I ignored him, and shifted his weight onto the mattress. Despite his complaints, he went willingly, falling onto his stomach, his plaid flannel clashing with my floral duvet. Even so, I liked the way he looked there, his long limbs eating up the space, his head sinking into my pillow.
I pulled off his shoes and took them to the front door before grabbing my heating pad and returning to the bedroom.
He hadn’t moved.
Plugging the heating pad in, I sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle him. “Can I lift up your shirt?”
He nodded into the pillow, docile in a way I hated. He was usually so spirited and argumentative. This compliant version of Brody made me want to fix him up just so we could get back to butting heads. I put my hands on the bottom hem of his flannel and pulled it up to his shoulder blades, leaving him in a thin white T-shirt. Technically, I could have left it in place, but I wanted to make sure the heating pad did its job. And I really wanted to see more of him.
I took the soft cotton in my hands, my breath catching as I slowly lifted it. Inch after inch of his light-brown skin was revealed, and I swallowed hard. Ignoring my desire to press my lips to the exposed flesh, I put the heating pad on him instead.
His breath caught.
“Is that too hot?”
“No. It’s heaven.” His voice was low and gravelly, and my pulse beat hard between my thighs.
Without thinking too hard about what I was doing, I brought my hands to his sides and gripped him lightly, letting my thumbs rest against his lower back under the heating pad.
“What are you—”
He cut himself off with a groan as I circled my thumbs over the stiff muscles. The room was quiet except for the sound of our breathing. His skin was smooth and soft under my hands, stretched over a wall of rigid muscle. The smell of him filled the room. He always smelled a little like a pine forest, with that same hint of cologne I’d noticed earlier. Every time he exhaled, it blew a stray strand of hair from his face; his braid having started to unravel in the chaos. His eyes were closed, and I stared unabashedly at the side of his face.
What was I doing?
I was supposed to be furthering my career, demonstrating my research by creating this presentation. This man was making more work for me by questioning my conclusions. Yet as he lay there in my bed, melting under my hands, all I wanted to do was lean over and kiss him.
Chapter Five
Brody
Rachel’s thumbs dug lightly into the tense muscles of my lower back, and I let out a groan.
I didn’t want or need anyone’s help…but damn, this heating pad felt amazing. I buried my face in her pillow, hoping to muffle the sounds I didn’t seem to be able to hold in.
It didn’t help; her pillows smelled like her. Natural and floral, and clean.
I was way too comfortable, except for where my cock was starting to stiffen under my zipper. That was…inconvenient—not just physically, but because of what it revealed about how I felt about Rachel after only a few days.
This wasn’t me.
I wasn’t the guy who wanted to sleep with just anyone. It had to be someone I actually cared about. So the fact that my body was reacting right now should have been setting off more alarm bells than it was.
There was a reason I was single in my forties. I was a loner. A grumpy, set in my ways, stubborn asshole, according to more than one ex.
Was she just a caring person, taking care of me? Or was she feeling some inconvenient feelings too?
I moved my head so I could look up at her. She was focusing on my lower back where she was working the muscles, hair escaping from her ponytail and falling into her eyes.
She really was beautiful.
Her deep blue eyes flicked to my face, and she caught me looking. A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “What?” she asked softly.
I shook my head against the pillow. “You’re just…thanks for helping me.”
“You look like you could fall asleep.”
“I could,” I told her, honestly. The implications of falling asleep in her bed, even if I never touched her, made my scarred heart want to rebel. “I should go. I’m feeling a lot better.” I started to push myself up, but she stilled me with a hand on my shoulder.
