I begin to massage, digging thumbs and fingers into rigid muscles, searching out knots.
“Ohhhh.” Her head drops forward.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No. I mean, yes. But it feels good.”
I smile and keep going. I’ve learned a few techniques after all the massages I’ve had from team therapists.
And yes, I do think about sliding my hands down her front to find those perfect, dainty tits. I’m a man. I’m attracted to her. But I do have some self-control, although I have to admit that with her it’s stretched pretty thin.
When my hands are in spasms from overuse, I stop, resting my palms on her shoulders. “How was that?”
“That was amazing.”
“Good. Do you want to go to bed?” I’ve never asked that question in such an innocent way.
She looks at me over her shoulder in a surprisingly flirty way. “Really?”
Jesus. “I’m not hitting on you.”
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Then she says, “What if I wanted you to?”
My heart jolts. My gut twists. I stare at the back of her head. “That’s not why I’m here, Nikki,” I say in a low tone.
Jesus. I’m turning her down. What. The. Fuck.
She sighs. “I know.” Then she pushes up onto her feet. “Yeah, I’m tired. I could use a good night’s sleep. I haven’t slept a lot. Jet lag, I think.”
I’m sure jet lag doesn’t help. I stand, too.
She looks around, then spies my jacket on the back of a chair where I tossed it earlier. She moves to it and picks it up. “Thank you. I appreciate you coming.”
“I’m not leaving.” I take the jacket from her and drop it on the chair again. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. And I mean just you. But I’m going to stay tonight.”
She turns her face up to mine, her eyes big, the usual sparkle missing from their deep golden depths. “You don’t need to do that.”
“It’s not up for discussion.” I nudge her to the hall and then into her bedroom.
She heads straight to the bed. I pull away the blanket that I covered her with earlier as she climbs beneath the duvet.
Her bedroom has a different feel than the rest of the apartment, which is all creamy and light. In here, the walls are a deep mossy green, with bamboo shades covering the window. It feels moody and private. And seductive, if I’m being honest.
She settles into her bed on her side, knees pulled up. Christ. She looks small and fragile. I move closer to stroke hair off her face. “Do you need anything else?”
“No.” Her eyes droop closed. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep though.”
I don’t say anything, because she’s clearly drained. I drag my hand gently through her damp hair, then stroke it. In moments, her breathing has slowed and she’s asleep. Good.
I straighten and look around. The small pottery lamp on the bedside table illuminates the room and I check out the green velvet headboard, wood and wicker furniture, and framed botanical prints on the walls. I click off the lamp and head back to the chair I was sitting in earlier, an overstuffed armchair upholstered in a wild mix of green, cream, pink, and gold.
I watch Nikki sleep, attuned to every soft sound she makes. I’m grateful as hell that she’s here, alive, in one piece. But I’m also disturbed by her fragility and her obvious panic attack. The only good thing is that she doesn’t have the stamina to kick me out.
10
NIKKI
I wake up feeling warm. Very warm.
