by Kelsie Rae
I’m a selfish bastard, though, and wait for her to decide what she wants for herself instead of letting her off the hook by suggesting the opposite of what I really want.
Which is her. On top of me.
Naked.
I shift my hips to get comfortable when I know there won’t be any relief until I can find some alone time after this. Or we finally just give in and take a nap together.
Unable to help myself, I glance up at her as she hovers over me.
With a smirk, I tease, “Any day now, Pretty Girl.”
There’s a moment of hesitation before she finally gives in and places her feet on both sides of my hips. The heat from between her legs practically brands my lower back as she sits down on top of me.
I squeeze my eyes shut and bask in the exquisite torture before releasing a slow breath out of my mouth.
Don’t roll over, Gage.
“Alright, ladies. Now that we’re all in position, I want you to pour a bit of the oil into your hands and rub it into your palms. This will help heat it up a little bit so that it won’t feel so cold against your partner’s back.”
Shifting against me, Nora reaches for the bottle, and my muscles tense beneath her.
You’re playing with fire, babe, I want to shout, but I bite my tongue. I’ve never been so close to coming in my board shorts before, but my restraint is seconds from snapping.
When a loud squirting sound breaks the lust-filled ambiance, my body rumbles with laughter beneath her, grateful for the opportunity to release a bit of the tension.
She smacks my back, giving me a turkey, which only makes me laugh harder.
“Ouch!”
“Don’t laugh at me!” she admonishes before snapping her mouth shut when the instructor gives her a dirty look.
“We want everyone to feel safe in this environment, ladies. Please do not break your partner’s trust by hitting or scratching them.”
“You can scratch my back anytime,” I counter to help ease Nora’s embarrassment. “Oh, and she knows I like it rough.”
The instructor purses her lips but doesn’t encourage me any further. “We will now start with the same circular motion but will add a little pressure by keeping our elbows locked and leaning into the movement. Once you’ve mastered this, I’d like you to draw your hands out from the spine to their sides. Understand?”
Nora digs her thumbs along the tight muscles on both sides of my spine before using the heel of her hands to spread out from the center of my back and to my sides, just like the instructor mentioned.
I groan. Probably a little too loudly because it’s followed by a soft chuckle from Nora.
Leaning forward, her mouth grazes the shell of my ear as she asks, “Does that feel good?”
“You have no idea.”
She rolls her hips into my lower back, torturing me on a whole new level while repeating the massage technique from seconds before.
“I beg to differ,” she breathes.
“Now, we’re going to work on a technique called longitudinal gliding,” the male instructor explains. The buzzing in my ears is too much for me to pay attention to anything else, and I pity Nora for needing to focus on his instructions when I get to just lie here and get lost in her touch.
By the time the class finishes, I can’t get up. Well, not without looking indecent, anyway.
“How you doin’ down there,” Nora teases as the class empties and leaves us dangerously alone together.
Pressing up onto my elbows while keeping my hips firmly against the yoga mat, I mutter, “Oh, ya know…just great.”
“So, how’d I do? Do you feel relaxed?”
“Actually, I feel a lot of pent-up frustration right now. You?”
Her face lights up with amusement, which only fuels the fire. “I feel all loosy goosy, thanks to you. Maybe I need to keep working on my technique, though. I mean, if you’re not feeling very satisfied….”
“Yeah. You should definitely work on that. I’d be happy to let you practice on me. We could always go to my room….” I let my voice trail off. I don’t want her to feel any pressure from me, but I also want to make it clear that I’m game if she is.
“Don’t hate me, but I’m going to have to take a rain check on that. The next session is in thirty minutes, and I want to change into something other than my swimsuit before it starts.” She has the decency to look sheepish as she turns me down. Amused, but sheepish. “Want to meet me in thirty minutes?”
“Yeah, sure.”
She offers her hand to help me up, but I wave her off. “Nah. I’ll just sit here for another minute. Thanks, though.”
Laughing, she covers her face before nudging my T-shirt toward me. “Gotcha. Well…I guess I’ll just see you in a few. Do you know where the next session will be held?”
I shake my head.
“It’s in the same room the keynote speaker was in last night.”
“The room with the open bar?”
“Yup.”
“Alright, I’ll see you there in thirty.”
“Perfect. And uh…”––she motions to my prone position while scrunching up her bright red face––“I’m sorry about…that.”
“Sure, you are. Are Cancers known for enjoying the torture of innocent victims, or is this more of a Nora-specific trait?”
“Innocent, my ass,” she counters, placing her hands on her hips. “Besides, you started it. Your hands are magical, Gage.”
With a cocky grin, I tell her, “You have no idea, but I’d love to give you a more intimate demonstration.”
She covers her face, then peeks between her fingers. “You are incorrigible. I’m going to go. I’ll see you in a few.”
“See ya soon, Pretty Girl.”
11
Nora
The open room is so quiet that I’m pretty sure you could hear a pin drop as we wait for Dr. Lorringer to begin. It’s funny; she’s spent the last ten minutes sitting at the edge of the room while watching the couples interact. But because everyone knows who she is, thanks to the headshot plastered on one of the walls with the words Dr. Lorringer, couple’s therapist and author of the New York Times’ Best-Selling Novel, Keep the Spark: The Secret to a Healthy, Passionate, and Lasting Relationship typed beneath it, no one has moved a muscle.
The place is set up similarly to the couple’s massage class with yoga mats for chairs. All of the other furniture has been pushed to the perimeter of the room. The only differences are that we’re not really in a circle, and there are twice as many people attending. The majority are wearing pins and share mats with their partners.
I glance over at Gage and take in his chiseled profile that showcases his sexy mouth and strong jaw. I know there’s a red tag sticking to his shirt that says he’s off the market, but I kind of want to lick him like a lollipop to claim him as my own and keep the other cuter girls away from the guy.
And I kind of want to lick him because he’s hot as hell too.
Yeah, I’m gonna go ahead and guess that passion won’t be an issue for us. Not after our little massage session, anyway. I have never truly understood the phrase hot and bothered until that moment. I sneak another peek at Gage, then snap my head forward when I realize I’ve been caught.
Still, from my periphery, a very satisfied Gage leans down and whispers in my ear, “Call it a hunch, but I don’t think we’re going to have a very big problem with the whole passion part. You sure we need to be here?”
“I was just thinking the same thing, but regardless of whatever’s going on with…us, I’m supposed to be here to shadow the event in case anyone needs anything. Maybe we can learn a thing or two, though. I mean, I didn’t expect to learn much from the couple’s massage workshop and ended up enjoying it. Did you?”
His deep chuckle causes my stomach to tighten. “I think we both know how much I enjoyed that class. And if this one can get you on top of me again, you won’t hear me complaining.”
“Noted,” I flirt as the woman
of the hour finally sways toward the center of the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Build Your Passion With Your Partner workshop! I am so happy that you’ve ventured in to join us today. I see a few familiar faces in the crowd. Thank you for joining me again on this journey. I was so impressed by the copious amount of emails I received that mentioned you and your partner are solely here to hear me speak. It’s a very humbling experience to stand before you today, so I thank you for your support. Building passion with a partner might sound easy to some of you. To others, it could sound quite intimidating or downright scary. We’re here this evening to talk about the importance of that passion. Not only on a physical level but on an emotional one, as well. To most of you, this is where it gets scary. Raise your hand if you’ve been hurt in the past.” Dr. Lorringer looks around the room as hands start popping up like dandelions. With a gentle nod that I’m pretty sure she isn’t even aware she’s doing, she continues, “Raise your hand if one of your friends or family members has ever been hurt, or if you’ve been the one to hurt someone else?”
More hands rise, including mine and Gage’s. I swallow thickly as my eyes zero in on his calloused palm hanging in the air. Has someone he’s close to been hurt? Or did he do the hurting and hasn’t told me? My breath catches in my throat.
“Thank you for sharing a little piece of your vulnerability with us. This is the first step to really opening yourself to love and passion. Now, I’m seeing a few ghostly pale people in the audience,” she teases, breaking the heaviness of her previous statement with a few laughs. “Don’t worry. We’ll be discussing plenty of ways to spark the physical side of passion, as well. But first, I want to cover the nitty-gritty that no one likes to talk about, then we’ll move to the more fun portion. Does that sound good to everyone?”
The crowd stays silent. Whether it’s because they’re anxious for her to continue, or if they’re trying to figure out whether or not they want to stay and dissect old wounds, I don’t know. But it’s enough to make me squirm in my seat, which happens to be a weathered, lavender yoga mat. It’s facing the long way, which gives Gage plenty of room to sit beside me while resting with his legs crossed out in front of him.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes,” Dr. Lorringer quips. “So, this is usually the most brutal part where I ask for volunteers to share their stories. It usually goes one of two ways. Either everyone’s hands are in the air, or none are. So, instead, we’re going to own our vulnerability, and I’m going to choose someone that has already given their approval for being a guinea pig. Let’s all give our host for the evening, Nora Daniels, a round of applause.”
While clapping ensues, my butt stays glued to the floor.
Given their approval? Bullshit. Nope. No, thank you. I’m good.
Looking around the room, Dr. Lorringer repeats, “Nora? Nora Daniels?”
With a curse on the tip of my tongue, I start to push myself up when Gage grabs my arm and whispers, “Did you volunteer for this?”
“No, but I have a hunch that Gem volunteered for me,” I grit out before standing to my full height.
“There she is! Thank you so much, Nora. Will you please bring your partner, as well?”
My eyes are the size of saucers as I look down at Gage.
Appearing less than amused, the saint stands up beside me, then presses his hand to my lower back and guides me to the front of the room. I can feel everyone’s eyes on us as we stand awkwardly side by side and wait for Dr. Lorringer to dive right in.
“Thank you for being so accommodating. Obviously, you’re Nora Daniels, and what is your partner’s name?”
“Umm…he’s, uh…”––I motion to him––“this is Gage.”
“It’s nice to meet you both. Can we give them another round of applause?” More clapping ensues. “I assume you are a new couple. Is that correct?”
“How could you tell?” Gage razzes before tossing his arm over my shoulder and pulling me into his side. I gotta give him props; he’s definitely rolling with the punches, while I’m standing here like a bump on a log.
“Because I see two individuals in front of me who have yet to really connect on a deeper level. Either you’re both keeping each other at a distance, or the relationship is simply too new, and you haven’t quite figured out how to cultivate a lasting connection. Yes, I see a few roots here and there that are fighting to take hold, but it hasn’t happened yet.”
She doesn’t bother to ask us if she’s correct, but it doesn’t stop Gage from countering, “Aww, come on. What are you talking about? I proposed to her the first time we met. If those aren’t roots, then I don’t know what are.”
I laugh, though inside a little voice shouts, Kill me. Kill me now.
This is so awkward.
“You proposed?” Dr. Lorringer prods.
“I wanted to break the ice with a pretty girl,” Gage explains with a casual shrug.
“And a proposal seemed like the easiest way to break it?”
“My friends and I were talking about a friend who had just gotten engaged a few minutes before I met Nora. I guess the idea stuck.”
“Do you think it might’ve been a defense mechanism, by chance? You were afraid you’d never get married and wanted to experience a bit of the high that comes with such a monumental commitment, then you saw a pretty girl and thought, ‘Why not?’”
“What? No. I mean, yes, she’s pretty but….” His arm drops from around my shoulders as he squeezes the back of his neck. “I don’t want to get married. That’s not really on my radar.”
“Which is why my comment holds even more merit. From how little I know of you––so, yes, take that into consideration––I’ve gotten a very strong feeling that you’re not interested in that type of commitment, which you just admitted. Yet, you were willing to propose to a complete stranger, even if it was only for a moment because a small piece of you is searching for that type of connection with someone and the commitment that goes along with it.”
My gaze bounces between the two like a tennis ball during a tennis match.
This is not good. This is so not good.
I can feel the tension radiating off him like it’s my own. He doesn’t like being psychoanalyzed, especially in front of a group of strangers. Or maybe it’s my presence that’s making him so uncomfortable. He’s never minded being the center of attention before now. I don’t blame him for being frustrated, though. My skin is itchy with the knowledge that I’m next. And I’m not going to like it.
Seriously. I’m going to kill Gem.
When Gage remains quiet, Dr. Lorringer presses, “Care to tell us why you’re so afraid of commitment?”
“I’m not afraid. I just don’t want it.”
“Why? You need to dig deeper. No one just doesn’t want it.”
“I don’t.”
“Hmmm,” she hums, clearly unconvinced. “Can I ask what happens when you’re sick?”
“What do you mean?” Gage asks. He’s not the only one confused by the abrupt subject change.
“When you’re sick, who takes care of you?”
“Uh…myself?”
Turning to me, she asks, “Nora, have you ever taken care of a loved one? Whether it’s a grandparent, a sibling, a lover, or a child?”
“My nephew,” I offer, though I could follow it with another ten names if she needed me to.
“Care to give us an example?”
I think back on all the times I’ve helped before landing on a memory where he was particularly miserable. “My brother played college football and was away for a game when his son got really sick. His mom is…well,…she’s less than stellar, and my brother asked me to go pick up my nephew and take care of him until he could catch a flight.”
“Were you working at the time? Going to school?”
“I was going to school,” I answer.
“So, what did you do?”
“I skipped class and held my nephew. He had the flu and a double ear
infection. I had to take him to the doctor. Pick up his prescription. Clean up a lot of puke. And just…hold him.”
“That sounds really hard,” Dr. Lorringer comments. “Were you upset at your brother?”
I shake my head. “No, of course not. I was a little peeved at his ex since she’s a terrible mom, but I was happy to help my nephew and brother out. Honestly, I would’ve been angry if he hadn’t called and asked me to help. I think that was one of the most memorable moments I’ve ever had with my nephew.”
“It’s interesting how that works, isn’t it? When we’re sacrificing for someone without any resentment, that’s often when we feel closest to them.” Turning to the audience, she expounds, “Relationships are hard work, people, but they’re also the most rewarding connections we can have. Gage, have you ever had anyone look after you in a way that’s similar to what Nora just described?”
He shakes his head. “Not since I was a little kid, no.”
“And does it still sound so terrible?”
There’s a heavy pause as he looks down at me. Studying me. Searching for something. The intensity that’s rolling off him makes me want to cry. For him. For me. For everything we say we don’t want, but we really do.
“No, it doesn’t,” he admits. “But what you just described isn’t always the norm, either. Nora just gave the perfect example. The kid has a shitty mom. Shouldn’t she love her sick baby more than anyone? But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Maybe that’s not her fault. Maybe it’s just…the way that it is for her.”
“So, you think that not everyone is capable of love?”
He clears his throat before running his hand down his face. “Yeah. Maybe they wish they were capable of it. Maybe they even tried it before they realized how selfish they were.”