Page 64 of Worth Loving You

“What kind of music do you listen to?”

Taken aback, the bottle hovering near my mouth, I stared out the corner of my eye. No one had ever asked me something like that before. I don’t think I liked it too much.

Jutting my chin, I changed the subject by asking, “What were you doing to Dave a while ago?”

Her brows knitted before smoothing, her bottom lip puckering. “What do you mean?”

Circling my wrist, I said, “The thing, with the hand. What was it?”

“Oh, just stimulating some pressure points to ease some of the tension. Here, gimme.”

My brow creased and I stilled. “Excuse me?”

She turned her chair to face me better and crossed her ankles, tucking them beneath. The music got louder, so her voice did, as well. Wiggling her fingers, she shouted, “Come on, don’t be a baby. Give me your hand.”

Reluctantly, I held it out. She turned it palm up, her fingers curling underneath, her thumbs pressing into the center. Making tiny circles, she slowly pulled them outward until they covered the whole surface.

To my surprise, a groan shook my chest, a sense of relief and pleasure loosening my muscles.

Her lips moving to the lyrics, her head bobbing side to side, she deftly worked along each finger to the tips and then smiled. My pulse quickening, I stared at my hand, the nerves tingling. Without saying a word, I hastily shoved my other forward. She giggled, picked it up, and repeated the process.

Midway through, she got distracted when Tim returned to the table, bent over, and talked in her ear. The two of them conversing, I stared in awe as she massaged my hand and fingers, somewhat forgetting what she was doing. More absently now, her fingers were brushing or stroking, a nail grazing here or there.

Every hair on my body stood on end, my sight gradually tracing up her arm to her profile. Her cheek puffed out with a smile, her nose wrinkled again at something he said. I had no idea what they were talking about, but I hoped they didn’t stop, for if they did, so would her touches.

Unfortunately, all too soon, he was looking at me and pointing to the bottle. “Need another?” he shouted to be heard.

A constriction in my throat, I continued to eye her and stiffly shook my head. Smiling brightly, she gently patted my palm and set my hand on the table, fixing her chair so she was sitting at the table properly.

My sight lowered to the palms, my fingers curling and uncurling. I’d never had someone touch me like that, tenderly, almost affectionately, without it being sexual. It was…invigorating.

Her profile to me, she was swaying to the beat, throwing an arm up to hoot when the song ended. Whistling and clapping, she shot me a glance, but quickly redirected her focus to the stage.

“And this one goes out to our special little Chazzy,” the chick said into the microphone.

Chastity again hollered, clapping her hands over her head. “Yeah, baby!”

The band began playing American Woman which had her bopping around her chair, singing along.

A small chuckle pushed through my nose, my legs stretching wide under the table. Ogling her without blinking, I shook my head. No, I most certainly did not hate Chastity. In fact, I may even like her. She wasn’t so bad, after all.

Chapter 24

Chastity Monroe

The next few months went by in a blur, filled with lavish trips around the world, fancy dinners with people of high stature, extravagant gifts, lots of amazing sex, and just having the time of my life.

Wyatt’s cryptic warnings soon faded and were buried in the back of my mind, my schedule far too busy to worry about such nonsense from someone who hated me and was trying to sabotage my happiness.

Whenever Milo was darting around the globe without me, however, I learned pretty quickly just how bored I could get without his constant attention and doting. To fill my time and make me feel like I had purpose, I decided to take his advice when we first met and work on opening my own massage parlor.

Wanderlust Masseuse would officially be in business in less than a month. With Milo’s help, I had found the perfect location that was a ten minute subway ride away. While the renovations were going on, I was marketing like crazy…again, with the help of Milo and his connections.

Wyatt had tried to bring me down, warning that he would never allow me to massage other men, and I was just fooling myself, but, once again, his assumptions were disproved. Not only was my man encouraging, he had suggested I give a few of his business partners a freebie to help spread the word on how fantastic I was – his words, not mine.

He was simply amazing. Gorgeous, rich, strong, supportive, and so goddamn proud that I was his girlfriend.

The harder he loved me, the more confident I grew. No longer bowing my chin to avoid eye contact, I walked with a sense of self-worth I’d never had before. My shoulders back, spine straight, I knew I was cherished, worshipped, and loved. I knew I was a good, worthy person.