Page 5 of Worth Loving You

He heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, licking his lips.

I pressed the back of my wrist to my forehead, silently cursing myself for acting like a fool. Composing myself, I added a couple drops of oil to my palm, warmed it up, and returned to the massage, darting fleeting glimpses at the tent every few seconds. How the hell was I supposed to massage there?

Several minutes ticked by where his muscles loosened, but mine tightened because eventually, I would have to stop avoiding the inevitable. Taking a deep breath, I just decided to go for it, get it done, and get him out.

Pressing my palms into his flesh, I kneaded firmly on his pelvis, just above the towel. My lids rounded, I was incapable of tearing my attention off it.

“Uhn,” he groaned…and it jerked.

I gasped and yanked my hands away. Flustered, I acted like I needed more oil. A small tremor rocked me, but I ignored it and massaged his left thigh.

Another throaty groan, his knee turning toward me, so his legs parted. Without meaning to, my fingers brushed lower than they were supposed to, and that goddamn towel twitched.

“Oh, yeah,” he rasped, sounding more erotic than innocent.

Pausing for only a split second, I continued with the task, easing my fingers away from the no-no area. At his foot, I switched to his right side, looking at the man as a whole.

He didn’t have a well-defined six pack, but there were muscles, indicating he worked out from time to time. His navel was shallow with a thin patch of light blond hair that trailed down the center of his lower abdomen beneath the towel, the rest of his chest smooth. There were dips from his pelvis bone to his hips and, unbeknownst to myself, I dragged my finger along the indention, exploring rather than massaging.

“Mm.”

His hand twitched, his knuckles brushing against my thigh.

Gulping, I blinked several times, trying to focus. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d seen hundreds of naked men, some better looking than him. Why was this one throwing me off my game?

Because of those goddamn sounds he kept making. He acted like I was making love to him with my hands. No one, male or female, had ever moaned and groaned like he did. If he would just shut the hell up, I would have been done with him long ago.

At the front of the table once more, I bent over, pushing my palms down his chest. On my way up, my thumbs spread out to touch his nipples.

He took a quick inhale, rolling his head to the side.

Bending over a second time to stretch across him, his stomach caved under my touch, his face turning into my breast.

“Mm, that feels good.”

My blood raced, my heart skipping. My clit was throbbing!

Trying not to tremble, I gradually made my way to his shoulders, straightening my spine. When I gazed down, his eyes were wide open, staring at me, his lips taut.

I cleared my throat, working the knots at his neck. Maneuvering his head so it was tipped backward, I circled my fingers at the base of his skull, my thumbs under his jaw.

“Oh, that’s good,” he wheezed, his hot breaths warming the crotch of my white pants.

My eyes rolled and I quivered so hard, I swayed, my palms spreading out over his collarbones. My mouth opening to a silent moan, my hips jerked of their own accord.

“You okay?” he whispered, his hand lifting to curl his fingers around my wrist.

My insides were rattling with panic. This was bad. This was so not professional. What the hell was going on?

My voice shaking, I breathed, “I’m fine,” and snatched out of his hold. Hurrying to the cubby wall, I grabbed a towel and wiped my hands dry, my stomach swirling like a tornado.

“Are we done?”

“Mm hm.”

The table creaked under his weight, another groan filling the air. I peeked over my shoulder to see him exaggeratingly roll his head around.

“Jesus Christ, I don’t know when I’ve felt this good. Thank you.”