Any Way You Want It

by Farrah Rochon

  It wasn’t a guarantee that anything would happen between them. For all he knew, he could be in his truck in ten minutes, on his way back to Maplesville to take the longest cold shower of his life. But he needed to see her again. Even if only for a moment.

  “I just thought I’d check on you,” Dale said. “You know, after the busted pipe thing.”

  If there was a Big Book of Lame Excuses, that would have been the lamest excuse in it. He should have known she’d ask the question. Why in the hell hadn’t he thought of an answer during the half hour he’d spent sitting in her parking lot?

  Nyree’s grin broadened. “Maybe if I was the Wicked Witch of the West I’d have something to worry about, but a little water has never hurt me.” She stepped to the side. “Do you want to come in?”

  More than he wanted to see the sun rise tomorrow morning.

  “Um, sure,” Dale said. He stuffed his hands in his front pockets and entered the apartment.

  Cardboard moving boxes filled the majority of the space. They were stacked against the walls and on the sofa table.

  “I’m glad you came over,” she said, and Dale’s heart immediately started to gallop like a Triple Crown winner’s. “I’m making my first batch of moisturizer for men. I’d planned to bring you a jar tomorrow in hopes that you’d be willing to play guinea pig.”

  He followed her into the kitchen where tubs of creams and bottles of oils and gels cluttered the counter.

  Nyree scooped a heap of grayish cream from a mixing bowl and plopped it into a small glass bowl. “Try this. It has quince seed oil, witch hazel and just a touch of aloe. You can use it as a daily moisturizer or aftershave.”

  “So, what are you saying? That my regular drug store lotion isn’t cutting it?” Dale teased.

  She stuck two fingers in the cream and brought them to his cheek. “Your drug store lotion doesn’t feel this good.”

  Desire squeezed his chest in a vice grip. His skin burned where she touched him. “No, it doesn’t,” Dale said.

  Nyree licked her bottom lip, leaving a glistening trail of moisture that he would give anything to suck off that delectable mouth of hers. He leaned forward without even thinking about what he was doing.

  And then his stomach growled. Loud.

  As in loud enough for her entire apartment complex to hear.

  “Damn. Excuse me,” Dale said. Shit. He should just go home before he made a fool of himself. “I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

  “Neither have I,” Nyree said, taking a step back. “The quince oil was waiting for me when I got home. I was too excited about trying out my moisturizer formula to even think about food.” She opened a drawer, pulled out a menu, and shut the drawer closed with her hip. “You like Chinese?”

  A half-hour later, Dale sat on her sofa, which was actually more of a loveseat, eating his second plate of pan-fried noodles. Nyree sat next to him, with her legs folded underneath her, sipping red wine from a glass she’d taken from one of the boxes.

  Dale reached for the paper to-go container filled with steamed vegetables. “Are you sure you’re done with this?” he asked.

  “I’m full,” she said.

  “How? You hardly ate anything.”

  “I had a full plate,” she protested. “Just because it wasn’t piled as high as Mount Everest like yours doesn’t mean I didn’t eat hardly anything.” A teasing smile drew across her lips. “You know, I could make a comparison between you and my brothers, but I’d hate to ruin your dinner.”

  “Let me guess, they eat like a couple of former football players.”

  “Who now work construction,” Nyree said.

  Dale put his plate down. “Shit, I am more like Desmond and Lance than I thought.”

  “That’s okay,” she said with a laugh. “I told you, they’ve both mellowed out a lot. They’re a couple of pains in the butt sometimes, but they’re not all bad.”

  “I’m still not convinced,” he said.

  Once he’d scarfed down the remaining food, he stacked the empty boxes onto his empty plate and stood, but grimaced when he heard his knee crack.

  “Tell me, do Desmond and Lance have old football injuries that make them feel twice as old as they actually are?”

  “Your knee bothering you?” she asked, her voice tinted with concern.

  “My knee, my back, my shoulders. I can’t blame it all on football, though. Working construction takes a toll.”

  Without another word, she set her wineglass on the cardboard box next to the sofa and went over to a corner of the living room. She slid a slim rectangular carrying case from behind a fake ficus tree and unzipped it, revealing a folded table.

  “You just gave me the perfect excuse to test out another product I’ve been working on,” Nyree said. “My new line of massage oils.” She popped the table open, hooked a headrest onto it, and slapped on the dark blue cushion covering the table. “Climb aboard. I’m about to make you feel better than you’ve ever felt in your life.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “How does that feel?” Nyree whispered against his ear.

  Dale moaned, unable to come up with adequate words to describe how amazing it felt to have her hands working their magic on him. From the moment she’d touched his sore muscles he’d been catapulted into another realm, his own brand of heaven on earth.

  Up until now, his only massage experiences consisted of football trainers grinding the heel of their hands into his flesh. Just having his body prone on a cushioned massage table in Nyree’s living room, with lavender and sage candles burning, and soft music playing from her iPhone was enough for him. Add in her oil-slick fingers kneading his stiff back and shoulder muscles?

  Heaven. On. Earth.

  “I know what you’re trying to do, you know?” Dale said.

  “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

  “You’re trying to lull me into a state of relaxation so that I’ll let my guard down and you can take advantage of me.”

  Her deep chuckle reverberated along his skin. “And if I am?”

  “I don’t care,” Dale murmured. “As long as you don’t stop.”

  Another laugh. “I won’t,” she said. “And I promise this isn’t a nefarious plan to get into your pants. This is purely medicinal. It’s the least I can do after your quick action this afternoon with the busted pipe.”

  Dale didn’t want to kill the vibe, but they would eventually have to discuss what had happened earlier and what the busted pipe meant for her timeline. The odds of him completing the work on the house by the fourth of April had just taken a nosedive. Even if Nyree could afford to spend more, he didn’t see how he could finish the renovations in time for the grand opening.

  And now that he knew that opening date had to do with more than just commemorating her aunt’s birthday—but could very well cost her friends a ton in lost business—the pressure to get it done in time was even stronger.

  But Dale didn’t want to think about any of that. He just wanted to enjoy the moment. He folded his arms on the table and rested his cheek on his hands as she concentrated on his lower back, her thumbs pressing into his flesh.

  “So, how does a chemist who makes her own beauty products find the time to learn how to be a masseuse too?” Dale asked.

  “She begs her friend to teach her,” Nyree answered. She fanned her fingers out along his sides, moving from his lower back to his hips. “Cheyenne is the only licensed masseuse out of the four of us, but we all took the time to learn what the others do. If you had a set of clippers, I could trim up your hair, too.”

  Dale shook his head in astonishment. “You paint trim work like a pro, install insulation better than some of the guys I work with at Harding, give a killer massage and cut hair, too? I’m going to start calling you the Renaissance Woman,” he said. “There’s nothing you can’t do.”

  She huffed a humorless laugh. “Unfortunately, I can’t do plumbing,” she said.

  The dejection in her voice gutted him, but there was nothing he
could say to ease her worry. Hell, at this point, he was worried. He just couldn’t see them getting all the work done in time with this additional setback.

  But that wasn’t the only thing that had Dale worried. Being reminded of just how badass she was—how she was the ultimate over-achiever while the only thing he succeeded in was not living up to his potential—reminded him that Nyree was way out of his league.

  It also made him wonder once again just why, with all she had going for her, she would choose to have a washed up ex-football star turned construction worker—much like those brothers she always complained about—with her tonight. Was it because she wanted to get under Desmond’s and Lance’s skin? Was that what she saw when she looked at him? Dale couldn’t figure out any other reason.

  But he wasn’t going to try to come up with one.

  Enjoy the moment, he reminded himself.

  After all, he wasn’t sure how many more moments like this he would get with her.

  He released another satisfied moan as she used her elbows to knead his shoulder muscles.

  “You better tell your friend, Cheyenne, to watch out,” Dale said. “If you start giving massages, her business will be in trouble.”

  “Cheyenne isn’t worried about any of us stealing business away from her,” she said with a chuckle. “She has a ton of loyal clients who are eager for her to get back to business in this area.”

  “So, do your friends concoct their own hair and skincare products?” Dale asked.

  “Actually, that’s the one thing they didn’t want to learn. When I tried to teach them a few recipes, they said it felt like they were back in high school chemistry class. They didn’t pay attention back then, either.”

  “You all remind me of me and my two buddies, Sam and Ian. We’ve been tight since elementary school.”

  “The four of us have been friends since the seventh grade,” Nyree said. “Although we’ve had some epic fights over the years. The worst was when Reesa came to the homecoming dance our junior year wearing the same dress I was wearing, even though she was at the mall when I bought mine.”

  Dale gasped with exaggerated shock. “She didn’t!”

  Nyree burst out laughing as she continued to knead his spine. God, but her fingers felt good. She ran the heels of her hands up his back, to his shoulder, then brought them down his arms. When she repeated the move, her breasts brushed against his back, and Dale immediately felt himself growing hard—not the most comfortable state to be in while lying facedown on a massage table.

  At that point it didn’t even make sense to fight his body’s reaction to her. He’d been semi-aroused since the moment she turned around in that flooded bathroom with her thin pink T-shirt clinging to her wet body. Just thinking about the way the fabric molded to her small breasts made his mouth water.

  “For a minute today, I thought Reesa and I would have another of those epic fights,” Nyree said, knocking his one-track mind back into the present.

  Not that it helped the situation growing below his waist.

  “Do you…uh…” Dale shifted slightly on the table. “Do you think everything will be okay between you two?”

  “It will be,” she said as her fingers dug into the rigid muscles at the base of his neck. “As long as the house is ready in time. Don’t say anything,” she quickly added. “I know how hopeless it is at this point.”

  “It’s not hopeless.”

  “You’re going to suggest Desmond and Lance again, aren’t you? I still consider them a last resort.”

  “You really should have given me the whole story behind your timetable,” Dale said.

  “Would it have changed anything about the way you’ve tackled the renovation up to this point?”

  Dale shrugged his uber-relaxed shoulders. “I could have put in a few more hours earlier into the project?”

  “You already work more hours than you should.” Her fingers paused in the middle of her rubdown. “I still don’t understand how you can put so much effort into this project when my own flesh and blood refuse to take it seriously.”

  “Easy,” he said. “It’s because you’re working hard to see your dream come true and I don’t want to see anything get in the way of that.”

  “Even though you’ve only known me a little over a month?” she asked, resuming the massage.

  “It’s the quality of the time I’ve known you, not quantity,” Dale countered. He looked up at her over his shoulder. “I’m serious, Nyree. I’m amazed at how kickass you are. Some people are too afraid to even admit what they really want to do with their lives. You haven’t only admitted it, but you’re doing all you can to make it happen. You deserve to see your dream come true.”

  Her eyes softened and her lips tilted up in a shy smile. “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re not perfect, though.” He resumed his prone position on the table and settled his face in the face cradle.

  The kneading stopped again. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re not perfect,” he repeated, raising his head from the cradle. “No one is. So what if the house isn’t ready when you said it would be ready? I know your friends have a lot riding on this, but it’s not the end of the world if you open a few weeks later than planned.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said. “It could ruin Reesa, Cheyenne and Amara’s businesses.”

  “If there’s so much at stake for them, why haven’t I seen them at the house sooner? You’ve been busting your ass right alongside me for weeks. Why haven’t your friends come by to help?”

  “Because—” She started, but then she stopped.

  “Because?” Dale prompted.

  “Because I told them I’d get it done,” Nyree said. “It’s what I do. I’m the one who gets things done.”

  “Stop putting all that pressure on yourself, Nyree. You all have a stake in this business. You shouldn’t have to take on everything alone. That’s too much stress for anyone to deal with, no matter how kickass you are.”

  When she didn’t respond, Dale looked over his shoulder again. He found her staring at him with a look of such vulnerability it caused him to turn and sit up on the massage table.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, fitting his hand against her cheek. He ran his thumb back and forth over her cheekbone in a soft caress.

  She leaned more heavily into his palm and closed her eyes. “You’re right,” she said. “That’s exactly what I’ve been doing.”

  When she looked up at him, her eyes shone with unshed tears. Alarm burst within his chest.

  “Shit, Nyree. How much pressure have you been putting on yourself?”

  She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m the one who came up with the idea to combine the businesses, so it’s up to me to make sure it all goes off without a hitch.”

  “Who says it’s all up to you? It’s your friends’ spa too.”

  “Yeah, but I’m the one who bought the house.”

  “Which means you’re taking a bigger financial risk than all of them. Even if they lose a few weeks’ worth of appointments, they can recoup that in no time. You took on a mortgage so that your friends could have a place to run their businesses. And you don’t think they should have just as much responsibility in making sure it all comes together? Are you kidding me, Nyree?”

  “I know, I know,” she said. “I’m just so used to taking the lead on everything.”

  Dale huffed out a laugh. “So I’ve noticed,” he said. “You didn’t hesitate to make the first move with me either.”

  “Too bad you’re too stubborn to give into me,” she murmured.

  She turned her head and kissed the center of his palm, and Dale’s groin immediately pulled in the most erotically sensual way. The bolt of attraction that had flashed between them from the very first moment he met her exploded.

  “Maybe you should try again,” he said.

  The barrier of the sheet she’d pulled over him, along with his boxer briefs, were no match for the erection that had sp
rung up in his lap. His body was primed and ready, had been anticipating it for weeks.

  He was ready to make things between them something more, something real.

  He was ready to make her his.

  “Come here,” Dale said, his voice hoarse with want.

  Nyree stepped into the place he’d made for her between his spread legs and wrapped her arms around him. She ran her hands up his back, her oil-slick palms gliding across his skin. He stepped down from the massage table and pulled at the hem of her T-shirt, his lips moving from hers just long enough to pull the fabric from over her head.

  Dale considered himself pretty good at foreplay, but he didn’t give a shit about foreplay at that moment. He’d been waiting for this to happen for weeks. Foreplay would have to wait for another day.

  He unbuckled her shorts and pulled them down her shapely legs, pressing a kiss to her right hip as he made his way down. After she kicked the shorts away, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the massage table. She braced her hands on either side of her, her legs falling open.

  Dale took a moment to just stare at her. She looked amazing in her matching bra and panties. Simple cotton, just as he’d observed underneath her wet t-shirt earlier in the day, but these were blue instead of white. The pale blue fabric looked glorious against her light brown skin.

  He slid his palms up her inner thighs, spanning his fingers over her flesh. Then he returned to her mouth, dipping his tongue in and out, loving the taste and texture and heat he found inside.

  But her mouth wasn’t the only thing he wanted to kiss. And now that he had her in position, he was ready to do every wicked thing he’d fantasized about doing to her over the past few weeks.

  With one last deep kiss, Dale tore his mouth from hers and dropped to his knees.

  “What…what are you doing?” she asked. Her voice sounded breathless.

  He looked up at her from his position on the floor, his eyes intense. “You have to ask?”

  He hooked his fingers on the sides of her panties and tugged, urging her to lift up so he could pull them over her hips and down her legs. He grabbed hold of her calves and brought her legs over his shoulders, drawing her closer until she was at the edge of the massage table.