Suddenly, I’m tempted to forget about my takeout.
James pulls away before I can get any more ideas. “Eat,” he orders again. My thighs squeeze together, heat growing in my belly. Apparently, his sternness does it for me.
I take a seat at the counter and shove a fork full of lo mein into my mouth. My body rejoices at the salty, carby deliciousness. All thoughts of purple scheduled sex get pushed to the back of my mind in favor of dinner.
Half of my food has vanished by the time James sits next to me, his plate piled just as high as mine.
“You really need that many calories to fuel twelve hours of sitting at a desk?” I laugh.
He shoots me a look that saysbe serious.“You know I don't look like this from sitting at a desk all day.”
My eyes flicker down to his torso, even though his hard muscles are hidden by his tailored suit. I quickly take a bite of fried rice before I can say anything inappropriate. James and I are friends.That’s what we agreed on—hell, it’s what I asked him for. Sure, I gave him the green flag to ask me if he wanted sex. I just never counted on askinghimto return the favor.
I really shouldn’t. We’ve just reached a comfortable equilibrium living together, and asking for unscheduled sex is just going to muddy the waters. Better to just bring out my vibrator once I go to bed if I’m still feeling the urge.
“You're staring at me,” James says without looking up from his lo mein.
“I'm not staring. I'm observing.”
“There's a difference?”
“Staring implies I have no purpose. Observing implies I'm gathering data.”
He finally looks up, one eyebrow raised. “Data about what?”
“You.” I take a sip of my water. “I'm trying to figure out what you look like when you're relaxed.”
“I look like this.”
“You look constipated.”
“That's my relaxed face.”
“James.” I set down my fork. “That's genuinely concerning.”
“My face has limited range. And yet here you are, studying my face over takeout.”
I flush slightly. “Observing. Not studying.”
“Ah. My mistake.” He returns to his food, but I catch the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.
When I reach for my glass of water, my shoulder twinges uncomfortably. Now that I’m fed, my body wants to remind meof all the other ways I’ve been mistreating it. I rub the knotted muscle with my hand.
“Something wrong?” James asks, frowning.
“My shoulder’s just a little sore. My posture’s been pretty bad in the studio.”
I wonder for a moment if he's going to lecture me about standing up straight, like he lectured me about eating. Instead, he puts down his fork and gets up from his stool. He shifts to stand behind me, and my breath catches. I’m all too aware of his large body behind me.
His hands come to my shoulders. Each of his palms is so wide, they practically span my entire back. His fingers gently massage the top of my shoulders while his thumbs dig into the knots lower down on my back. It’s just the right amount of pressure, and my tight back muscles sing with relief.
“How’s the pressure?” he asks, and I can practically feel the vibration of his voice through my body.
“Perfect,” I moan. “Oh my god, it’s just what I needed. Where did you learn how to do this?”
Please don’t say an ex-girlfriend.
Not that I have the right to be jealous or anything.
