Whispers (Argent Springs) (15 page)

He groaned and rolled onto his back, blinking
sleepy eyelids and barely focusing on her. “A little better, I think.”

“That’s good. If you can roll to your stomach, I’ll
see if you have any severely knotted muscles.”

“Okay.” His movements were slow and clumsy,
probably from the meds he’d taken.

Erin glanced at his position on the bed. He’d
rolled over farther away from her, making it hard to reach him. It made her
uncomfortable to do so, but she climbed up on the bed, kneeling next to him. He
had his face away from her, so at least it made that part easier.

She pressed the wrinkles from his T-shirt so that
she had a smooth surface and began running her hands down his back, searching
for culprits. The fact that only a thin piece of cotton kept her from touching
his bare skin did not escape her notice. Her fingers itched to rub oil over
him, and she had to fight to keep her feelings professional. She had to admit,
she preferred to work on her cuter male clients, but in her line of work, she was
required to treat everyone equally. She would have to do the same with Rick.

A thick mass of muscles on both sides of his spine
near his lumbar region caught her attention. “These are really bad here.”

He mumbled in agreement.

She scooted in closer and checked the muscles
covering his neck and traps. They were tight, but not a tangled mass like farther
down his back. She slid her thumbs down both sides of his spine until she
reached his critical area again. “Would you like me to grab my massage table
and set it up in here? I really think it might help you.”

“Mm-hmm,” he said in response, seeming more than a
little out of it.

“Okay, you stay right here. I’ll be back in a
minute.” She headed to her room to collect her tools, hoping she knew what she
was doing offering a personal service to him. She was used to touching people,
just not
him
.

She slung the bag containing her oil over her
shoulder and lifted her massage table from the corner where she’d tucked it.
She’d planned on offering massages to Annabelle, but hadn’t expected to make
her services available to anyone else.

Erin’s nerves sizzled as she returned to his room.
She would get as much pleasure from this as he would which might be considered bad
form. But she was really and truly doing him a favor, so she had to focus on
that.

Rick hadn’t moved from the spot she’d left him in,
and she had to wonder if he’d fallen back asleep. She quietly set up her table
and then returned to his bedside.

“Rick?” She placed a hand on his back and nudged
him a little. “Are you ready?”

He responded by turning over on the bed and giving
her a grunt of acceptance.

“Let me help you.” She slid an arm beneath his
shoulders, her breasts brushing his bicep, leaving their heads only inches
apart. “It’s easier if you kind of roll as you get up.”

He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and
then followed her suggestions until he was in a sitting position. He leaned a
little to the left, became unbalanced and shifted to the right. “The room is...”

“Pain killers and muscle relaxers will do that to
you. Just hang onto me, and I’ll help you get on my table. First though, you
need to take off your shirt. Your pants, too, if you don’t mind.” Had she
really just said that to him?

He widened his semi-unfocused eyes and grinned. “I
see how you work.”

A sharp awareness shot through her, and she tried
to ignore it. She’d been trained to handle customers who tried to make things
seemed more than what they were. The only problem was, in this case, there
were
feelings of attraction on her part. “Let’s keep this professional.” Normally
she’d add another sentence offering to get another therapist for the customer
if the he didn’t feel he could play by the rules.

“I’m just teasing you.” He lifted the edge of his
T-shirt and pulled it over his head exposing an amazing amount of tantalizing
flesh. He handed his shirt to her, and she wrapped her hands around the soft
cotton, trying not to drool as she watched his fingers fumble with the button
at his waist. He undid it, then unzipped his pants, exposing a pair of blue
cotton boxer briefs.

He swayed a little as he stood, and she put a
steadying hand on his arm. She averted her eyes as he slid his jeans down, knowing
if she stared at him she’d lose her ability to remain professional.

“Can you help me?” he asked as he plopped back
down on the bed.

She swallowed as she looked at him. He sat with
his feet out, a puddle of jeans tangled around them. She bent forward and slid
them from him, placing his shirt and pants, still warm from his body, on the
bed. She ignored her erratic heartbeat as she grabbed one bicep. “Let’s get you
on the table.” Maybe if she acted like this was just a job, it would begin to
feel that way.

With lumbering movements, he finally settled on
her workstation. She removed the bottle of massage oil from her bag and
squirted some in her hand. “I’m sorry if this is a little cold. I don’t have my
warmer with me.”

She held the oil in her hands for a few moments
trying to heat it and then she slathered it on his exposed back. Her fingers
cruised over solid flesh, and she had to resist the urge to dig in her nails
like she might while making love.

She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to gain
control over her reaction to him. Touching him like this was far more erotic
than it should be, making her question her ability to remain detached as she
performed her work.

Trying to focus on the job and not the man, she
moved to the head of the bed, working his traps first like she always did with
customers, trying to get him to relax.

“Damn,” he whispered, the sound of his pleasure sending
a myriad of sensations through her. “That’s good.”

His words had the effect of a lover whispering in
her ear, making it nearly impossible to stay focused.

His muscles softened as she manipulated them, and
she dug her thumb in, going deeper into the muscle tissue.

He released a deep breath.

“Let me know if I hurt you.”

“You’re not,” he whispered again.

She studied him as she worshipped his body with
her hands. Short, dark hairs that had been shaved along the base of his skull
were beginning to grow. Impressive strength lay dormant in his shoulders and
arms, all pliable beneath her fingertips, and she enjoyed memorizing each hill
and valley of his back.

He released another sigh, and she had to stop
herself from doing the same as heat pooled at her center. It was a normal,
physiological reaction, she had to remind herself. He
was
an attractive
man, but she was an adult, and she wouldn’t act on her feelings.

She angled in, using her elbow and forearm to gain
access to even deeper muscles. Her hair tickled her arm, and she realized it
had curtained across his head. She gritted her teeth and lifted away from him.
She should have remembered to pull it back before she’d started.

When she finished the top half of his back, she
slowly began to make her way lower. She dragged her hands down the length of
his back, stretching those muscles.

Then she stopped.

In order to fully massage all the muscles in his
lower back, she would have to move his underwear out of the way. Doing so was
common practice, no big deal with the rest of her clients. She did what she
needed to give a good massage. But this was different.

She inhaled and bit her bottom lip, waiting for
his reaction as she slipped her fingertips beneath the waistband and tugged
down his briefs a few inches.

He didn’t move, other than a slight stiffening of
his muscles which could be normal, too, because of more skin being exposed to
the cool air.

The smooth skin at the top of his ass was visible
to her, and playing peek-a-boo only left her wanting to see more.

Desperate to finish before she embarrassed
herself, she moved on. She poured more oil into her hands, then spread it
across his lower back. She warmed up and softened the hard masses, and then dug
in deep.

A quick intake of breath assured her he was still
awake.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s okay. It hurts good.”

Hurts good? Kind of like her heart that felt like
it might be coming back to life? A wounded-but-healing kind of feeling? Not
that she’d expect anything from Rick. He had his own demons to conquer, it
seemed. But she couldn’t deny he made her feel things she hadn’t experienced in
a long time. For that, she was grateful. Maybe being close to him would get her
back on the right path.

She was beginning to think so.

She started with her thumb midway up his back and
drew it downward, digging into his flesh all the way to his butt.

“Damn.”

“Did I hurt you again?”

A moment passed before he answered. “No.”

Maybe she was pushing too deep for a first
massage. He had quite a bit of inflammation in the area, so she eased up, concentrating
on making the top layer of his muscles soft and pliable. “It would be a good
idea if we massaged you again in a day or two so we can keep the muscles we’ve
worked on stretched, and then we’ll be able to get to the deeper muscles.”

He didn’t answer, leaving an awkward silence
between them.

Maybe she’d caused him more pain than she’d
realized.

She finished up and then drew a towel from her
bag, wiping most of the oil from his back and her hands. She slipped his briefs
back in place.

“Let’s see how you feel when you stand.” Her calm
words were in complete contradiction to her racing heart. “I know Annabelle has
dinner almost ready, so let’s get you up.”

He rolled on the covered table, his gaze dark and
unreadable as he met hers. Something in them seemed to warn her, but she
couldn’t figure out why she would possibly need to be on alert. “Take my arm,
and I’ll help you.”

“I’m good.” His voice seemed clearer, steadier
than when she’d started his massage. He lifted off the table, his stomach
muscles contracting as he straightened and put both feet on the floor. He
wobbled just the slightest.

He seemed much bigger standing next to her in only
his underwear with all of his work-hardened muscles exposed. She couldn’t help
but glance lower, her heart nearly stopping when she noticed the bulge outlined
against the thin blue cotton, an obvious clue as to what was churning in his
brain. He stepped toward her, and she backed up, totally unprepared for the
sensuous play she was suddenly caught in.

But he didn’t stop advancing, and only a foot of
space stood between her and the wall. She bumped up against it as he placed his
hands on the wall on both sides of her head, trapping her in place.

She reached out, gripping his solid torso, not
sure if she was trying to steady him or erect a barrier between them. Her pulse
thundered in her ears, making it hard to think. He was so close, so big. “Are
you okay?” she whispered. “Those drugs can make anyone a little dizzy.”

“I’m fine.”

She wasn’t so sure.

“I wanted to say thank you,” his voice came out in
a lazy yet sexy-as-hell drawl.

She tried to focus on his words and not his
actions or her reaction to him. “You’re welcome.”

He didn’t move, and the tension crackled between
them. He studied her eyes, and then his gaze moved to her lips.

Oh, damn
was all she managed to think
before his lips covered hers. He claimed her with a hot possessiveness that
stole her will and converted it to need. She tightened her grip on his torso,
her nails clenching into his sides.

He removed her hands and placed them against the
wall near her head, never breaking their kiss. He dominated her, and she let
him. She should stop him. He was still under the influence of drugs, but she
couldn’t. Not yet.

She moaned softly, intensifying his assault. His
tongue teased hers, sending sensation after sensation ricocheting through her.

She might not have been able to admit it, but
she’d known having his lips on hers would be a thrill like no other. She hadn’t
been wrong.

She tilted her head away from him, filling her
lungs, her whole body trembling with need.

He moved his kisses to the column of her neck,
across her jawline, to the sensitive spot behind her ear. She gasped as a
shiver rocked her.

He captured her face between his warm hands,
holding her tight as he reclaimed her lips. Morning stubble scraped her jaw as
his mouth led her down a wanton road.

A warning flashed in her brain, but the signal had
been weakened by a flood of endorphins. She wrapped her arms around his waist,
and that was all the encouragement he needed.

With motions that were almost animalistic, he
pushed her shirt up, his hand slipping beneath her bra. Rough fingers cupped
her breast, sending a violent shiver through her. A powerful ache consumed her
as a whimper slipped from her lips.

“Yes,” he said, his voice husky.

This was all moving too fast. She wanted him like
she wanted none other, but if she let this continue, they’d both regret it when
the drugs cleared from his system.

She tried to pull back, and he responded by
holding her tighter. The man was testosterone on fire. The drugs racing through
his system must be inhibiting his normal reserves.

“Rick,” she said against his mouth, slipping her
fingertips between their lips, forcing him to stop. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” He placed his hand on her cheek and
kissed her until she couldn’t breathe.

“Please.” She repeated her actions. “Stop.”

He blinked as he pulled back from her, his eyes
glazed with need and medication. “I want you.”

“I know.” She wanted him, too, more than anything.
She pushed against him, and he stepped back, a confused look on his face.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I thought
you…” He glanced around the room as though trying to gain his bearings, and she
recognized the mess she’d created. She never should have let him kiss her,
never should have indulged even for a second.

“It’s my fault. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
She quickly righted her clothing.

“No—”

“Are you okay to get dressed by yourself? Dinner’s
almost done, and I should help Annabelle.” She backed toward the door, needing
to escape the embarrassment rolling through her in nauseating waves. “In fact,
you should stay here. I’ll have Annabelle bring your dinner to you. You really
should just stay in bed.”

She ran from his room and down the stairs, finding
solace in a lower level bathroom. She flipped on the lights as a strong scent
of lavender surrounded her, and she glanced about. “Leave me alone,” she
whispered and turned on the cold water.

Her cheeks were flushed bright red, a hazy look
hovering in her eyes. She gasped, knowing if she hadn’t stopped Rick, they
would have ended up on the bed, making love with the door open.

And then he would have hated her tomorrow.
Probably himself, too, for being so weak and not turning her away.

She scooped a handful of cold water and splashed it
on her face. The effect ruined her mascara, but it did cool her skin. She
splashed several more before drying her face on a soft green towel.

He was probably reacting to a recently wounded
heart, and she’d lost complete control of her professional abilities.

She was an idiot.

And she’d just promised Annabelle she’d stay an
extra week if not longer. How would she ever face him again after their
encounter? Could she hope he might forget? Would he think maybe he’d had a
hallucination caused by the drugs?

A knock sounded on the door, and she jumped. She’d
die if Rick was on the other side.

“Erin, love? Is that you in there?”

She sagged against the counter. “I’m just washing
up,” she called through the door to her aunt.

“Is Rick coming down for dinner?”

Erin unlocked the door and opened it. “I think
he’s still a little woozy from all the drugs. It’s probably best if he eats up
there.” That would buy her a little more time to figure out how to handle
things.