massage...”
“So you think you’re letting him down.”
“Of course I let him down.” The admission came through gritted teeth, which either meant her thumbs were causing enough pain to make him grit his teeth or the situation was.
She stopped the deep kneading there and stepped forward until his head touched her chest. “Rest against me, I’m going to rub down your back, stretch those muscles out some. That will make it easier to work on your shoulder.”
“That plan has me pushing my face into your breasts.” He tilted his head back to look up at her as he said it, but his teeth stopped clenching, which she could only consider progress.
“Consider that a bonus.” She smiled, “But if you ask for a happy ending when your shoulder is feeling better, I may punch you somewhere you wouldn’t want me to punch you.”
He smirked. “That could be anywhere. I’m not a fan of being punched.”
“Just of punching. Which is how I know you’re feeling worse than you let on.”
He leaned forward, burying his face in the valley of her cleavage, and sighed. Still not wanting to talk about it.
“No motor-boating while you’re down there either,” she said, trying to draw him out of it a little. And it was easy to flirt with him. She hadn’t seen a real smile from him yet and it surprised her how badly she wanted to.
Her teasing was rewarded with a little chuckle she felt a rumble through her chest to her belly, and his arms relaxed, elbows on his knees, his hands lightly cupping the outsides of her thighs. The innocent touch set off a wash of good tingles more powerful than his face on her chest. She’d long considered the back of the thighs an erogenous zone...
The tension in his spine lessened. Better. An even better sign that she’d be able to get him to smile later, when she could see it.
Another drizzle of oil and she pressed her thumbs into the muscle knotting the back of his neck, and stroked down along his spine, making little tight circles with the pads of her thumbs when she encountered a knottier area on his spine.
“How are you working on your quest?”
He still avoided the too-personal question, but kept her talking.
“Meditation. Exercise. Aromatherapy.”
He laughed for real this time.
She was going to choke him. “Oh, hush, Doctor Man. You know that smell is one of the most powerful memory triggers?”
“So you’re trying to recover a memory?” he asked, the chuckle fading from his voice.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, now that he’d started circling the subject she didn’t really want to talk about. But lying was equally distasteful to her. She thought for a bit and tried to tell the truth while not exposing her tender underbelly. “This will probably sound all depressing, and I’m not depressed—I just haven’t really been happy for a long time. Not truly happy or content. Doesn’t matter what I do, even the highs I’ve gotten from volunteering and doing good things don’t do much or last very long any more. It’s started to feel like penance, and I don’t know why.” Which was part of it, but it still left her feeling vulnerable. She’d been hiding this from everyone.
Anson leaned back again, putting enough space between them to look her in the eyes.
Exposed. She felt exposed the way he looked at her, and aware of an unpleasant cold feeling in her chest. She looked away. “You want realigning.”
*
Anson couldn’t read her expression, but he knew a thing or two about living a penance-filled existence. There was such vulnerability to her honesty that it hit something inside him and made him want to help, to fix whatever was making her unhappy. She put on a good show. Had she not said those words to him, he might never have guessed.
“I need realigning,” he repeated, no longer sure he was speaking of his spine.
“Right here.” She pressed on the muscle that had seriously bunched up just below his shoulder blades, the pain proving her point.
“So you think you’re letting him down.”
“Of course I let him down.” The admission came through gritted teeth, which either meant her thumbs were causing enough pain to make him grit his teeth or the situation was.
She stopped the deep kneading there and stepped forward until his head touched her chest. “Rest against me, I’m going to rub down your back, stretch those muscles out some. That will make it easier to work on your shoulder.”
“That plan has me pushing my face into your breasts.” He tilted his head back to look up at her as he said it, but his teeth stopped clenching, which she could only consider progress.
“Consider that a bonus.” She smiled, “But if you ask for a happy ending when your shoulder is feeling better, I may punch you somewhere you wouldn’t want me to punch you.”
He smirked. “That could be anywhere. I’m not a fan of being punched.”
“Just of punching. Which is how I know you’re feeling worse than you let on.”
He leaned forward, burying his face in the valley of her cleavage, and sighed. Still not wanting to talk about it.
“No motor-boating while you’re down there either,” she said, trying to draw him out of it a little. And it was easy to flirt with him. She hadn’t seen a real smile from him yet and it surprised her how badly she wanted to.
Her teasing was rewarded with a little chuckle she felt a rumble through her chest to her belly, and his arms relaxed, elbows on his knees, his hands lightly cupping the outsides of her thighs. The innocent touch set off a wash of good tingles more powerful than his face on her chest. She’d long considered the back of the thighs an erogenous zone...
The tension in his spine lessened. Better. An even better sign that she’d be able to get him to smile later, when she could see it.
Another drizzle of oil and she pressed her thumbs into the muscle knotting the back of his neck, and stroked down along his spine, making little tight circles with the pads of her thumbs when she encountered a knottier area on his spine.
“How are you working on your quest?”
He still avoided the too-personal question, but kept her talking.
“Meditation. Exercise. Aromatherapy.”
He laughed for real this time.
She was going to choke him. “Oh, hush, Doctor Man. You know that smell is one of the most powerful memory triggers?”
“So you’re trying to recover a memory?” he asked, the chuckle fading from his voice.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, now that he’d started circling the subject she didn’t really want to talk about. But lying was equally distasteful to her. She thought for a bit and tried to tell the truth while not exposing her tender underbelly. “This will probably sound all depressing, and I’m not depressed—I just haven’t really been happy for a long time. Not truly happy or content. Doesn’t matter what I do, even the highs I’ve gotten from volunteering and doing good things don’t do much or last very long any more. It’s started to feel like penance, and I don’t know why.” Which was part of it, but it still left her feeling vulnerable. She’d been hiding this from everyone.
Anson leaned back again, putting enough space between them to look her in the eyes.
Exposed. She felt exposed the way he looked at her, and aware of an unpleasant cold feeling in her chest. She looked away. “You want realigning.”
*
Anson couldn’t read her expression, but he knew a thing or two about living a penance-filled existence. There was such vulnerability to her honesty that it hit something inside him and made him want to help, to fix whatever was making her unhappy. She put on a good show. Had she not said those words to him, he might never have guessed.
“I need realigning,” he repeated, no longer sure he was speaking of his spine.
“Right here.” She pressed on the muscle that had seriously bunched up just below his shoulder blades, the pain proving her point.
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