Page 11 of Muffin Top
"Yeah," I whispered, aching with need and a little embarrassment. "Really good."
His hands slowly worked up and down my back. "Are your eyes closed, Honey?"
"Yes."
He didn't comment for a long moment then let out a shaky breath. "Fuck, here goes."
I waited, eyes still closed, all my senses attuned to him.
"In high school, I crushed on you hard." His hands continued their ministrations. "I wanted to ask you out, but you were always so…" his voice trailed off. "Vivacious. Larger than life. You were the spotlight and I was just some guy in the background."
I let out a huffed laugh in disbelief. "Excuse me? You were the ‘it’ guy. Class president. Star of the football team. I loved every class I had with you. You were always witty and intelligent and knew how to make me and everyone else feel included. Tristan, I had a crush on you."
His hands faltered on my back. "Really?"
"Uh, yeah." I shifted to sit but his hand pressed to the middle of my back, keeping me still.
"Stay, I'm not done with you yet." His words had an edge of steel to them and I quivered under his hand, deliciously aware of the fact I loved that authority in his voice.
"Okay," I paused unsure of how far to push this. "Sheriff."
"Fuck," he muttered, shifting above me, his hands once again gliding across my skin. "Okay. Way I see it, we got three options."
"Huh?"
"I finish this massage; we lock up and both go home – never talk about it again."
I frowned, not liking that at all.
"Option two, we finish this massage; we lock up, but I take you out to dinner this week."
Oh, I liked that.
"And option three?" I asked, my voice unusually husky.
"You let me turn you over, peel these leggings from your body and massage your pussy, then we lock up and I take you out for breakfast tomorrow."
Option three. I want option three.
My body, already aching with need, tightened to full desperate arousal at his words. God, I wanted this. I wanted him. I wanted… all of it.
"Your choice, babe."
"Three," I didn't hesitate. "I want…" I swallowed; my mouth suddenly dry. "I want you to touch me."
"Turn over."
He pulled the towel up, holding it between us like a curtain, blocking his view. I rolled over, settling into place. He draped the towel back over me, hiding my body from his view. If the situation wasn’t so hot, I’d probably giggle at the thought of Tristan keeping my modesty after his earlier proposition.
"You can say no at any point." He told me, his beautiful dark eyes meeting mine in the dim light.
"I know."
"Good. Close your eyes."
My lids drifted shut and I forced myself to take long, deep breaths.
Tristan didn't go straight for my legs. Instead, he stood at my head, his hands continuing to work the tight muscles at my neck and shoulders.
