by Skye Jordan
“Why do you always assume I’m up to no good?”
“Because where you go, shenanigans generally follow.” That’s not really true, but I’ve been teasing her about stepping outside the law since we met in the grocery store with her taste-testing the fruit.
I’m now getting an up-close and personal look at her in that delicious yoga garb and that killer body beneath. Her skin is slick and glowing, her eyes sparkling in the low light. Nothing makes me hungrier than seeing this stunning creature sweat.
She tsks. “And here I was trying to do you a favor. Trish had to go out of town—her father’s in the hospital—and I know how desperately you need your bodywork, so I kept you on the schedule. And this is the thanks I get?”
“Baby, if you want to get your hands on me, all you have to do is bat those pretty eyelashes my way.”
She drops one hand to her hip and uses the other to nudge the sheet a little lower on my right side, brows raised and a devilish little grin tilting her mouth. “I have been hearing about this scar you have… Seems half the women in town know it intimately.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” I say, wondering where she heard about the scar. One that resulted from a fucker high on meth with a knife. While I’ve hooked up with a few women in town, I’ve really just been waiting—and hoping and praying—for Chloe to pull me out of the friend zone. “You pull that sheet down much farther and you’re going to get more than you bargained for. If that’s what you’re going for, I’m all in, beautiful.”
She actually looks like she’s thinking about it, and that only pumps more adrenaline to places that should really calm down, because I know Chloe Hart. Not only isn’t she going to hop on this table and rock my world, she won’t even kiss me. Hell, she won’t even go to dinner with me—at least not on a date.
“Tempting for sure.” She returns the sheet to the small of my back and sighs. “But you’re right about getting more than I bargained for. Move up and put your head in the brace.”
Damn. The sexual energy between us evaporates. “I hate that thing.”
“Do you want the best work over you can get or not?”
“I’d kill to have you work me over, girl, but we’re talking about parallel universes.”
She smirks and taps the oval brace at the top of the table.
I use my elbows to crawl a foot forward, then try to find a comfortable position. As soon as I feel her hands on me again, all thoughts of discomfort vanish. Except for the one between my legs. That’s just getting worse.
The heel of her hand makes its way down the other side of my spine. Relief flows in its wake, and I groan.
“Now what’s this story about Misty?” she asks, using the name Jed Bixby gave his pet dairy cow. “You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing a lady like that.”
“She wasn’t acting like much of a lady yesterday. She was grazing on a patch of grass growing through the asphalt in the middle of Old County Road. She’s got an entire pasture of beautiful green grass, and she has to go find a tiny little patch in the road? As logical as any woman, I suppose.”
Chloe laughs. “You really ought to weigh your comments, Officer Wilde. At the moment, you’re at my mercy.”
“In my dreams. Very, very vivid dreams by the way.”
“Back to Misty.”
“She didn’t like me pulling on her halter to get her moving. She threw her head back and took me with it, tossing me to the other side of the median. Came this close”—I lift my hand and create an inch between thumb and forefinger—“to becoming a hood ornament on Buck Taylor’s Silverado.”
“That’s what you get for rushing a female.”
She eases her elbow into my trapezius, and I grit my teeth against the pain. “Jesus freaking Christ—”
“Yep, you’re jacked, all right. But you still would have looked pretty as Buck’s hood ornament.”
“Pretty?”
“You’re pretty, and you know it.”
I stop trying to keep up a conversation, because the things she does to me are enough to make me cry like a girl. My eyes are watering by the time she works the last stitch of pain from my right side.
Before moving onto the other side of my body, she gives me a break by working on my neck. It feels so good, it’s a miracle I’m not drooling on the floor.
“Jesus,” I moan. “Not to dis Trish or anything, but I’ve never felt anything like your hands on me.”
“Bet you say that to all the girls.”
“I don’t. Ask around.”
“I don’t have to ask around. Everyone is plenty happy to talk about you all on their own. Somehow, our friendship seems to be an open invitation for every woman interested in you to start up a conversation with me. Like I’ve got insider information or something.”
She adds pressure to a knot at the base of my neck, and I see stars.
“God,” I groan. “Who knew such small hands could create so much pain?”
“What’s that saying men like to use? It’s not the size, it’s how you use it that counts?”
I break out laughing, and I can’t stop. I laugh so hard, I cry. I have to sit up to catch my breath. When the laughter ebbs, I find myself on the edge of the table, the sheet barely covering my very happy junk. Chloe’s sagging against the wall from her own hilarious laughter.
And when we both sober up, there’s no missing the heat expanding inside this room. Chloe’s gaze slips from my face, to my chest, my torso, my barely covered crotch, my bare thighs. I swear the room is swimming with explosive combustion. All we need is a spark, and we’d explode into sexual bliss.
I’m ready to add that spark the second she gives me a sign she’s interested. My muscles coil to act, and I can’t deny the way my mind slides a little sideways at the possibility of getting Chloe Hart into my arms.
Then her gaze drops to the floor, and she straightens and points at the table. “Assume the position, Office Wilde.”
Damn. Damn, damn, damn. So close.
I feel like we’ve been inching closer for a freaking year. But she won’t ever cross that line. I’m as alpha as the next guy, and I’m happy to take an aggressive role once I’m in bed with a woman, but I’m not the type to push her there.
Besides, when I get Chloe Hart into my bed, I want her to want to be there.
2
Chloe
For a woman on a self-imposed celibacy stint, volunteering to give Xavier Wilde his regular massage was not the best idea I’ve ever had.
When I started calling to cancel Trish’s appointments, I saw Xavier’s name on the list, and I know how badly he needs his massages. It seemed effortless to step in for Trish to benefit Xavier. We’re friends, after all. Great friends. Close friends. We’d probably be best friends if those slots weren’t already taken by Laiyla and KT. And, then, of course, there’s this steam between us. That sort of kicks us into a whole different category, one where we’re in a constant state of push and pull. And then there are the barriers I’ve constructed to keep him on the other side of the friendship line. Best friends don’t have barriers.
But after seeing his body up close and naked, every cell in my celibate body is banging against its cage bars, rattling me. I can’t remember the last time I felt this burning, overwhelming lust for a man. I don’t know if it’s his obvious good looks, his sense of humor, his self-confidence, our friendship, the rumors about his talents in bed, or all of the above, but whatever the reason, my attraction to him just keeps getting stronger—a sure sign that my internal ability to choose a trustworthy man is still on the fritz.
Out of everyone in town I could be involved with, the last thing I want in my life is another player. I need a man I can trust, and, don’t get me wrong, Xavier is an amazing guy in many ways, but he’s also driven by his libido.
I’ve managed transformational change since I walked away from Bodhi, but I’m nowhere near ready to end the safety net of my self-induced celibacy.
When he’s back on th
e table, the sheet barely covering his ass, I try to shake the sexual energy and act…normal. Like he doesn’t affect me the way he does every other woman in town. But day-um, the guy is built. A stunning creation of smooth skin and rolling muscle.
I dig into the tension on his left side, sinking my elbow into the trapezius muscle at his shoulder and sliding it all the way to his lower back. He groans, long and deep, and the sound zings heat through my blood.
“With all the weight you carry,” I say, “and the things you put your body through, you’d need a two-hour massage every day to really take care of yourself.”
“You’re hired.”
“Sorry, I’m barely managing all the jobs I already have.”
“Yeah, about that,” he says. “Sadie says you’re an entrepreneurial genius.”
I laugh. “I’m not a genius anything, but I love her for saying that.”
“You have to be the humblest person I’ve ever met.”
That brings a genuine smile and warmth to my heart. “Thank you. I’ve been working hard to quiet my ego so I can hear my heart.”
“You’re talking Greek again,” he says, his voice lazy as the tension leaves his body. “You’d think I would have picked up on some of it by now.”
“You’re more literate than you think.”
“Sadie said something about your memberships. Is that the monthly fee for classes at the studio?”
“I’m not sure which membership she’s talking about. I have several.”
“Tell me about them.”
I move my hand around the ball of his hard shoulder, using my fingers and knuckles to loosen the tension. It’s a real pleasure to work on someone whose muscles are so defined, I can see them outlined beneath the skin. He’s a perfect anatomical model. “Here at the studio, I have my Moksha Membership, my Prana Posse, and my Siddha Squad.”
He chuckles. “I don’t know what those mean, but they’re catchy.”
“That’s sort of what I’m all about, you know? Put the lofty theory of spirituality and self-actualization into terms the average person can understand. The different groups pay different prices based on how often they come to the studio. Online, I’ve got my Spirit Junkies. They’re people who want to bring the spiritual concepts in their everyday life to find meaning, ease mental health issues, and dig deeper into life.”
I move my knuckles down his biceps and forearm. “Where the studio is more about yoga and meditation, the website is about spiritual theory and practice. And about three months ago, I formed my Wanderlust Warriors. Warriors get unlimited access to the studio, my podcasts, books, blog, meditation recordings, retreats, courses…everything I’ve got.”
“How did I not know all this?”
“You know most of it. I probably just never spelled it out quite like this.”
“I know you’re always working. I just thought you were writing.”
“Oh, no. I get my words in first thing, then do everything else.”
“Sadie is right,” he says with a touch of wonder in his voice, “you are an entrepreneurial genius.”
“Some say subscription-based products are the current gold mine, but I love that business model because it allows people to dip a toe in to see what it’s all about and whether or not it’s for them. And if they know what they want, it allows them to jump into the deep end headfirst. There’s a price point for everyone without a huge commitment, which gives more people access, and however I’m able to share what I’ve learned is a win in my opinion.”
I grip his forearm and lean away to stretch his arm and shoulder. “Thank you for lunch, by the way.”
“It’s a Green Goddess sandwich and something to drink that starts with a K and sounds disgusting.”
“Kombucha.”
“After all the time we’ve known each other, there’s still so much to learn about you.”
“I feel the same way about myself most days.”
He lifts his head, turns toward me, and rests his cheek on the side of the cradle. Having those heavy-lidded smoky hazel eyes on me raises my body temperature. This is how he would look at me if he were lying next to me in bed. The idea warms me all over. I miss having a man in my life. Someone to sleep with, talk to, cook for.
“How’s Piper?” I ask, hoping to distract myself from all I’m feeling inside and out.
“She texted a bit ago. Said she’s dying of boredom in calculus.”
“Still struggling?”
“Yeah. Hasn’t found a place she fits in yet.”
“Any news on your transfer?”
“I haven’t put it in. I’m waiting to see how Piper fares over the summer.” His eyes open, and a hot grin shoots my way. “That gives you months to succumb to my devilish charm.”
“Don’t hold your breath. How’s Karen?”
I don’t know Piper’s mother well. I’ve only met her in passing a few times. She’s pretty, and Piper got her looks.
“Still distracting herself with work and men.” Censure rings in his tone.
“It takes time to heal. I’m sure she’s lonely. She has to miss Piper’s dad, and raising a kid on her own can’t be easy.”
“I love that about you, always giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. I lost that ability a long time ago.”
“Why wouldn’t you give her the benefit of the doubt?”
He doesn’t answer right away, and I let him think in silence as I move around the table and work his other arm.
“A couple of months after Keith died,” he says, “I found out that Karen had been cheating on him.”
My hands slow. “Really?”
“Really.”
I finish working his forearm and slide my fingers between his to work out the tension in his hand. “I’m surprised this is the first time I’m hearing about that.”
Xavier is good at hiding his feelings. He puts on a strong playboy front, fun-loving, easygoing, loose, but I know there’s a lot more to him. With his friends, he’s fiercely loyal, intensely protective, and wildly generous. With me, he’s open and warm, and we often talk for hours at a time, so, yeah, I’m surprised he didn’t tell me something so obviously troubling to him.
“It annoys the piss out of me,” he says, anger leaking into his voice, “and when I talk about it, I just…”
“Get a little batshit. I understand.”
“And since she’s moved here, she’s been dating like she’s twenty again. Like she doesn’t have a fifteen-year-old daughter learning from her behavior. The worst part is that she’s always lying about it. I didn’t figure it out until months after I moved. Here I am, busting my ass—mowing the lawn, picking up Piper from school, putting groceries in their empty fridge—all while she was out there fucking some guy who doesn’t do shit for her.”
“Oh, man.” I know the feeling of being used all too well. I know without a doubt, Xavier has never had a thing for Karen, so the way Bodhi used me and the way Karen uses Xavier aren’t the same, but I can totally empathize. “I knew Karen wasn’t around much, but I thought it was because of work. Is she still a mortgage broker?”
“Yes, and it is because of work, at least partially. But she could be spending her time very differently and she’s choosing not to.”
“It’s almost like she’s cheating on you too,” I muse aloud. “Not romantically, but taking advantage of your kindness.”
“Exactly. And Piper doesn’t have her father to fall back on anymore. She’s angry at her mother for dating, hurt over losing her father, and she knows how to find trouble. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Thankfully, Piper has you." Xavier is Piper's godfather, but is considered an honorary uncle. "The way you changed your life for her is really amazing.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you down.”
“You didn’t.” I finish working the tension from his fingers and rest his arm at his side. “Turn over, and I’ll finish up your neck.”
“Wait, what? Trish works on me
for an hour.” He looks up at me with a familiar wicked grin. Just like that, the pissed Xavier vanishes and the playboy’s back. “And you haven’t gotten to my lower body. That’s the best part.”
He never fails to make me laugh. “Best part or not, my hands are not getting anywhere remotely near your lower body. I’m not Trish, and this is a favor.”
He sighs. “Fine, but can you just see what you can do about my right glute? It’s been killing me since Misty tossed me across the pavement.”
I laugh. “Good try, handsome. Flip for me.”
“Yeah,” he hesitates. “Unless this is one of those happy-ending massages, I’m not flipping.”
Which means he’s got a hard-on. Not unusual with male clients, but somehow knowing Xavier’s got one after I’ve had my hands on him is unnerving in the most tantalizing way. “Then you’re done.”
He drops his head against the cradle. “Damn.”
I smile. “I’ll see you in the lobby.”
I’m already pulling the door open when he says, “You don’t have to leave while I change…”
I’m laughing when I pull the door closed, then I hang on to the handle for an extra second to make sure I’m steady and take a few steps backward until I can lean against the wall. I let my legs go out and slide into a crouch, hands covering my face, now damp with sweat. And it’s not from exertion. It’s from desire.
I know why so many women want him. I know why I want him. But I also know the pain of being played. Not only did I swear I’d never let that happen again, but I’m clearly not ready to take any kind of chance with my heart yet.
Forcing myself to my feet, I move behind the counter and pull up the scheduling software on the computer. Xavier comes out in his uniform pants, boots, and a white T-shirt, carrying his body armor and uniform shirt.
“When would you like to come in again?” I ask.
“How long is Trish gone?”
“About a week, I think.”
“Then schedule me every day for a week.”
My gaze pulls from the computer, and I find Xavier wearing one of his more devastating smiles. He drops his body armor over his head and secures the Velcro.