by Romi Hart
Too bad Lena just wasn’t his type. And that he feared he’d do something ridiculous, like call Regan’s name in the middle of a release.
“Here you are, Mr. Logan,” she said, pushing open the door to the same therapy room and going through the same routine of preparing the sheet on the table. Handing him another sheet, she let her eyes wander down in a much more obvious manner this time. “You know the rules now. We touch. You don’t.”
He shook his head with a smile of exasperation. She was relentless. He should have realized last time what kind of woman she was, but he’d been preoccupied, first with concern over how the massage would go and, after, with a need for more than a professional touch from Regan. She said no more, simply glancing back at him over her shoulder as she left the room with lust in her gaze and the way she puckered her lips.
Alone again, Corey took his time getting undressed, and he stood there, in his midnight blue silk boxers for several heartbeats, considering the merits of taking them off. But alarms went off in his head in rapid succession, reminding him that he wasn’t trying to seduce the woman who could, perhaps, fix his body. Assuring they were secure around his waist, he rang the bell and took a seat, throwing the sheet haphazardly over his lap.
This time, there was no wait. The second he was seated, the door opened, and Regan smiled at him. “Welcome back, Corey,” she greeted, rubbing on the hand sanitizer. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve had better days,” he told her honestly. “Thanks for the head’s up on the inflammation. I’ve been taking pills for it.”
“Good. It shouldn’t be quite as bad this time, since your body will expect it more readily. Come in on a regular basis, and you won’t experience much at all as your muscles grow accustomed to being wielded like this.”
“As if I need extra incentive to come back,” he teased before he even realized what he was saying. She blinked at him, as if she was shocked that he would say anything flirtatious, and he couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t exactly been chatty last time. Clearing his throat, he tried to change the subject. “I’ve been looser and slept better, so I’ve got more faith in this than I did the first time around.”
“That tends to happen,” she conceded. “Alright, we’re going to take this a little deeper than we did last time, now that I’ve cleared the way and loosened you around the edges.”
“Isn’t that usually the guy’s line?” The words slipped out unbidden, and Corey winced. What the hell was wrong with him. He opened his mouth to apologize, but he noted the way Regan’s lips parted, her chest heaved a little faster with quickened breath, and her pupils swallowed some of the gorgeous violet of her eyes. Yes, she felt it, too. That was great. The last thing he needed was her encouragement.
Suddenly giving him a mischievous smile, she shrugged. “I find that adhering to society’s idea of gender roles just squashes out the ability to be creative and open.” Clapping her hands, she told him, “Okay, while we’re on that subject, why don’t you…assume the position?”
His cock certainly took the hint, which made it insanely difficult to lay flat on his belly. But he managed, grinding his teeth. He calmed his physical reaction with a memory – his grandmother, waking up in the morning when he’d stayed the night and walking around in her underwear, her chest hanging like flaps to her navel and her teeth still in the jar at her bedside. It did the trick, and he relaxed just in time for Regan’s hands to smooth over his shoulders.
Just her touch worked wonders for him, but as she dug into his muscles and tendons, he could feel the knots untangling, the parts of his body beginning the long, hard road to reparation. He closed his eyes, but that only led to thoughts of her hands working similar magic on his cock, and he felt the arousal growing beneath him.
He bit his own tongue, causing enough pain to calm the reaction, and the fact that Regan’s elbow hit a giant tender spot helped curb the desire. He hissed out a breath of pain, and then suddenly, everything in his shoulders relaxed, taking it all the way through his body so that even his legs loosened. He groaned as her fingers dug into his neck, not with agony but relief, and he heard Regan chuckle.
“I guess I found one epicenter,” she cooed, her voice smooth and soft as the music in the background, almost lilting.
“I’d say so,” he grunted, reveling in the feel of her hands smoothing out the wrinkles of his inner aging. That’s exactly what it felt like, and for the first time since he’d walked through the door four days ago, he began to understand the purpose of a massage.
And why he’d have to come back.
He couldn’t offer anyone a relationship. He didn’t have time or drive. But he felt like he needed Regan in his life, as if she was the one and only thing that could satisfy that underlying craving for attention, and the only person who could make his body cooperate despite his long hours and rough lifestyle. A regular massage, as long as he was in town, would be perfect for him. He’d get the magic hands and the hour long fantasy that he would never fulfill.
“Does your boyfriend get the benefit of your magic hands?” he asked, wondering what difference it made and why he would ask. Maybe he still needed to tame his hard on, reminding himself she was off limits.
She hesitated in her motions almost imperceptibly before continuing, and that was enough to let Corey know he’d struck some kind of cord with her. “Well, when I had a boyfriend, he wasn’t very deserving, and by the time I got home from work, my hands were trashed anyway. But for the right guy? I’m sure I could muster up a little magic to make him feel good at the end of the day.”
She seemed to choose her words carefully, and for all that he knew she took her job seriously, he had to think she was making a pass at him. Or at least expressing some sort of interest. It was nice to know that, even at his worst, he was still desirable, especially thinking that he might appeal to someone of a higher class in society. He was so used to being judged that it was dangerously close to boosting his ego to even wonder if Regan found him attractive.
It sort of made him want to be that guy, the one she came home to and saved some magic for.
“Well, that would be one lucky man,” he sighed, knowing he sounded pathetic, longing in his voice. In another life, he could have seen settling down with a wife and kids, a couple of dogs and a white fence. But he’d chosen his path, or rather, had it chosen for him. His father, Michael Logan, had been president of the Devil’s Flames for thirty years, since Corey had first started walking, and he’d been groomed to take over his father’s role. There were a few people who didn’t like the idea of a hierarchy, who thought someone else should take over, and they had a point. Plenty of guys had more experience.
But there was also a cry for ‘new blood’ and a ‘dynasty’. So many people felt Corey had a birthright and had lived up to expectations thus far. The election process had been unanimous in the end, and Corey’s future had laid in front of him, a long open road with two wheels and a motor between him and the pavement, surrounded by surrogate family in the same cut he wore.
The timer sounded, and to Corey’s surprise, he realized he’d drifted slightly. Not quite fallen asleep, but he’d gone into a space more like a daydream, memories floating through his head. “Alright, that’s it for today,” Regan called out, her voice cheerful but with something else underlying, almost sounding like disappointment. Had she been enjoying herself? That was an interesting thought.
Sitting up, he stretched and took a deep breath. It was incredible how good that felt, with none of his muscles screaming at him and his joints feeling limber. “You’re a miracle worker. I’m going to get on the schedule on a regular basis.”
She beamed at him. “Excellent. It’s going to make a huge difference for you. Try to land twice a week. I don’t know if the tenderness you’ll have for a while can stand much more at the moment.”
“Sure thing,” he replied, reaching for his clothes. But twice a week didn’t sound like much, and a part of him craved more. He didn’t have a lot of association
outside the club. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time he’d done anything that didn’t involve his brothers or their women. And something inside he couldn’t identify clenched at that thought. He stared at Regan’s back while she cleaned her hands, and a foreign voice escaped his mouth. “You think you might like to have coffee later?”
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Who the hell was he to ask his massage therapist out? Even if it was just coffee, it was everything he’d promised to avoid. He didn’t have hang ups about women, ever, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be friendly, did it? At the same time, as his eyes ran down the rigid spine and shapely legs of the woman before him, Corey knew this wasn’t about being friendly. For the first time in years, he had to admit his full on attraction to someone.
And that was terrifying.
It was so profound, he’d asked the woman out. He didn’t date, never had, and he hadn’t even taken a woman to bed in what felt like forever. So, why now? Why this woman? Especially when things were coming to a head at the club, and he needed to focus so carefully on the future of his crew.
She turned to face him, and Corey felt a bit of relief. She was going to say no. The expression she wore was conflicted, and that meant she was going to give him a line about not dating a client. Of course, then, it would be awkward to come back, and he wasn’t sure he would trust anyone else with his physical well being. Sure, he’d only seen her twice, but she’d proven herself to him, and he didn’t want to start over with someone else.
The corners of her mouth tilted upward, and she nodded, surprising him. “I think I’d like that. I have one more appointment today, so I’ll be done in about an hour and a half. Can you meet me back here?”
Corey’s jaw went slack, but he recovered his expression quickly, determined not to show any disbelief. Not only had she accepted, she wanted to do it today. Suddenly, he wanted to find an excuse to put it off. Maybe he could dress a little nicer or something if he had some time to think about it. Or maybe, he could cancel entirely. But if he did that now, it would look like he was retracting the offer, and that wouldn’t look good.
“Sure, I can do that.” He shrugged into his cut, feeling a little less than confident in that moment. What exactly had just transpired? It was a bit of a blur, and he had lost track of the events. But apparently, he was going to have a coffee date with Regan the massage therapist, the one woman who had made his cock twitch in the last eon, in a little over an hour. “I’ll see you then.”
Without another word, fearing he’s somehow fuck it all up, Corey exited the room and headed to the front desk and Lena, who still seemed to ogle him openly. “Let me get on the regular schedule for twice a week,” he told her, ignoring her assessments. His thoughts were elsewhere now, on the beautiful woman who had agreed to see him after work.
Damn, he thought. Talk about open mouth, insert foot! And even worse, he couldn’t let this mini-date go bad. If it didn’t go well, he’d end up without a woman, without a massage therapist, and without a single ounce of pride because of his lack of willpower. He had to be cautious, or he would end up worse off than he started.
Expectations. Regan had made it clear he needed to have the right expectations about massage therapy and how quickly – or rather, slowly – the healing process would work. He would just have to make it clear that there should be no expectations of furthering their companionship. They would have coffee, chat, have a nice time, and that was it, beyond the professional relationship they would share.
As he left the office and straddled Shawna, he shook his head. He was so good at controlling a pack of wolfish men and yet, he couldn’t seem to obey his own personal rules when they were tested. He had to do better, or he was going to end up in a very precarious position, teetering on a tightrope he didn’t want to walk, with no net to catch him should he fall.
He had a couple of hours to kill, but he didn’t want to head to the clubhouse. He might get caught up in business or, worse, end up talking about this little mini-date, something he absolutely refused to do. He wouldn’t be the center of gossip or teasing, and it wasn’t going to turn into anything, so he sure as hell didn’t need to fuel the fires of any thoughts otherwise. With so many of his crew settling down recently, he knew they’d push for him to open his mind to a relationship, and that was unacceptable.
But where the hell was he going? This area didn’t exactly cater to him and his bike. It was all about soccer moms, designer SUVs, and high end shopping and beauty. Deciding he’d maybe just ride around and blow off some steam, he pulled into a gas station to fill his tank, less than pleased to run into one of the boys. Carter was still a prospect, a kid who’d signed on just a few months ago, but he was serious about joining the Flames and greeted him with a smile. “Hey, boss, what’s going on today?”
Corey grunted. “Just got out of a massage therapy session. My neck’s been bothering me, and there’s a lot of magic in that treatment process.”
Growing solemn, Carter nodded. “When my mom had her car accident, everything seemed alright, but she ended up in a lot of pain, and no one could figure it out. They put her on all sorts of pain meds, but nothing really helped. Eventually, she tried some alternative therapies – massage and acupuncture. Within weeks, she was a new woman. Power to you for checking it out. Hope it helps.” He mounted his bike, an old, slow beast that he’d been working on in the garage with Rafe for a few weeks, and saluted.
Corey returned the gesture before turning to the pump, glad the kid was relatable. From what he’d seen and heard, Carter was usually pretty quiet and solemn, and while Corey understood having a good time and letting loose, he preferred that members of his crew have that ability to focus and remain serious. This was the most he’d heard out of Carter’s mouth at one time, but he really liked the kid and would keep an eye on him.
Fueled and ready, Corey kicked Shawna into gear and took off, hoping that some time on the road where the curves wound around and took you out to the middle of nowhere would ease his mind about going out with Regan and what the hell was going on in his head right now.
4
Regan wondered who was more surprised by her easy acceptance and quick turnaround – Corey or herself. On the one hand, she loved a little danger, and it had been a long time since she’d sought it out. A quick coffee with Corey, who didn’t seem like the kind to latch on or allow her to cling, seemed like a perfect balance. A little trouble to get into with a single opportunity that wouldn’t spill over into something serious and overwhelming.
On the other hand, Corey looked like he couldn’t believe he’d even asked, much less that she’d accepted the offer and upped the stakes by telling him she wanted to see him today. And that unnerved her a little. Corey was obviously impulsive in some ways, despite what was definitely careful control and a very confident demeanor. There was vulnerability there, and she wondered if he felt he’d made a mistake. Did the MC have rules, like he had to clear a woman before he could go out with her?
Or was it something more personal, like having sworn off women because he’d been hurt? That would explain a lot, but she didn’t see the trauma there. Not that she should psychoanalyze anyone under the circumstances. She’d sworn off relationships, when really, she should have stepped away from her spontaneous reactions instead. Look where the last one had landed her.
Maybe her own surprise stemmed from her eagerness, and the fact that she hadn’t been out with a man in so very long. Or maybe, it was simply that she was so intensely attracted to Corey. He stood for everything she’d thought she didn’t want once she’d graduated high school. Then again, when she’d tried straight laced, that hadn’t gone so well, either. Perhaps it was that she had already counted him out as a possibility for scratching that itch, since he’d all but ignored her last time he’d come in.
But as she greeted her next client and went to work, Regan told herself it didn’t matter. Her decision had been made, and she was all in. She looked forward to hav
ing coffee with Corey, if for no other reason, then because she was intrigued by him. There was something under that steel horse cowboy exterior, and she wanted to dig down and find just the tiniest bit of truth.
By the time she’d finished for the day, she thanked her need for preparation, reaching into her locker and pulling out a set of clean clothes. A ruffled tank top and a pair of tight, worn jeans should suffice. She also had a pair of low heeled sandals that would compliment the outfit far more than the ugly orthopedic shoes she wore all day while she was on her feet.
The makeup bag in her purse came in handy, too, as she touched up her face just a little. She carried the makeup but rarely bothered to refresh her look, since she usually went straight home, with the occasional stop at the supermarket or gas station. Or a drive thru, even rarer. Overall, she liked the image in the mirror and grabbed her purse, ready to go.
Until she walked out and found Corey waiting for her.
He leaned against the wall, his head down, one knee bent, and he literally looked like the cover of some romance novel, his cut trimmed to fit him just so rather than hanging loose, and his jeans hugging everything from his hips to his calves, just before stretching around his motorcycle boots. The term, sex personified, came to mind, and Regan sucked in a harsh breath to calm her heart. Pasting a smile on her face, she strode toward him, raking up all the confidence she could muster. “So, you did show.”
His brows rose as his head came up. “You expected otherwise?”
Regan shrugged, not sure how to answer. She didn’t want to insult him, but she’d wondered. “Not to be offensive, but I don’t really know you very well, and you seem like someone who flies by the seat of his pants. I had no idea if you were a flake or what.”
He shook his head, dead serious now. “For the record, I can be a total dick, but if I commit to something, I always follow through. If something had come up to stop me, I would have called and left a message, but otherwise, I said I wanted to have coffee with you, and I had no intention of blowing that off.”