Page 39 of Devotion

Yes, he’s quite clearly aroused right now. I can hear it in his voice, see it in his flushed face and in the way he’s holding his body.

But that doesn’t mean he’ll ever accept more from me than what he’s been taking for the past months.

“What?” he asks.

I’m in such a mental fluster I can’t even follow the question. “What, what?”

“You said,if you want… but you never finished the sentence.”

“Oh.” I take a ragged breath that almost certainly blows a hole into my fake composure. “It was just a random thought. Since the pool is closed and you can’t do your swim, I could… I could take care of you for a while. But you probably want to get right to work before the weekly council meeting, and that’s fine.”

He stares for what feels like a long time before he answers. “What did you have in mind?”

I gulp, suddenly hopeful and even more excited. “Well, I don’t know. Whatever you feel like. But I was thinking we have extra time, so I could… I could spend more time.”

Our eyes meet for several seconds, and it’s intense. Weirdly hungry.

“Okay,” he says at last.

“Okay?”

He nods.

My hand is shaking slightly as I gesture toward the bed. “Do you want to lie down? We can start with a full-body massage if that sounds good.”

Everything inside me is shuddering helplessly, so it feels safer to stick with an extended version of what we normally do even though part of me really wants to do more.

“You don’t mind? You’re not even dressed.”

A little giggle escapes my lips. “I don’t care about that. Unless you want me to put clothes on?”

He shakes his head, his eyes crawling over my naked body once more. “No. Don’t.”

“Okay. Then…” I wave toward the bed again.

This time Gabriel walks over and sits on the edge. When he glances up at me, I say, “Maybe start on your stomach. I’ll work on your back first.”

He doesn’t say anything else as he stretches out on the bed on his stomach with his head turned toward the left. He shifts his arms a few times until he settles them by his sides. I’m about to climb onto the other side of the bed when I think of something.

“I’ll grab some body oil from the bathroom.” I hurry to find the oil with the other luxury toiletries provided by the palace.

When I return, I get on the bed and kneel beside him as I decide how to begin.

I squirt some scented oil into my hands, rub them together, and then start to massage his upper back.

He sighs and closes his eyes as I work on him, relaxing in that intentional way he has. Like loosening his body is another duty he must perform successfully.

I wonder how he got this way. Why he always strives to achieve and pours everything into it.

It’s too much pressure and responsibility for one person to carry.

After a few minutes of pushing into trigger points and kneading his tight back muscles, I hear myself asking, “Have you ever had a massage before?”

“Not until you.” His eyes are still closed, and his breath hitches when I find a knot under his right shoulder blade. “Why do you ask? Am I bad at it?”

“What? Of course not!” I’m immediately defensive on his behalf, and I can hear it in my voice. Moderating my tone, I add, “I don’t think it’s something anyone can be good at. It’s supposed to help you relax and your muscles not always be so tight.”

“I know. But I think the tension is an essential part of my nature. It’s my core personality.”

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