“I also noticed that there’s no lock on our door. Your mom is very nice, but she sort of seems like the type who might pop her head in to say breakfast is ready in the morning. We’re supposed to be a couple.”
Wes stayed quiet for so long I thought he might’ve fallen asleep. Eventually, I whispered again. “Wes? Are you still awake?”
“Yeah, I’m awake. I’m just sitting here thinking of the time she walked in at an inappropriate moment when I was a teenager and had Missy Callaway over. You would’ve thought she’d learned her lesson then, but a few months later she walked in on me while I was getting dressed.”
I kind of hated Missy Callaway at the moment. Nevertheless, I sat up and started moving pillows around. “Come on. I’m making a wall between us.”
It surprised me when Wes got up and walked around to the other side of the bed. He sat down and started to swing his feet up, but his body jerked, and he cursed under his breath. “Fuck.”
“What’s the matter? Are you okay?”
He winced, lowering himself slowly. “I threw out my back shooting hoops. I have a disc that pops in and out ever since I took a hit playing football in my senior year of high school.”
“Then why the heck did you try to sleep on the floor?”
He made pained sounds as he eased down into the mattress. “Because I didn’t want you to.”
He was in pain, yet he’d still insisted on being a gentleman. Stupid, yet it warmed me. “How do you get the disc to go back into place? Do you go to a chiropractor or something?”
“No, I tried that a few times, but it didn’t help. I usually go to this medical massage therapist. She’s able to relax all the muscles around it, and within a day or two, things go back into place.”
“I’m pretty good at giving massages…”
“That isdefinitelynot a good idea.”
I got defensive. “Why not?”
“Because there’s a line I can’t cross with you.”
“You’re being ridiculous. Do you worry about crossing a line with your massage therapist?”
“No, but…”
“But what?”
“She’s a professional.”
“I might not have a license, but what do you think I’m going to do? Try to give you a happy ending?”
After a moment, Wes blew out a deep breath. “Fine.”
The way he said it, you’d think I’d asked him to walk before a firing squad, not enjoy a back rub. I rolled my eyes and sat up. “Roll over.”
The groans he made as he flipped onto his stomach had me second-guessing my assurance that I wouldn’t try to give him a happy ending. They were low, guttural, and so damn sexy that I had to imagine they were a lot like the sounds he made during sex.
Fuck my life. What had I gotten myself into? I needed a minute to regroup. “I’m going to wash my hands and get some lotion out of my bag.”
When I came back, Wes’s face was buried in the pillow, arms loose at his sides. I pumped some cream into my palms and rubbed them together before setting my hands on his shoulders. His muscles tightened instantly.
“Relax,” I whispered.
“Trying.”
I kneaded slowly down his back, fingers pressing into the ridges of tense muscles. When I hit a spot close to his kidneys, his breath hitched.
“Here?”
“Yeah.”
