Mia clears her throat before asking, “Feeling any better?”
I look back at her. “A lot. Thank you, Miss Thorne.”
“Oh, please. I just rubbed your bare back with oil. That should earn me first-name privileges.” She turns my shoulders her way. “Can I book the masseuse now?”
“No.” This is ridiculous. We’re having this conversation with my back to her.
“But you’re feeling better. And you know how beneficial they are.”
I roll my shirt into a ball, lay it on top of my boner and stand up, facing her. “You really think massages are a fundamental part of your plan?”
“Yes.” She stands too.
“And you believe it’s imperative to my physicalandmental health that I have them twice a week?”
“I do. And you kno?—”
“Fine, then you’ll give them.”
“Excuse me?”
“I loathe the idea of a stranger touching me, and you did a stellar job tonight.” I smile and stretch my neck and shoulders, without moving my hands away from my dick. “We make a good team, Mia. I can teach you everything you want to learn.” My cock gets painfully hard at the innuendos meant with that. And at the way she can’t stop staring at my torso. “I’ll take your silence as agreement.”
“No. I mean, I don’t know. Can you put your shirt on?”
“Why?”
Her jaw moves but words fail her on her first try. “It-it helps me think.”
Sense fails her on her second.
“My shirt helps you think?” There’s nothing more entertaining—or cuter—than seeing Mia all flustered.
“Yes. What? No. Dr. Preston, you’re not helping.”
“Neither are you.” I lick my lips, desperate for a taste of hers. “Go to bed, Mia.”
Her pinballing eyes land on my groin, and she gets the answer as to why I can’t put my shirt on. She looks up at me, then down again, eyes doubling in size and acknowledgment.
My mouth starts running. “Please don’t see this as a sign of disrespect. If anything, take it as a compliment.” What the actual fuck am I saying? “This hasn’t happened in a very, very long time.”
“But you were married.”
“And taking blue pills for far too many years.” My arms fall at my side. Not sure if it’s shame or defeat.
“Dr. Preston,” Mia whispers as she steps closer, oil slick between her fingertips. “We don’t need to talk about it.” She’s so close the pull between us tightens. “I mean… it’s biological, right? You’re reacting to someone’s touch. It’s not personal or anything.”
Not personal? Has she forgotten how my dick greetedher on her first day here when I found her towel-less in my hallway?
I lean in and the pull intensifies. Sparking, crackling. We’re closer, so close, but I don’t touch her. My breath does, though.
“That’s not true at all. Make no mistake, Mia. My body is reacting toyourtouch. This is how my body answers toyou, andyou only.”
Without ceremony, I step back and adjust myself inside my pants while Mia watches openly, mouth agape.
“Sweet dreams, Mia. I think I’ll sleep better tonight with your scent for company.” I watch the rise and fall of her full breasts, and congratulate myself on not lingering there.
I’m on the stairs, heading up, when I turn just enough to check she’s still there. I don’t dare face her as I add, after a deep breath, “When I close my eyes, it’ll feel like you’re in bed with me.”
