“Oh, you’ve done enough. Thanks.”
“Roslyn, at the very least your arms need a rub. We have to get the sleeves out of the way. Don’t want to get oil on them.” There were already marks where his fingers were holding it, but she didn’t need to know that. “Okay?”
She looked back at him, brows a straight line and face argumentative but tired. There were faint bruises under eyes and lines of tension around her mouth. Now was the time to strike.
“You’ve got a bra on. What’s the big deal?” He gave her his most open, harmless, boyish face.
“Alright.” She frowned some more but let him draw the shirt up and over her head, off her arms. Slowly, carefully, he revealed soft skin and magnificent fucking curves. Nick swallowed hard and licked his lips, kept the lust off his face in case she still watched him. Ros reminded him of a schoolmarm, one with a twelve-inch ruler ready to come down on his knuckles—or somewhere far worse.
“Relax,” he said.
The notches of her spine intrigued him, the feel of that line of bumps beneath his fingers. He poured some more oil into his hands, all ready to get to work. It would be hard to reach everything from where he was.
“Hang on.” Nick got to his knees and swung a leg over her, crouching above her thighs.
“What are you doing?”
“I can reach better from here.” He leant over so she could see him and smiled blandly. “Relax.”
Without waiting for a response he started in on her arms. The knots in her muscles were right there, sitting beneath the skin.
Ros sighed and rested her head on the mattress. “That feels good. Thanks.”
“No worries.”
“You’re still not getting sex.”
“What a surprise.” He laughed.
The funny thing was … she laughed too. A low little chuckle he’d never heard before. Her shoulders shook beneath his hands in time with the noise. What he’d give to really make her laugh, a big belly laugh that had her clutching her middle and tears leaking out of her eyes. How amazing would it be for her to be that happy and carefree, and for him to be the reason? A sort of selfish thought, but then again, sort of not.
He snorted. What about this set-up wasn’t selfish?
“What?” she asked, trying to peer back at him.
His hands cupped her shoulders, just sitting there. Again, he angled himself so she could see him without killing her neck. “I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh before.”
“Oh.” She gave him an awkward smile and laid her head back down.
“I like it.”
She blinked several times, but made no reply.
Fair enough. He got back to massaging her shoulders, letting his fingers wander along her arms, all the way down to her hands. If she could see him stretched out above her, over her, measuring out her body with his own, she would have been very fucking uncomfortable. As it was, her breathing picked up its pace. He could smell the flowery shampoo she used in her hair, familiar enough to make him smile. Of course his dick twitched in his pants, but he ignored it. Being with Ros was a unique sort of torture. The feel of her beneath him sat front and center in his brain every minute, no escape. Best thing to do would be to think of something horrible, like the other day at the school. What would have happened if Roslyn had been there without him? Fear wiped the smile right off his face. Never, ever, ever would she be in that position. Nick rested his forehead against the back of her head for a moment, taking a second to calm himself. She was alive and fine and she’d stay that way.
“What are you doing now?” she asked in a small voice.
“Just thinking.” He rubbed the pads of his fingers over her delicate knuckles, between them. “I’m glad it was you I found.”
She didn’t reply but he could feel the tension running through her, beneath him. Not what he’d intended. He sat back, giving her some breathing room, letting her have her space. His hands slicked over the surface of her skin, getting back to business. Back up her arms and over her shoulders, tracing out her ribs. Carefully avoiding the pale blue straps of her bra.
There was a mole to the right hand side of her spine, a third of the way down. He brushed a finger back and forth over it. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Her voice wavered, like the fact stunned her, or unnerved her.
“Tell me you hate me,” he said, half joking.
He waited for the words, fully expecting them but not quite as hardened to them as he’d like to be. Those pretty lips parted and her ribcage moved beneath the palms of his hands as she took a deep breath. But then her lips sealed shut again.