“Oh yes,” he shoots me a cheeky smile, “your back massage. You want that now?”
“Is the spa open?” I ask, my voice slick as honey.
He swallows hard. “Uh…always,” he says. “You’ll have to take off the robe.”
I set my book on my night table. I peel my robe off, revealing a rather unsexy granny nightgown. I wince a little, wishing I had something hotter on. But maybe it’s for the best, because we’re not supposed to…
He watches me intently. “The nightie has to go too, I’m afraid.”
I smile up at him, a rather coquettish grin. I stretch my arms and pull the night gown off. I am left topless, in my yellow cotton panties, my legs dangling over the edge of the bed.
He fixes his gaze on me, looking rather serious, and trails his finger along his bottom lip. The gesture is completely unintentional I’m sure, but super sexy. “Uh…you need to lay down on the bed, on your stomach,” he tells me, his voice a bit raspy.
I steal one last look at him. I can tell he’s hard. When it comes to Gabe, this particular state of being is somewhat difficult to hide. He’s rather well…let’s just say the gods of anatomy have been kind to him.
I turn on my stomach, a big grin practically splitting my face in two.
At first, he sits beside me on the bed, and strokes me; the back of my neck, my shoulders, and the base of my back.
The feel of his hands on my skin is not necessarily sexual, just amazing.
He shifts uncomfortably on the bed. “Can I kneel over you?” he asks. “This isn’t quite working.”
“Sure, but behave,” I tease.
He laughs. “I will. I promise,” he vows. “But I should tell you, I have a pretty impressive—”
“I know,” I laugh. “I noticed.”
“Sorry, it can’t be helped.”
“As long as it doesn’t interfere with your work.”
“I promise it won’t, Ma’am.”
Okay, now it gets a little more sexual. He hovers over my rear, my hips trapped between his legs. The feel of him over me makes my body very aware and a little tense too. But I’m not really aroused. My body is not quite ready for that yet. I close my eyes and just enjoy the feel of his hands on my back. The pressure of his strokes is perfect, not too soft, not too hard.
And as the gentle pressure relaxes my muscles, I close my eyes and drift off…
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Is there still a chance for us?
It’s late and the girls have already been tucked in. The house is eerily quiet, save for the sound of rain on the rooftop and the occasional thunder roar. I’m nursing a cup of honey-lemon tea and Gabe is sitting at the dining room table (the one we never actually eat at). He’s still laboring over the puzzle we had all been working on earlier.
He’s so focused on the task at hand, and doesn’t even notice me watching him. I smile at the sight of him trying to work out the shades of grey on the tiny puzzle piece. I personally don’t have much patience for puzzles but he always has. He used to do them all the time when he was young. It was a family tradition of sorts that he has carried on with our girls.
I quietly take a seat across him. He glances up at me for a second and shoots me a smile. “These things are addictive.”
“If only your buddies could see you now,” I tease.
He laughs. “I would never live it down,” he tells me, working on one of the kitten faces. This particular puzzle is tough — four identical tabby kittens in a basket, staring at the camera as if it were a bowl of milk, their little paws hanging over the basket daintily. It if were any cuter, it might be illegal. This is not his first kitty puzzle. With two girls, he’s done his share of puzzles featuring cats, puppies, and even the occasional unicorn.
“This one will probably go up in Claire’s room,” I tell him.
He smiles. “Yeah, she asked me to finish it.”
“Well, looks like you’re on your way,” I say, looking down at the completed border and three adorable finished tabby faces.
We fall into quietness and it doesn’t feel strained. In fact, it’s rather soothing. I know I shouldn’t ruin it with words, with a conversation we probably shouldn’t have. But this is a perfect time to talk. It’s quiet and