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“Is it okay if I take my shirt off?”
I hear the hitch in his breath. “Y-yes, probably easier like that.”
“Probably.”
I strip out of it, discarding it on the floor. Oliver’s gaze stays on mine for a second before it dips to my lips, my neck . . . my chest. Heat sweeps over me and pools between my legs at his intensity. Why does this feel dangerously like foreplay?
In nothing but my bra and leggings, I lie down on my stomach, my arms forming a pillow for my head.
The bed shifts next to me, and Oliver settles at my side.
“Lavender or peppermint?” His voice sounds like he hasn’t used it in hours.
I smile into my arms. “Look at you, all prepared. Is this your move? You bring the ladies up here for massages?”
I keep it light and playful, but jealousy hits me like a ton of bricks, and I hate it. I hate that the possibility affects me so much when I have no right to feel this way whatsoever.
Oliver laughs, although it sounds more like a seagull choking on a piece of bread. “No, nothing like that. I like to use it in my bath sometimes. Helps me relax.”
“Oh. That actually sounds nice. Which one is best for back pain?”
He studies the label. “I think the peppermint. It has anti-inflammatory properties.”
He twists the bottle open and dabs a few drops on his hands before I hear the faint sound of friction. Then his hands are on me, warm and solid, pressing on my lower back with a gentleness that makes me bite back a moan.
“Is this okay?” he asks, barely above a whisper.
“Mm-hmm.”
His hands knead my skin expertly, and this time, I can’t help but whimper. He halts a few inches below my bra. “Can I?”
I nod, not trusting any sound coming out of my mouth at this point.
He unclasps my bra, letting the straps fall to the sides, and trails his fingers along my spine. I shiver. “So beautiful,” he breathes, triggering another wave of goose bumps. His hands flatten between my shoulder blades, and he starts to loosen up my shoulders, alternating between working on a specific spot and long sweeps down my back. If he continues like this, I’m going to purr, and it’s going to be embarrassing.
For a split second, words that I once wrote in a letter to him flash through my mind. Things that I wished he’d done to me, that I imagined him doing. It would be so easy to turn around and bring his lips to mine, to coax him against my bare chest and dare him to move away. I want to do that and so much more. I want him all to myself. For hours. Days. Just the two of us with nothing in between.
“You’re so tense,” Oliver says under his breath. He kneads a bit harder at the spot between my shoulder and my neck. “How can you function like this?”
“I think it’s my default mode,” I chuckle. “Never known anything else.”
His fingers slide down each side of my spine until they reach the small of my back. “What are you gonna do now, then?”
He spreads his hand wide and presses from the inside out, grazing the waistband of my leggings.
“I don’t know, really. I think I need to rest.” I snort. The word tastes foreign on my tongue. “I’ve been exhausted for a long time and could use a vacation.” Oliver makes small circles with his thumbs on my left side. “Oh god, that feels good.”
He laughs, repeating the gesture. “You know,” he starts casually, “Pine Falls can get pretty quiet during the off-season. If you want to unwind here. For your vacation, that is,” he adds quickly.
I contemplate his words, the offer behind it, his desire underneath it.
It would be so easy to accept and spend weeks here, even months. Find a part-time job at the café or at the bookstore Oliver visited before we came here. It wouldn’t be so bad.
And I’d be here. With him.
I wouldn’t want to presume anything, but I could see him letting me stay in the guest bedroom. And it would be nice having a friend to come home to and talk to.
I mentally roll my eyes at my own words. A friend. Listen to yourself, Charlee. I can’t even be honest with myself.
