My heart is pounding in my chest. “You’re exhausted. You’ve been working for hours.”
Charli shrugs and starts making up the table. “It’s fine, Quinn. Really. I don’t mind. You’ve got an issue with your back, and this will help.”
I have an issue, all right, but it’s not my back that’s stiff…
I should turn around and leave. Right now.
Grandma, grandma, grandma…
“Okay, you usually get a deep tissue massage, right?” she asks, grabbing her drink and turning to face me. “Do you still want that today?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, any sensitive or no-touch areas you want me to avoid?”
Don’t say dick. Don’t say dick.
“Nope, I’m good,” I tell her.
“All right. Go ahead and strip down to whatever level you feel comfortable. You’ll be beneath a sheet at all times.”
I nod, my throat dry and my dirty brain still stuck on the word strip.
“I’ll give you a few minutes and be right back.” She grabs her drink and exits the room, leaving me alone with the soft music and my hard-on.
“Fuck,” I mutter, running my hand down my face and taking a few calming breaths. This is a bad idea.
But instead of heading straight for the exit, I remove my flannel shirt and hang it on the back of the chair. It’s quickly followed by my T-shirt before I bend down and unlace my work boots. It takes me a minute to get them off and set them beneath the chair, and eventually, I’m able to remove my belt and jeans. I quickly fold the denim and my T-shirt before turning my attention to the table.
Just as I take a step forward, there’s a knock on the door and it’s pushed open. I don’t have time to say a word. All I can do is stand here in my boxer briefs and watch as a whole movie scene of emotions play across Charli’s face. Shock, embarrassment, and even intrigue. I don’t miss the way her eyes drop to my chest and soak in the sight before skating their way down my abdomen and landing firmly on my groin.
And that pesky fucker? Oh, he notices instantly and starts to get hard all over again.
“I’m so sorry,” she blurts out without turning around or shielding her eyes. “I thought you’d be ready. For me. On the bed.” Her eyes fly up to meet mine. “On the table!”
I can’t help but grin. “Almost ready,” I tell her, holding her gaze. “Let me get on the…bed.”
All of a sudden, I see something I don’t think I’ve ever seen before in my entire life. Charli Miller blushes. It’s a bright redhue that makes her blond hair shine brighter and her blue eyes sparkle like sapphires.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
And just as I’d expect her to, she doesn’t shy away from the sight of me in my underwear. Why would she? She’s seen me in swim trunks plenty of times over the years, and while this isn’t exactly the same, it’s not too far off either.
“Can I get on the table, or do you need a few more minutes to gawk?”
That lights the fire I’ve been expecting. Placing her hands on her hips, she narrows her eyes and says, “I’m not gawking. I just haven’t seen your new ink yet. I was checking it out.”
I almost laugh out loud. My newest piece of ink is on my pec, not my crotch, but since I’m pretty damn proud of the tattoo, I forgo any comment I was going to say and turn my attention to the black ink on my skin. “He did a great job, didn’t he?”
She steps closer, her finger reaching out and gliding along the skin. She doesn’t ask to touch me, not that I’d stop her anyway, but having her fingertip slide against my chest is not good. My body ignites, heat flooding my veins at an alarming rate. “It’s gorgeous,” she says, dragging her fingers across my flesh. “Did Dwayne do this one too?”
My head feels a bit lightheaded and it’s hard to draw a complete breath into my lungs. “He did,” I reply a little hoarse, as I clear my throat. “We did two sessions.”
“It’s stunning,” she says, her words heavily laced with awe.
“Thanks.”
She looks up, meeting my gaze. “What does it mean?”
