She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth as if she debated where she’d go from the olive branch offering. “I do feel safer with you being here. Now, go take a hot shower to loosen your muscles and I’ll gather what I’ll need for the massage. Meet me in my bedroom in thirty, after you shower and use the computer, it’s in the office down the hall, wearing only a towel. Okay?” Seeing his devious smile, she shook her head. “For a massage only. Don’t worry. I saw it last night, so I won’t be surprised.” She lowered her gaze to his waist and smiled.
The grin that spread his lips could have made the coldest heart burn alive. She didn’t like that she wasn’t immune to his charisma. He certainly could whip out the charm when he needed. She reminded herself at least a hundred times that he wasn’t her type as she set up her bedroom as she would have a massage studio. Clean sheets. Warm blanket. Lit candles. She didn’t have the scented oils she would usually use, but she did find Vanessa’s stash of luxurious creams in the master bathroom.
Once the last candle was lit, she stood back and admired her makeshift studio. Although being a massage therapist wasn’t her destined lifelong career, she did enjoy helping people feel better. The looming thought of having her hands on Cox wasn’t entirely for his benefit only. No lying, touching him didn’t repulse her. There was a sliver of possibility that he was right. She was a bit curious. She’d never known a man quite like him, an alpha male who didn’t care if he offended her. Men in the past couldn’t seem to handle her. Or dated her to get to Uncle Brent because they wanted to jet-set up the political ladder faster. That had happened more than once and made her a bit jaded where men were concerned.
Why had he come with her to the cabin? There couldn’t possibly be a quid pro quo between her uncle and Cox—or was she wrong? What could he gain? She’d remembered that he said he wasn’t getting any money and usually that was the incentive for getting someone to do something.
Hazel needed to categorize the massage as simply a ‘thank you’. Obviously his leg caused him a great deal of pain, but he didn’t complain, or slow down. He hadn’t once during the three mile hike in the snow up the mountain led her to believe he couldn’t make it. He’d even offered his coat and gloves. A part of her, one she didn’t visit often, pinged. Cox came off as rough and warrior-like, but he was full of care and compassion. He’d been through something and he’d found a way to recover—at least as much as he could.
Checking the clock, he would be there soon. Why did she suddenly feel a racing of her heart and a fuzzy feeling in her chest like this was a date? If this was a date she wouldn’t have changed into a T-shirt and pajama shorts so she could move easily, although she had checked herself in the full length mirror a handful of times.
In truth, she’d never considered herself a beautiful woman, at least not in the classical definition, but she did find that the older she got the more she appreciated her looks. Her hair was naturally red and curly and what had been her bane of existence as a child was now her distinct feature. Her freckles were acceptable beauty marks. Her nose that was a little too big added to the facets of her heart shaped face, as well as the slight dimple in her chin that made itself present when she smiled. Many of her friends had struggled with weight, trying to fit into a mold of their counterparts, Hazel had given up on what the scales read and instead focused on how she felt inside and out. Taking on a regimen of running, usually on most mornings, she liked feeling refreshed and loved the figure she saw in the mirror. No doubt, if she stared hard enough, she could make a long list of her flaws, but she’d learned not to care.
The knock came and she jumped slightly.
One last glance at her reflection, she made her way to the door and opened it with a smile, leaning easily against the frame. “Welcome to my massage studio where relaxation is the goal.” She winked and swept a welcoming hand through the air.
He grinned, and just as she requested, he came wearing only a towel. His hair was damp and droplets of water splashed onto his broad shoulders. But what really got her, he’d shaven off his whiskers, exposing a smooth, square jaw. He looked younger, but even shaving didn’t soften the fighter-like masculine lines of his rugged features. She liked that about him—truly was getting used to the scowl that she realized was spurred more from his thoughts than anger.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
He’d laugh if he knew how nervous she’d been, but now that he was here, she felt calm. Excited. “Yes. Did you find the computer?”
“No. I needed a password. So I used the phone instead.”
“Is that safe? You know, to send confidential information and all.”
“We use code.” Once he stepped inside, she watched him examine the bedroom. “Wow. Can’t say I’ve been to a massage studio much, but this is tranquil. You even have music playing.”
“Music is important in relaxation. Come and lay down on the bed.” Although the words were entirely innocent, there was nothing harmless about the spiraling of temptation escalating through her body. Waves of desire. One. After. Another pounded through her.
He gripped his towel to keep it in places as he stretched out on the bed. His arms and legs were covered in dark, crisp hair yet his back was silky smooth. “It’s important for you to be completely loose. I’ll start on your shoulders and move my way down.” The slight catch in her voice warned her that she needed to monitor her boundaries. Somehow, she’d have to ignore the see-sawing emotion in the pit of her stomach. “If you’re entire body is at ease, the muscles in your injured leg won’t hurt as badly.”
Adjusting his arms beside his body, the movement caused his muscles to flex under his smooth skin.
Once he was into position, she poured a few drops of cream into her palm then rubbed her hands together to warm them. The moment she laid her hands on his shoulders he jerked. “You’re certainly not relaxed now.”
A force of unexpected desire rippled through her hands, crawling into her limbs, sending a shockwave straight into the center of her chest. It had been a while since she’d touched a man, even though this was completely harmless, but her resistance was fading. A heatwave carrying a large dose of yearning cautioned her that the abyss was drawing her in.
Like a machine, she focused on pressing her fingertips into his firm muscles, making sure to roll over the stress points, but her mind kept wandering. A moan drifted from him and his eyes were closed. His muscles loosened under her touch. There was an instant gratification in knowing that she had enough power to make him feel good. Her stomach tightened at the thrill.
After massaging his shoulders and inhaling his clean, manly scent, she slid her hands along his spine, pressing her thumbs into the tight muscles and smiling when another groan drifted from him, this time vibrating her inner thighs. “It’s working. I feel your body letting go of the stress,” she said softly. Could he sense her turmoil?
“You were right. You do have magical hands, but I’m sure you’ve been told that a time or two already, outside of the studio.” His words were muffled against the sheet.
She couldn’t answer. Her tongue had become a blob of useless muscle. No client had ever affected her this way, as if she’d run a marathon, twice. Her knees weakened and she leaned against the side of the bed for support, but that was a mistake. She squished his hand that rested on the edge of the bed with her hip. “Excuse me,” she blustered.
“My bad.”
He didn’t bother removing his hand and his fingers wiggled, only inches away from that sensitive spot that craved attention. The temperature rose and sweat beaded between her breasts as misbehaving curls fell from her topknot. The strands bounced along her cheeks and she blew them away. It was important to stay fixated on his muscles and not the heat building in the center of her thighs.
She skimmed her now shivering fingers along the outline of his large tattoo that spanned from shoulder to shoulder like art on a canvas. She hadn’t dated many men with tattoos, but she liked Cox’s, liked the meaning behind the tr
ident.
Using the tips of her fingers, she glided lower until she came to the damp towel. He had nice lean hips and although she didn’t touch his bottom, she could see how the cotton spread across his firm ass. Gulping down a dose of desire, she skipped the buns and moved on.
At the backs of his strong thighs, she worked the tense muscles while the crisp hairs tickled her palms. “Does that feel good?” she asked.
“I’m like a bear snug in a rug,” he answered in a sleepy tone.
She smiled. When she rubbed the back of his injured thigh he jerked. “Try to stay relaxed.” She carefully caressed the tight ligaments, not wanting to cause him any pain but only take the tension away. “Did you spend a lot of time in physical therapy?”
“Yeah. A long time.”
“Now turn over,” she requested.
He shifted on the bed and the springs squealed under him. A bit disappointed that he held the towel in place instead of tossing it aside was a wake up call that she needed to get back on track. Yet, she couldn’t control her heart that kicked up in speed, or the tell-tale warmth spreading through her limbs. This would be the ultimate challenge. To massage his chest, arms and hands and keep sexual attraction at bay. She could do this though. She was an adult. A strong woman. One who hadn’t had sex in such a long time that she’d forgotten the mechanics.
Once his eyelids were closed again, she rolled her eyes, inwardly groaning at her childish behavior. What had come over her? A six foot four, daunting, two-hundred-pound hunk of a lawman had come over her, that’s what. Who could blame her? Large hands promised a large libido.
To wash away her unbelievable thoughts, she started to hum to the soft tune playing from the speaker.
Then his eyes were open and he was staring at her.
“Am I bothering you?”
“No. I like to hear you sing.”
Had she been singing? Had she been so lost in his masculinity that she’d broken into song?
For the sake of her nerves, she went straight for his wounded leg, taken back by the length and width of the healed scar that ran from thigh to two inches below the knee. The wound must have been ghastly, and her emotions flared in response. It was quite odd that she felt the desire to protect him, especially when he was a rough and tough soldier-turned-lawman who spent his days putting criminals behind bars. He could easily break her in half with his bare hands, and yet she felt nothing but security and kindness in his presence.
His muscles tightened. Glancing at him through her lashes, she asked, “Is the area that sensitive?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
Chapter 14
He knew this would be a mistake the second he laid down on the bed—or rather the moment she suggested she give him a massage.
Instead of running though, Cox had stayed and was enjoying himself. Much like the road they’d driven to get here, he teetered between a ravine and a rock wall. He had nowhere to go but stay straight.
Having her this close, inhaling her unique scent combined with the lotion made him crazy with a need so overpowering it lodged in the center of his bones. He was fully aware that her hip rested against his fingers. Each time she moved he felt his body switch into savage mode.
This was damn near torment.
When she’d asked him to roll over, he did, but his first thought had been on those parts of him that had been misbehaving the second he saw her naked in the hallway. How would he control his body? Would she see that he was unraveling? He’d guess he wouldn’t be the first man that made a fool of himself in front of her, but he also had no desire to breach that boundary—unless she initiated the first move.
What the hell was he thinking?
He didn’t like messy.
Allowing things to blur the lines between personal and professional would be a hot mess quicker than a snowstorm in the mountains. He was here to help Cris, not fall into the arms of a beautiful, perplexing woman that triggered every button in his body. No matter how good he knew she’d feel, or how much he wanted her, the fact was she could be the death of him.
He’d sent over the information to his partner for help in the mysterious death at the campaign office. Hopefully soon there’d be some answers, and with Asa on the job Cox didn’t have to worry.
And then what?
Would they be free to investigate the attraction growing between them?
Hell no.
They were from two different worlds and allowing them to collide would result in an explosion. They’d kill each other. They could rarely have a conversation without their tempers flaring. They tested the line between hate and…shit!
Oh hell no!
Love was out of the question.
Her hands settled on his knee and he jerked and inwardly cringed. Relax, bro! He was wound up tighter than a death row inmate taking that last walk. This was what she did to him and he needed to think with his head and not his balls.
Several curls caressed her flushed cheeks and her tongue came out to roll across her lower lip as if she focused all her attention on the task of rubbing his body.
Damn!
This wasn’t normal. He shouldn’t be having all these atypical emotions.
The T-shirt she wore clung to her firm breasts. The outline of her nipples was evident under the white cotton. He clenched his teeth and his jaw cracked. So what if she wasn’t wearing a bra? What was the big deal? He’d seen breasts before—not Hazel’s breasts and that made it a fucking huge deal. He liked breasts. Hell, he loved breasts. Big or small, he didn’t complain.
She had nice ones.
He was acting like a teenager. He needed to get a grip and stay focused.
Her fingers worked the tight muscle of his leg and he sunk into the mattress. Her fingers were magical. More than magical. Amazing. He’d had massages before but not like this. Not that felt this good.
Did it have something to do with the woman performing the act?
Yes, it did.
He closed his eyes, really getting into things, but opened them when he heard her sneeze. “You okay?”
“Yes.” She smiled—a beautiful smile that lit her eyes.
He wanted to ask if her hair was naturally red, but he wasn’t rude enough to go that direction. Her hands were now higher on his thigh, kneading and making him weak. She pressed into the muscle and the constant ache he’d felt in his knee seemed to disappear. “Wow. That worked.”
“I’m putting pressure on the ligament. You have very tight gastrocnemius and soleus muscles. They are the most powerful in the leg and when they’re unhappy the entire body can go south. That could contribute to the pain you’re feeling.”
“Could be,” he mumbled. How long would she continue the amazing torment? Could she see what she was doing to him? Maybe that was her plan. To tease him into forgetting why he was there at the cabin.
He should talk. Yes. Conversation would detour his craving.
“I’m curious. Why didn’t you stay in this career? You definitely have skill.”
She paused and looked at him as if the question caught her off guard. “I enjoyed it, but I lost interest.”
“I get the feeling that happens often.” Once the words were out, he realized he’d made her upset. Her lips thinned and the space between her brows scrunched. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Only if you didn’t mean to sound like my mother and Uncle Brent.” She squeezed his knee a little too tightly and he squinted. He had a feeling she meant to cause the pressure.
“They’re probably looking out for your best benefit.”
“That’s what they say too. Great.” She rolled her eyes. “Just what I need. Another Uncle Brent.”
He chuckled. “I’m trying to be your uncle, but you said yourself that you’re kind of floating from job to job.” Instinct warned him that this path of discussion would lead to destruction, so then maybe he was intentionally sabotaging himself.
“Why does everyone think they have to be involved in m
y career choice? Why does everyone want to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.” She stepped back, nailing him with a wicked expression. He had definitely pushed a button and a part of him felt guilty. They’d been getting along pretty good until now.
“Hazel—”
“Are you going to say that I shouldn’t take it so seriously?” She wiped her hands off on a towel. “Or are you doing a favor for my uncle? Is this part of the deal?”
Growling, he sat up and hung his legs over the side of the bed, settling his feet on the wooden floor that was about as cold as her expression. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You wouldn’t be the first man to use me to get to my uncle. He can call in favors with friends. Personal and career wise.” She tossed the towel onto the bed. “Which is it for you? Need an advancement in your career? Or do you have a personal need?”
“Wait just a minute! I had no clue that you were the Congressman’s niece and I wasn’t the one who came up with the idea to come here with you.” He wanted to tell her that he didn’t need anything from Congressman Noleen, but then Cox would be lying. He did need Noleen to help Cris, as he’d promised. But Cox wasn’t using Hazel. He’d never use her or any woman unless they were in complete agreement.
“That’s what you say.” She busied herself capping the lotion bottle and blew out the flame on a nearby candle.
“Wow. When you get mad you truly lose the path to logic.” He blew out a long breath and tore a hand through his hair. How the hell had they gone from hot to cold in seconds? Or maybe it was cold to hot because he felt a burning deep in his gut.
“Is that so?” She pressed a hand to her flared hip and stared him down.
“Your career is a touchy subject. Sure. I get that, but don’t take your anger out on me,” he growled.
“Then don’t go giving me advise or sharing your left field thoughts about my career. I hear it enough from those people who say they love me.”
There in those amazing eyes he saw raw emotion that triggered a compassionate part of him he thought he lost somewhere between the death of his unit overseas and the evil on the streets of Wyoming. He got what she was saying. She knew eventually she’d need to figure out her future, but she wanted to do it without the pressure of everyone around her. He stood, holding the knot of the towel tight. “I’m sorry if my lack of clear communication has pissed you off. Hell, this is modern times. You can do whatever the hell you want. Dog sit. Massage therapy. Heck, you can even dance exotically, and no one should tell you you’re wrong.”
Tormented by the Lawman (Mountain Force Book 3) Page 13