Summer Love_ A Steamy Small Town Romance Anthology - Piper Rayne Page 0,160

to find out.

He looked as stunned as she felt, then a slow grin spread across his face. “Hello, Sierra. This is an unexpected surprise.”

Chapter Five

This was a completely unexpected development and Colt wondered, for a wild and crazy moment, if his sister was playing matchmaker. She knew damn well he had spent most of Saturday night with Sierra. Would she deceive both of them like this? The answer was a swift hell yes. And he was glad she’d forced the issue. Judging by the faintly horrified look on Sierra’s face, she didn’t feel the same and that tweaked his pride.

Wincing a little at the pain in his back, he swung himself up to a sitting position, letting the sheet barely cover his junk. Her eyes immediately trailed down his bare chest, appreciation replacing the horror. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t so bad. He could play this. He wasn’t the bad boy of country music for nothing.

“Look, I’m sorry if this caught you off guard and if you feel uncomfortable. If there is someone else I could see, that would be fine. My back is killing me.” He twisted his face up in pain. It wasn’t a total lie, just a slight exaggeration to play on her sympathies.

And it worked. Her professionalism and need to help him overcame her reticence. “Of course not. This will be fine. Besides, Mondays are slow and so I don’t have any other staff on, so I’m kind of it. Please lie down.”

Her eyes kept straying to his chest and he smirked, then groaned in true discomfort as he tried to settle back on the table. She hurried to help him get comfortable. “You really did a good job on your back, didn’t you?”

“I swear Chase trained that horse to throw me intentionally, as a hazing or something,” he grumbled, the touch of her hand already inflaming his senses.

He put his face in the hole in the table and she pulled the sheet away. Soft, instrumental music began playing, the kind he really hated. Other people probably found it relaxing, though. Her hands returned after a moment and she glided them over his body, the oil making them slick and warm. Damn, this was going to be an uncomfortable massage. She ran her hands firmly over his back, and he groaned, his mind immediately turning to her bedroom and visions of them in a very different position, her hands touching him in a lot more personal way.

“Is this hurting you?” she asked quietly.

Not in the way you’re thinking. He had to get a handle on his reactions. “Not really. Everything is just sore.” Which was the truth.

“I can see that. You really did a number on your back. At least there isn’t any bruising, so it’s just soft tissue spasm. You may need more than one session.”

Damn, she was going to kill him. The sweet almond scent of the oil teased his senses and now he would forever associate it with Sierra. Her fingers began to dig in harder, finding knots, and this time he moaned for real. She paused.

“Don’t stop. It hurts, but I need it.” Yeah, he liked being tortured.

She worked on him for a few more minutes and he tried to focus on her hands. That was a bad idea, so he turned his attention to the music. God, it grated on his nerves. He’d had massages before. None had ever turned him on quite so much and his dick was pushing against the table, creating a whole new kind of pain that rivaled his back.

She cleared her throat. “I never thanked you for what you did Saturday night.”

“You left me a voicemail.” His tone was short because, yeah, he was still a little irked that she hadn’t actually spoken to him.

“I’m sorry. I was embarrassed for how I acted. Are your boots okay?”

“They’re fine,” he lied. “How did you feel the next morning?”

She laughed, the sound almost musical. “Like a herd of wild buffalo had run over me. The bottle of water and aspirin helped a lot. Thank you.”

“I’ve had some experience with hangovers. I almost stayed to make you my famous cure, but I didn’t think you’d be comfortable with that.”

“Probably not. God, did I really throw myself at you?”

He turned his head and grinned up at her. “At me, on me. Let’s not quibble. Feel free to do it again. Anytime. Well, at me, not on me. I can’t afford another pair of boots.”

She rolled her eyes but laughed. “I’ll