And neither are you, he reminded himself. She’s in pain, remember? Maybe later. He’d have to wait and see.
He sighed. “But even more than that, I want you to feel better. Just for one night, eh? You can go back to being a martyr tomorrow.” He held her gaze, letting her know he wasn’t happy with her self-flagellation.
She gave a small nod and he turned away.
There was a moment of silence. Then he heard the sounds of clothing being removed and the squeak of the bed as she shifted.
“Are you ready?” he asked when it went quiet again.
“Yes,” she said softly.
He turned to see her lying on her front, her elbows squeezed against her side, face on the pillow as she looked over her shoulder at him with large eyes. She still wore her jeans, but her slender, naked back shone pale in the light from the lamp by the bed. The long scar across her shoulder blades was clearly visible.
He reached out and brushed it gently. “Is it painful to touch?”
“No, not really,” she said quietly. “It was only a scratch. It’s more of a muscular thing. They’ve told me it will get better with time, although I haven’t noticed any improvement yet.”
He took off his tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves, then climbed onto the bed with the lotion. “Taking anti-inflammatories would help. And massage is good for relaxing the joints and stretching the muscles.” He poured a little lotion onto his hands. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, but tell me if it’s uncomfortable.”
“Okay.” She turned her face away from him.
He warmed the lotion, then smoothed it down her back from shoulder blade to hip. Her skin was cool, and he tingled from head to toe at the thought that he finally had his hands on her, but he gave his libido a stern talking-to and concentrated on her muscles. Trapezius, latissimus dorsi, multifidus spinae. All linking the bones of her neck, shoulders and spine.
Unsure how much pressure she would be able to bear, he concentrated initially on gentle, soothing strokes to warm the muscles, brushing up over her shoulders and smoothing circular patterns down either side of her back, avoiding her spine.
For the first few minutes she was tense, but as she obviously realised he knew what he was doing, she loosened her shoulders and relaxed into it, bringing her arms up underneath the pillow and exposing the pale skin on either side of the rib cage. He could just see the swell of her breast, soft and creamy white against the dark duvet.
Concentrate, Molony. He forced his gaze back to her shoulders and gritted his teeth. First he had to take away the pain. Then maybe he could let his mind turn to other things.
As her muscles warmed, he began to work them harder, using pressure to knead away the knots and lumps that had formed and losing himself in the task as his hands moved automatically, massaging, squeezing and manipulating until she felt like warm dough in his hands.
He worked for twenty minutes, and then went back to long, gentle, soothing strokes meant to relax. Finally, he sat back and wiped his hands on the towel.
Mia didn’t move. Her rib cage rose and fell slowly, and her cheeks had a pink flush to them for the first time that day.
She was asleep.
Chapter Nine
When she awoke, the only light came from the lamp beside the bed, which cast the room in a warm, golden glow.
Mia blinked, realised where she was, and went to push herself up onto her elbows. At the last minute, though, she turned her head and saw Colm stretched out beside her, reading.
He looked over as she moved, and smiled. “Hey, you.”
“Hey.” She smiled back shyly. He’d covered her over with the duvet, but it didn’t change the fact that she was naked from the waist up. “How long have I been asleep?”
He looked at the clock on the wall. “Just over an hour.”
“I’m sorry. You should have gone back to your own room.”
“I wanted to make sure you were feeling okay when you woke up.”
Holding the duvet to her breasts, she pushed herself to a sitting position and rolled her shoulders. Miraculously, her spine was almost free of pain, and her muscles felt loose and relaxed. “Oh, gosh, that feels good.”
“Magic fingers.” He wiggled them and smiled.
She brought up her knees and clasped her arms around them, resting her cheek on her knees as she surveyed him. He’d taken off his glasses to read, and his hair was ruffled as if he’d run his hand through it several times. He’d opened a few buttons at the top of his shirt, and she could see a sprinkling of light brown hair on his chest. He looked good enough to eat, and his sexy smile wasn’t helping matters.
Talking of eating… Her stomach rumbled and she glanced at the table in the small kitchenette, on which lay a collection of small boxes. “What’s that?”
“Chinese,” he said. “I nipped out. I thought you might be hungry.”
“I’m starving.”
He sat up. “Are you happy to eat together?”
She smiled. “Of course.” She still couldn’t believe he’d massaged her. His touch had been gentle but firm, and he’d clearly known what he was doing.
“Cool. I’ll dish up while you get dressed, if you like.”
He rose and went into the kitchen, and busied himself with dividing the food onto plates. She pulled her bag onto the mattress and took out the large T-shirt she wore in bed. She was past worrying about what to wear in front of him. He made her feel so comfortable and relaxed that things like that didn’t seem to matter.
With surprise she noticed him pouring wine into two glasses.
“Um, I’m not sure I should drink if I’ve had pills,” she said.
“I checked the label and there are no contra-indications with alcohol,” he said. “It’s up to you—I just think at the moment that anything that relaxes you would be good.”
“Orgasms are relaxing.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
To his credit, he just laughed and gave her an amused glance. “Absolutely. We’ll talk about that after dinner.”
A delicious warmth spread through her. She loved men who weren’t put off by women who liked sex, and he seemed to enjoy flirting with her. In many ways that was what she had missed most—the companionship of flirting and talking about intimate things almost as much as doing the intimate things themselves.
Almost.
She eyed him mischievously as he brought her plate over to the bed. I‘d love to get down and dirty with you, he’d said. Had he been joking, or had he meant it?
He met her gaze as he leaned across to place her wine on the bedside table and gave her a sexy smile. Oh ho, he meant it all right. He absolutely wanted to get her into bed.
How exciting.
He brought over his own plate and glass and sat on the bed next to her, back up against the headboard and legs stretched out. She turned to face him, legs crossed, and they began to eat their dinner.
“Nice shirt,” he said after a few mouthfuls, pointing to it with his chopsticks.
She looked down. The T-shirt was pink with a large picture of a rabbit in a top hat. “It’s comfortable,” she said defensively.
“I wasn’t criticising. It’s pretty.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Colm, for…well, everything.”
He stopped with the chopsticks halfway to his mouth and smiled back. “You’re welcome.” He ate the noodles as he considered her. “You shouldn’t suffer, you know. Nothing is served by suffering.”
“I know.” She pushed a few peas around her plate. “I know I’m being self-indulgent. It’s just…” She cleared her throat and took a bite out of a spring roll. “I wasn’t ready. Maybe I am now. I don’t know. I am trying.”
He picked up his glass and held it out to her. She picked up her own and clinked it against his.
“To moving on,” he said.
She nodded slowly. “To moving on.”
They took a couple of swallows of the wine and carried on eating their dinner.
He put down his plate and ran his hand through his hair before reaching for his glass again, and she couldn’t help but stare as the cotton sleeve stretched across his biceps. Maybe it was the fact that he’d touched her skin with his bare hands, or maybe it was just that she hadn’t had sex in a very long time, but suddenly she yearned to touch him, to kiss him, to have him inside her. She wanted him, badly, and without further ado, she made up her mind.
“What?” he said, and she realised she’d been staring.
She finished off the last mouthful of wine in her glass. The alcohol had started to thread through her veins. Her muscles were soft and pliable, her brain beginning to stop its incessant churning. “I have a pack of cards in my bag,” she said. “Want to play?”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Sure.”
“Cool.” She finished off her dinner and got up to take their plates to the sink, stretching and enjoying the freedom of not having the familiar ache between her shoulder blades. After taking out the cards, she brought them back to the bed where he was in the process of pouring out another glass of wine for each of them. She felt pleasantly relaxed and comfortable in his company.
“I like you,” she said, sitting opposite him again.
He smiled. “I like you, too.”
“No, I mean really like you.” It seemed important that he knew.
He sipped his wine, his eyes meeting hers, amused. “Good.”
“You really like me too?” she asked hopefully.
He gave a small, resigned sigh. “Yes, Mia. I really like you too. Really really.” He winked at her.
“Good.” She shuffled the cards, suddenly happy. “Know how to play whist?”
“Sure.”
“Okay.”
She dealt the cards and they played a couple of rounds. He was pretty bad at it, but then so was she, so things were fairly even. They chatted as they played, and as time ticked by and the room grew darker, they drew the curtains and put the TV on to murmur quietly in the background.
By this time they’d made their way through half the box of chocolates he’d been thoughtful enough to buy. He’d slid down the pillows until he was practically lying down, and she’d moved closer so they were only a foot apart.
It was late, they’d drunk a bottle and a half of wine between them, and his eyelids had slid to half-mast. He looked relaxed and content and sexy, and she finally plucked up the courage to make a suggestion.
“Want to play strip whist?”
He stared at her. Gradually, he smiled. “You’re only saying that because you know I’m rubbish at it.”
“Yep.”
He grinned. “Okay.”
Her heart pounded as she dealt out seven cards. Her inhibitions were rapidly fading and naughtiness surged through her. “Right, so every time you win a trick, you can ask a sexy question of the other person, as well as making them remove an item of clothing.”
“Sure.” He fanned out his cards and began to put them in order. “I like the way you got me drunk before you suggested this so I’d be even more useless at it.”
“You’re drunk after three glasses of wine? Jeez. Way to hold your liquor, dude.”
“I’m a cheap date.” He turned over the top card on the pack. “Hearts are trumps.” He played the ace of diamonds and grinned at her.
Cool as a chilled cucumber, she laid down the two of hearts.
He stared at it. “You have to lay a diamond if you have one.”
“I don’t have one.”
He huffed a sigh and plonked his cards face down on the bed. “Shit. Okay. Go on then.”
“Clothing first.”
He took off a sock and threw it on the floor. “Fire away.”
She studied him thoughtfully. “Favourite sexual position.”
“Woman on top.” He picked up his cards, unfazed. “Too easy. Your turn.”
She blinked. “Do you want time to think about it?”
“No need.”
“What do you like about the woman being on top?”
He fanned out his cards again. “I get a good view. Plus she can control things at her own pace.”
His lack of embarrassment and matter-of-factness made her shiver with desire, but she played it down. “It’s a bit passive. Some would say lazy.”
He grinned at that. “You worried I’m not macho enough for you?”
“Are you? I can be quite demanding.”
“We’ll see.” He smirked and indicated her cards. “Your turn.”
She laid down the king of clubs.
He sighed. “I can see how this is going to go.” He put the three of clubs on top of it.
She giggled and scooped up the trick. “I win. Next sock.” She watched him remove it before lying back again. “And next question. Um…” She thought about it. “Favourite kinky thing to do in bed.”
“Depends on your definition of kinky.”
“You want a list?” She’d expected him to be more shocked and disapproving at her outspokenness and was both surprised and delighted at his lack of awkwardness.
“Maybe.” He grinned. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
“You tell me something, and I’ll tell you if I think it’s kinky,” she suggested.
“Okay. Jumper cables.”
She stared at him.
“I’m kidding, Mia.” He rolled his eyes. Then he studied her thoughtfully. A smile spread slowly across his face. “A vibrator.”
“Ooh.” She couldn’t stop her eyes widening.
“Kinky enough?” he asked her.
“It’s a start.”
“I guess it depends what you do with it.”
They both laughed and she examined her cards. “My turn. Get ready. I have a funny feeling you’ll be sitting there starkers before I’ve even got my pants off.” She laid down the ten of spades.
He put down the jack and grinned. “Think again.” He gestured at her, eyes gleaming. “Come on. Kit off.”
Chapter Ten
Colm grinned, and Mia cursed and shot him a glare. Anticipation flooded him. He could see she wasn’t wearing socks. The only real piece of clothing she could remove was her jeans.
Sighing, she pushed herself off the bed and stood before him. She slid her fingers down to her waist provocatively and raised an eyebrow as she slowly unbuttoned the jeans. He refused to be intimidated and just winked, so she stuck out her tongue, turned her back and slid her jeans down over her butt to reveal the tiniest pair of white lace panties he’d ever seen.
She kicked off the jeans, sat back on the bed and crossed her legs. Luckily her T-shirt came down to her thighs or he wouldn’t have been able to tear his gaze away. As it was, he was conscious of his erection straining at his trousers again.
He cleared his throat. “Okay, time for the question.”
“Fire away.” Her direct gaze dared him to try and embarrass her.
He decided that probably wasn’t possible and thought about what he’d really like to know. “What do you prefer—an orgasm through oral sex, or one through penetrative sex?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Ooh, good question.”
“I thought so.”
“I really don’t know.”
“You have to answer. It’s the law.”
She thought about it for a moment. “Do you want the honest answer?”
“Always.”
“Um…” For the first time, she looked unsure. “To be perfectly honest… It’s been so long since I had an orgasm through oral sex, I can’t remember.”
He frowned. “I thought your last boyfriend
was back in February?”
“Yeah. I can’t stress how crap he was in bed.”
“Jeez Louise, I’m beginning to get that.”
“He didn’t like giving oral sex.”
Annoyance bubbled through him. What kind of wanker wouldn’t want to go down on the beautiful Mia? “Fucking hell. Sorry. But what an idiot.”
“Yeah. We weren’t together long.”
“Really? Shocking.”
She giggled. “So I’ll have to wait to make my decision.”
“Sure thing. You can give me an answer at the end of the evening.” He kept his gaze on the cards for a moment before mischievously raising his eyes to hers. “What?”
She smiled, eyes sparkling, but just gestured to his cards. “Go on, then.”
He played the queen of clubs.
She laid the five of hearts on top of it.
“For God’s sake.” He glared with frustration.
“Shirt,” she said.
He unbuttoned it and slid it off, then lay back and picked up his cards, pretending not to notice her staring.
“Holy fuck, Colm. That’s some upper body you’ve got there.”
He chuckled. “Thank you, sweetheart. What’s your question?”
“I’m sorry, I think I’ve forgotten how to speak.” She mimed putting her eyes back in her head. “Okay, a question.” She retrieved her glass and had a swallow of wine as she thought about it, still staring at his chest. “Most interesting place you’ve ever had sex.”
“Another easy one. The computer desk in the staff room.”
For the first time she looked genuinely shocked. “What!”
He burst out laughing. “You are so easy to wind up. Christ, Mia, I’m kidding. Who the hell would I want to get off with at work apart from you?”
She gathered her wits quickly, her glare letting him know he was in trouble. “Oh I don’t know, I think the year-seven dean has her eye on you.”
He gave her an exasperated look. The year-seven dean was about a hundred and eighty and scared him witless.
“You haven’t given me a proper answer,” she said.
“Dublin Park at two in the morning.”
Talking Sense: Sensual Healing, Book 3 Page 6