As a model, I guessed that she was used to being naked around people. And nudity honestly didn’t bother me. The fact that my Ex’s fiancée was seven months pregnant and I still had more cellulite than her…did.
My annoyance had nothing to do with Tad. I had no interest in getting back together with him. I just didn’t need to see my replacement’s model-perfect body up close and personal.
But I had, for the same reason I was going to give Travis a proper massage, because I was a professional. I was so tired at this point that I wasn’t sure even Travis Briggs in his birthday suit would wake me up.
A knock on the door startled me. I turned and looked at the door and now that the moment was here I realized I’d been naïve to think my exhaustion would help me get through this. My heart was racing as I crossed the room to the door, but I wasn’t going to back out. I finished things I started and I always kept my word.
When I turned the knob and pulled the door open Travis stood on the other side wearing one of his trademark smiles that fell as soon as he saw me. “Are you feeling okay? You look tired.”
“Wow.” I shook my head as he came in and I shut the door. “It’s a good thing you’re not my real boyfriend.”
“Why’s that?” he asked as his grin returned making him look both bad boy and perfect gentleman. I didn’t know how a smile could do that, but Travis pulled it off. It was easy to get distracted by it, but I wouldn’t get sidetracked.
Placing my hands on hips, I stood my ground. “‘Are you feeling okay’ and ‘you look tired’ are both code for ‘you look like crap.’”
“Hey.” He stepped forward with an earnest look in his honey colored eyes and his tone was filled with sincerity as he said, “One man’s crap is another man’s treasure.”
Laughter burst from me. The best part of hanging out with Travis is that he never said what I expected him to.
“Seriously, though. You look tired. Beautiful, but tired.” He lifted his hand and his knuckles grazed my cheek as he brushed a strand of hair out of my face.
Him touching and complimenting me were definitely in the number two and three spots of “The Best Parts of Hanging Out With Travis” list.
It would be so easy to let myself float off into a fantasyland where we were really a couple. It would be so easy to lean on him. It would be so easy to pretend that this was real.
He was standing a few inches in front of me and I had the strongest urge to step forward and fold into his arms. I wanted to feel his strength enveloping me so much I wanted to cry. This couldn’t happen.
Clapping my hands I motioned to the bed. “Okay, so last night was nice, but tonight you get the full…” I tried to think of the right word but all I could think of was package, which had my eyes wandering down his body to his jeans, causing my mind to be even more clouded.
“Full…um…um…” I finally spurt out, “treatment.”
“Monty,” he said at the exact same time.
“Well, you’re going be full Monty while I give you the full treatment, so we’re both right.”
Travis’ eyes sparked with interest. “You want me to get naked?”
“That is normally how massages are done. Last night I concentrated on your upper body but tonight I’m going to concentrate on your—”
“Lower body,” Travis cut me off, wagging his brows up and down.
I couldn’t help but laugh again. He had the sense of humor of a seventh grader, but somehow it was charming. So many things that came out of his mouth would come off so corny in the wrong hands, but everything Travis said just worked.
It wasn’t lost on me how girls could fall so hard and so fast for Travis. It was more unbelievable to me that anyone could be around him and not fall for him. I knew I certainly had.
Straightening my shoulders, I tried to sound as professional as possible with not a hint of innuendo, because if I gave him an inch he would take ten miles. “It will be a full body, deep tissue massage.”
“As much as I’d love you to massage my tissues,” he lowered his voice and the vibrato filled the small room, “I think we should renegotiate the terms of our agreement.”
I tried to keep my tone even so he wouldn’t know how my body was already responding to where my mind was headed. “What did you have in mind?”
His face morphed into a mask of seriousness. “You’ve been working so hard. And last night that massage was amazing. But, tonight, I think it’s time for you to relax and let someone else take the reins.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So you’re proposing…?” I trailed off, leaving the sentence open-ended, letting him fill in the blank. I wanted to see where he was going with his pitch.
“Let’s switch things up. When’s the last time you got a massage?”
“In school, probably. We used to have to practice on each other to get in our hours.”
“Well, then, I think you’re past due.”
That wasn’t where I’d thought he was going, but I couldn’t say I hated it. “You want to give me a massage?”
“Yes.”
“No. That wasn’t our deal.” I started panicking a little thinking of what would happen if Travis gave me a massage. I’d been able to restrain myself with all the flirting, innocent touches, and even the kissing, but I wasn’t a saint. “And you’re not a massage therapist.”
Lifting his hands in the air, he wiggled his fingers. “I don’t want to step on any toes, but you’re not the only one who’s been called magic fingers.”
A part-grunt, part-huff was my response because of course he’d been called that.
He cocked his head to the side. “Do you doubt my ability to live up to that name?”
“No,” I said emphatically.
“I don’t know, I think that’s a challenge.”
I raised my hands in surrender. “It’s not a challenge.”
He put his hand over his heart, hamming it up for effect. “I feel that it’s my duty as your pretend boyfriend to cash in my second massage and insist that I am the massager and you are the massagee.
“You’ve been runnin’ yourself ragged, darlin’. Putting out fires, fixin’ every problem that comes up, never letting anyone see you sweat. From what I’ve seen, you never take care of the most important person. You. Who takes care of you? Can you please, just for tonight, relax and let me take care of you?” he concluded with mock gravity.
My eyes widened. Whoa. I hoped he hadn’t seen the involuntary reaction, which could clue him in to just how much those words had affected me. Innocent and joking as they might be, they still struck a chord deep within me. It was true. I scrambled to stay on top, to never show a flaw, to outperform expectations at every turn.
The thought of just lying back, not a care in the world, while Travis took care of me?
Heaven on earth.
I closed my eyes and let myself revel in the fantasy for a moment, and then it occurred to me—why did it just have to be a fantasy? He was here. I was here. And he was offering.
Just because turning down any kind of helping hand is my go-to move doesn’t make it the right one.
I opened my eyes, squared my shoulders and agreed. “Okay.”
His eyebrows rose. “Okay?”
“You seem surprised.”
“I am. I didn’t really expect you to take me up on it. But, damn, I’m sure glad you did.”
I laughed. I was glad, too—if a little nervous. I glanced over at the hotel bed, where I’d already laid out the modesty towel. There on the nightstand was the hot oil. I hadn’t really thought through the erotic implications of using the bed as a massage platform when I’d laid the items out. I’d been in “professional” mode when I’d done that. It had been a simple decision—I didn’t have my table with me, so what was the nearest approximation? The bed.
But, now—looking at the inviting white sheets and imagining my naked skin against them, covered only by the small, white towel—while Travis’ hot, strong, slick hands moved over my skin,
his fingers digging into my flesh—
I stopped that train of thought in its tracks. I kind of had to. Otherwise, there was a very decent chance I’d pass out.
He must’ve sensed my hesitation because he stated matter-of-factly, “The same rules apply for you that did for me. Full Monty for a full treatment.”
I looked up at Travis, not quite able to meet his eyes on the off chance he could look straight through them like a peephole and see the dirty fantasies playing out in my mind. “Okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, “Can you go in the bathroom so I can…get ready?”
He gave a sexy, knowing half-smile, accompanied by a wink that made me think that he really might have been able to read my mind. But he didn’t argue. I grabbed the towel and he turned and walked into the bathroom, letting the door shut behind him with a satisfying thunk.
As soon as I heard the noise, my hands flew to my face, rubbing the hot skin of my cheeks to try to calm them. Damn. No use.
My hands shook as I took off all my clothes, folding them carefully and setting them in the armchair in the corner. I tucked my panties and bra neatly in between my shirt and jeans so they weren’t visible. Yeah. Hide your unmentionables. Geez, girl. That’s a lot of modesty for someone who’s about to let someone oil up their hands and rub them all over her naked body.
I put the incongruousness out of my mind and slipped under the towel, making sure that it was draped sufficiently to cover up all my most interesting bits.
Finally, I took a deep breath. “Okay!” I called. “You can come back in now!”
I lay my head down on the pillow with my face turned away from the bathroom door. I couldn’t be looking at his face when he saw me. For whatever reason, that was just too much. The nakedness, the touching—that was all one thing. But looking into his eyes as he saw me sprawled out on the bed…somehow that felt more intimate. Over the line of what I could handle.
Still, even though my eyes were fixed firmly on the wall, the sharp intake of air I heard after the click of the bathroom door opening told me all I needed to know about how he felt about what he saw.
I had expected him to make a charming, smartass comment, but he didn’t, and I was glad. Somehow, it felt like it would ruin the moment. Break the magic spell.
Every sound added to the stretched-rubber-band tension in my body: his footsteps as he walked over to the bed, the snap of the oil bottle cap as he opened it, the whoosh of the oil hitting his hands, and the slick friction as he rubbed his palms together to coat them with the slippery substance.
Then, just when I thought I couldn’t endure the tension for even one more instant, I felt it. His hands on my skin. My muscles jumped as the most powerful electric jolt I’d ever felt rocked me to the core. Then, I just sighed and settled in to enjoy it.
He may not have been professionally trained, but his hands were like miracles. His thumbs dug into the hard muscles in my back, working gently on particularly stubborn knots. God, it felt so good. And not just on an erotic level like I’d thought it would—he actually gave a pretty damn decent massage!
As his hands worked their way lower and lower down my back, an involuntary groan escaped from my throat.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked. His tone was teasing, but his voice was raspy and thin.
“I could ask you the same question.”
“No need. The answer’s obvious.”
He worked my lower back with his thumbs and knuckles, rotating in mesmerizing little circles that undid the knots that had formed there as if my muscles were under his spell.
Then, in a move so bold I wasn’t sure at first that it wasn’t just happening in my imagination, he took his hands off of my back and started rubbing and kneading my legs. His strong, confident touch started at my ankles and focused on my calves first. I was suddenly incredibly grateful that I’d taken the time to shave my legs that morning.
I reveled in the sensation—not just of his powerful touch, but of being so completely taken care of. I wasn’t used to that. In fact, I was used to just the opposite. I was the responsible one. I was the caretaker. I was the director. I was the producer. And it wasn’t that I hated that. But this was a total role reversal and I loved it.
There was one small—huge—problem. If this was what it felt like to have Travis in charge, I felt like I could definitely get used to it. Yep. That wouldn’t be a tough transition at all.
His strong fingers worked their way rhythmically up my thighs, edging closer and closer to the molten core between my legs. My breathing sped up. I didn’t know how much longer I was going to be able to maintain this facade of stillness and calm. Pretty soon, my muscles were going to rebel and start squirming and writhing on their own.
Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. After all, even though I was working really hard to keep up my personal standards of dignity, I didn’t think that it was any real mystery to Travis that his touch was having an effect on me. And, oh, sweet Lord, it would be so lovely to just surrender. Just let him have his way.
Travis’ fingers stilled on my legs, as if he were reading my mind and understood the mental crossroads I was facing. “Do you want me to stop?” he whispered. His voice was soft so as not to break the spell. “Or do you want more?”
I barely hesitated. Objections flew into my brain and out again just as swiftly. Somehow, they all seemed silly and tissue-paper thin when stacked up against the prospect that Travis would keep touching me. Oh, yes…I needed him to keep touching me.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered back, my voice soft and ethereal. “I want more.”
His hands resumed their tantalizing exploration of my flesh, slick with oil. I slid my hands underneath my body, leveraging them to push myself up and turn over. I’d barely raised myself up an inch, however, when his strong palms pushed me back down on the bed.
“You just relax,” he chastised. “This is about me doing the work. I know it’s tough, Ms. Director. But it’s time for you to settle in and let someone else take control.”
Holy! Freaking! Moly!
He could definitely read my mind as expertly as he read my body—and that was really saying something.
Travis slid the small modesty towel that had been covering my ass and my eyes flew open wide. It’s not like it had been a particularly substantial covering or anything, but it was now official—I was naked. Really, truly naked. And Travis’ hands were all over my body, and it felt amazing.
He ran his flat palms hard down my back, stopping to cup and knead my butt when they got there. I couldn’t hold still any longer. My hips trembled and writhed under the pressure of his touch, the feelings too overwhelming to control.
He then moved his demanding hands down my legs and up the inside of my thighs. As he moved his fingers up that tender flesh, he applied gentle pressure to spread my legs farther apart, opening up the folds of my sex for his inspection.
He trailed one fingertip up and down my sensitive outer lips, spreading the moisture that he found there. I loved the way that made me feel, like I was a cake that he was icing. Like he was putting his stamp on me.
With every pass up or down, he burrowed his fingers a bit more into my sensitive flesh, finally coming to rest on the hard, electric-charged nub at the top of my sex. He flicked it back and forth with the tip of his finger, sending jolts of lightening ricocheting through me, driving my muscles into spasms of pleasure.
When he had used that sweet little technique to work me up into a nearly uncontrollable frenzy, he plunged two fingers deep into me, moving them in and out at a fast and frenzied pace. If this was how amazing his fingers were then I couldn’t wait to see what his dick would feel like moving in and out in the same way.
He leaned down and I felt his hot breath against my ear. It was so unexpected it made me jump a little, but then a rush of heat ran through my entire body. The arousal it inspired within me was overwhelming and all-consuming.
And that was before I even heard the words h
e whispered.
“Roll over, Mia. Now it’s time for me to explore the front of that beautiful body of yours.”
Chapter 14
Travis
“If I was any happier, I’d be twins.”
~ Walker Briggs
Mia’s skin was supple under my hands, warm and trembling. I knew that this was really happening, but it felt like a dream. The best kind of dream. The kind I could only pray to never wake up from.
She rolled over on the bed, which left her now laying on her back. Her beautiful, soft breasts were now on full display and it was all I could do to keep from diving straight towards them. They were so tempting. But, hell. I had to show a little restraint.
So, instead, I started at her shoulders again, working my fingers firmly into her flesh. I knew it was going to feel good—after all, I’d just spent all that time massaging her back. Still, I wasn’t really prepared for it. Touching her skin, kneading her muscles, all while letting my eyes rake over her from head to toe. Shit. It was practically a religious experience.
I moved my hands up and down on her shoulders and upper arms, rotating my fingers in small but strong circles as I went. I really wanted this to be a good massage—naughty stuff aside. And, since she was the expert, I had to work hard to make that happen. So, just like I had to use superhuman strength to restrain myself from devouring her perfect breasts, I would continue to be as “professional” as possible while I paid attention to her muscles and not my urges.
It was easy in theory, hard in practice. Very, very hard. My dick was pushing so hard against my fly I was scared it was going to get bruised.
As much of an effort as I made to discipline myself, I still found that after a few minutes my fingers had a life of their own. No matter how much I tried to make my brain tell them to give Mia the massage she deserved, those damn fingers kept deciding that they really wanted to touch and explore her beautiful, smooth skin. To enjoy the feeling of the silky expanse of it as they rode lightly over her body.
Taming Travis (Wishing Well, Texas Book 4) Page 10