Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
He stiffly pulled off his shirt and removed his belt. He hesitated at the button of his constricting jeans. “Is it cool if I keep my pants on?”
She smiled and executed a sexy little eye roll. “If that helps you, fine. But you’ll get more out of it if you’re naked.” She pulled back the crisp white sheet draped over the table and turned around to give him privacy. “Once you’re ready, get under the sheet and we’ll begin.”
He was so royally fucked.
He shoved down his jeans, and his erection angled toward her like a stiff German hunting pointer. Thankfully, the table had enough padding that he could make it work. He shoved his cock down and gently lowered to his stomach, unsure where to put his arms.
Pulling the sheet over his ass, he dropped his face in the hole. “Ready.”
“Good.” She adjusted the sheet. “Lift your feet. I’m going to put the bolster under them to make it a little more comfortable for you.”
The rolled towel helped distribute his weight more evenly. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe a little slower.
“I’ll start with some light effleurage to warm the tissue. Let me know if anything feels too intense.”
Effleurage? What the hell was effleurage? It sounded like something that should be illegal in at least three states.
He cleared his throat. “Got it.”
“Just a warning, I’ll need access to your lower back and glutes. Are there any areas you want me to avoid?”
He literally wanted her hands everywhere. “Nope.”
The first caress sent a shockwave of pleasure straight to his groin.
“You’re tense. Try to relax, Grey. I’ve got you.”
I’ve got you…
Why did those words hit like a punch to the chest? No one had ever said that to him before—not in a way that felt true. He’d spent his entire life being the one who took care of others, who solved problems and fixed things. The idea that someone could take care of him, that he could let go and trust someone else to hold him together, was both foreign and desperately needed.
Swallowing hard, he prayed to every deity that his enthusiasm remained hidden.
Think of hunting. Think of fishing. Think of her dad. No, wait—don’t think of her dad. Shit.
The massage started light, her palms gliding over his back in long, fluid strokes like silk against skin. She pressed down, slow and even, tracing along his spine, then out to his lats. Restraining a moan was difficult.
Did other people moan in these sorts of situations? Was this always so…sexual? He didn’t liked the idea of her doing this to other men.
“Your paraspinals are working overtime,” she murmured, breath teasing softly down his spine. “I can feel the tension along your erector spinae, especially the left side.”
Wait ’til she discovered the tension in the front side erector…
“I’ll start loosening up the surrounding fascia.” Wren discussing anatomy should not be this sexy. Every word out of her mouth unlocked a new kink.
As she kneaded into his lower back, her thumbs pressing into that deep tissue, a groan slipped out.
“Painful?”
He tried to say something but a strangled, “Mmf,” escaped. Between the pinched nerve and his crushed dick, he was dying.
“That’s your QL. It’s definitely angry. You’ve probably been lifting with your back instead of your legs. I’m going to hold sustained pressure for a minute and let the muscle release on its own.”
She used her forearm now, leaning into him with the weight of her whole body, her tits pressing like soft pillows along his bare skin.
He curled his hands around the edge of the table, digging his fingers into the padding, white-knuckled. She pressed into the ache and held—for a solid thirty seconds he couldn’t breathe—then the pressure gave way and a subtle release occurred. He exhaled, shocked by how quickly she had located and eased the pain.
“Good.” Her hands slid higher, thumbs working through the tight cords of muscle near his spine. She paused at the base of his neck.
“You’ve got some tension buildup here. I’m going to try some cross-fiber friction to loosen it up. You’ll feel it more sharply, but it’ll help break the cycle.”
Cross-fiber what?
She applied pressure in short, deliberate strokes against the grain of his muscles and he hissed in a breath. The sensation brought a good pain, the kind that made him want to flip over and kiss her senseless.
“Does that feel good?” she whispered, mouth close to his ear.
“Yes,” he rasped, his body a knot of tension, the kind that needed other care to cure.
“Good. Now, breathe with me.”
He matched her rhythm without thinking. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
The room heated. Everything smelled like soothing herbs and Wren. Her hands kept moving, firm and skilled. In some ways, she knew his body better than he did. The realization that she could read him so completely, that her hands could find and heal places he hadn’t even known were broken, left him feeling exposed in ways that had nothing to do with his nudity.