The Bachelor Contract(23)

His vision blurred as she worked that same knot, and he grabbed the edge of the table and tried to control his breathing. She went up on her tiptoes and shoved him down against the table like one of Satan’s minions.

He hissed out a curse as the knot finally released, only for her to move on to the next one.

What the hell was wrong with having a relaxing massage? Should he say something?

Oh wait, she was mute. Not deaf. He mentally slapped himself. The massage would be a lot better if she could communicate with him—then again, his constant squirming was probably enough of a clue to the pain he was in.

He was dripping with sweat, and she was just massaging his back. Yeah, it was going to be another long hour.





Chapter Ten



The poor guy was sweating.

Then again, it wasn’t like she was being gentle—she was terrified that if she actually spread her fingers wide across that gorgeously muscled back, she’d hop on the table and mount him. It was bad enough that she’d heard him trip when he entered the room—but she needed it dark; otherwise it was hard to focus when she could still see moving colors and parts.

Pitch-black except for the small crack of light from under the door that at least allowed her clients to focus on silly things like her feet as she moved around the table.

And yet she’d give anything to actually be able to see him, to see if he really looked as good as he felt. Her body shivered.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Pain. Pain was the only way she was going to get through this massage, and while she did feel a bit bad that she was making him more tense, the only way she was able to control herself was by using her elbows instead of her hands. Hands felt too personal for him, but elbows felt….technical.

It took her minutes to rub her hands, because every time she thought of touching him again, she wanted to do more than touch.

Bad Nikki.

She tried thinking of Cole’s good-bye kiss. It had left her cold.

And right now? Touching this strange man? She was searing. On fire. Dying inch by inch as she spread her fingers wide and pressed deep into his muscles.

How could a complete stranger elicit such a sexual reaction from her?

Focus. She ran her hands down his back and stopped at his ass. Her hands shook. Cole’s warnings sounded in her head.

She softly ran her hands over his perfection, and she bit down on her lip to keep from saying something stupid to a guy who couldn’t hear her.

Keep it professional, she told herself.

She worked on his gluteus muscles with her elbows, then transitioned to her hands, using her palms against his thigh and sliding up toward one perfect ass cheek.

And then, the man, the man who could quite possibly have the face of a decaying hamster, barked out a curse.

She winced. Maybe she was being a little rough.

When she walked back toward his head and ran her hands down his neck, he trembled beneath her. She sucked in a breath, lips parted, as she leaned closer to his body. He tensed and arched toward her.

This was bad. So bad.

She should stop. Let go. Run.

Instead, she froze.

One hand moved from the table and gripped her right hip, pulling her close. Her mind screamed run, but her body screamed hell yes. If Cole walked in…she wouldn’t just be fired, she’d be mortified.

She’d already been written up once. And this was way worse than having a semidirty work space.

She shuddered as he mimicked the way her hands moved over his neck, softly at first. Then, as she worked the muscles near the back of his head, his right hand dug into her ass while his thumb brushed across her hipbone. She bucked against his hand before her brain could tell her body it was a bad idea. He moaned.

It was a low moan.

Gravelly.

She felt that moan from her pinky toes all the way up to her flushed face.

Her hands slid down his back until she came into contact with his ass, only this time she was basically laying her body across him. His head was almost between her legs, and with their positioning, well, things would be bad if they were naked.

Both of his hands jerked to her hips, sliding up and down, up and down, and then he very slowly dipped his thumb into the band of her black leggings.

This was insanity!

He hesitated. Like he was asking for permission.

And like the hussy she was, she just kept massaging him, and then gave him her answer when she ran her hands down his ass, cupping it once, twice, and squeezing, only to dance her fingertips along the side of his hips and slide underneath.

He hissed out a curse that sounded like he definitely did not have a communication problem, and he shook when her right hand grazed down the front of his hips. She started to move toward the foot of the table, only to have his right hand jerk out and grab her by the wrist, holding her in place, his breathing heavy.