“The table is set, Chef Ezekiel,” Orion said with an outlandishly over-the-top bow. I laughed because he was trying to be funny, and he’d succeeded. If we maintained this level of detached teamwork, maybe we had a chance at success. I just needed him to stop being so . . . so everything.
I was so fucked.
After dinner, we settled in the living room to go over the map and files. I sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by the printouts and images I’d compiled. Orion took a nearbyarmchair, leaning forward with interest as I handed him the thick binder containing my research and plans.
“When did you have time to put all this together?” he asked, flipping through the pages.
I shifted, trying to get comfortable on the hardwood floor. “The past two days. Once Michael gave me the assignment, I wanted to be thorough.”
Orion looked up with an arched brow. “I’d say that’s an understatement.”
Bracing my hands on the floor, I groaned as I pushed myself upright. A dull ache radiated from my shoulders and lower back. I needed to not let Orion dump me on my ass or figure out how to fall without bruising my back. Probably best to concentrate on the latter because Orion was a dozen leagues ahead of me.
I stretched to work out the kinks, and Orion stood up and put his hands gently on my shoulders. The act took me by surprise. “What are you doing?”
“I can help work out the knots.” He kneaded my muscles for a second, before pulling his hands back like I was on fire. “Did I cross a line?”
“No, why would you think that?” I asked, before I thought about my answer.
“I should’ve asked before I touched you,” he said. He resumed work and his fingers dug into the tense muscles of my neck and shoulders. A shiver raced down my spine at the intimate contact as he kneaded with firm pressure. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop thoughts of his hands roaming further. I told myself not to go there, but it didn’t work.
“You’re incredibly tense,” Orion murmured, working his thumbs in small circles. “When was the last time you had a proper massage?”
Too long. Way, way too long. I bit back the words, my face flushing as my body betrayed me, arousal stirringembarrassingly in my khakis. Clearing my throat, I tried to keep my voice level. “Uh, it’s been a while, but you don’t have to do this.”
“Don’t be silly, you’re a mess of knots.” His hands slid lower, palms gliding over my shoulder blades. “I feel like this is partly my fault. Plus, I’m a trained massage therapist.”
Of all the things he could have said, that ranked up there with the most unlikely. “You are?”
“Go figure,” he said, continuing to work my muscles into a glob of goo. “I needed something to do with my free time.”
He said it so quickly, I think he was embarrassed by the idea. Maybe as embarrassed as I was going to be if he noticed what his ministrations did to my body.
“Honestly, a massage will relax your muscles and help them heal quicker.”
The thought brought a new rush of blood southward. As amazing as his hands felt, there was no way I could hide my arousal if he went further.
“I, uh, I should probably pass,” I said quickly. “I might . . . embarrass myself if you keep going like that.”
Orion’s movements stilled, and for a horrible moment, I feared I’d said too much. But rather than pulling away, he surprised me by giving my shoulders a gentle squeeze.
“Then lie down on your stomach,” he said matter-of-factly. “That way your virtue will remain intact, and I can still do my job of making sure you recover properly from training.”
I should’ve protested. Angels had healing powers that would fix me up before I woke up. The more primal part of my brain, however, leapt at the chance to have those talented hands on me again. Orion seemed to read my hesitation.
“Don’t make me insist,” he added, a hint of a smile in his voice. “You need this. There’s a table in the basement. Get undressed, wrap a towel around your waist, and lie face down onthe padding. Once you’re ready, call me. I promise not to perv on you.”
The problem was Itotallywanted him to perv on me. Now that he’d put it that way, I couldn’t get the image of him taking me however he wanted out of my head. Fuck. Shit. Damn.
“Insist?”
“I’m supposed to protect you. If you’re too sore to fight, I’ll have failed.”
It was totally logical, except he didn’t know what he did to me. I nodded because if I tried to speak, words wouldn’t come out.
The black massage table was in the corner. A stack of towels rested on a shelf to the left. I slowly stripped off my clothes and wrapped the oversized white cotton fabric around my waist.
Slowly, my hands trembling, I lowered myself onto the table and got settled. I’d gotten massages before, and they didn’t arouse me even when the masseuse was drop-dead gorgeous. I reminded myself this was a clinical massage not meant to offer happy endings or even erotic touches. Just relax and repair.
