Page 34 of Saving Mr. Bell

Rudolf’s brow furrowed. “Bruno’s a famous actor. I mean, not Robert De Niro famous, but he’s pretty well-known.”

“So?”

“So…” Rudolf let out another moan as I hit one of his magic spots. “If he’s famous, it stands to reason his feet are famous too.”

Apart from the occasional moan, we lapsed into silence for a few minutes. I’d given up on getting him to stop. I’d just have to put up with my brain cycling through what sounds he might make when other more sensitive parts of his body were stimulated.

“I should be on TV now,” Rudolf said. Was I supposed to apologize? “I’d rather be here.”

A firework went off in my chest at the whispered words, and I didn’t have to think twice about how to respond. “I’d rather you were here, too.”

Chapter Thirteen

Rudolf

This was nice. More than nice. A warm, cozy cabin; nobody around for miles; no phone reception equalling zero interruptions—thank God I hadn’t thought to take my phone to the top of the hill when we’d gone sledging because what if I’d gotten a reception?—and, last but not least, a handsome documentary maker giving me a very unexpected but hugely enjoyable foot massage. I was greedy and wanted more, though.I wanted the bubble of intimacy to continue to its natural conclusion. Not because I was a sex addict, or because I was used to getting my own way when it came to sex, but because I liked Arlo and found him attractive, and I didn’t want to squander the opportunity for this experience—no matter how unorthodox its origins—to be all it could be.

Arlo was still massaging my feet, his teeth digging into his bottom lip in an endearing fashion as he focused on his task. I let out another moan as he dug his thumb into the insole of my foot, this one deliberate. I grinned when Arlo gave a slight shake of his head, but didn’t comment. I might have believed his annoyance if it wasn’t for the swelling under the heel of the foot not being massaged.

I moved that foot slightly, rubbing my heel against the length of him, Arlo’s sharp indrawn breath music to my ears. “Oops, sorry,” I lied.

Arlo lifted his head to glare at me. “You’re a menace.”

“I am. You should… I don’t know, tire me out or something.” Another headshake. “What are you scared of?” I was genuinely interested in Arlo’s answer. After the kisses he’d instigated in the snow, I’d assumed we were on the same page, that he’d given in to the inevitability of what would happen. But it was two steps forward and one step back with Arlo. Although, he surely had to realize the mixed messages he was giving with the foot massage.

“I’m not scared. I’m just trying to be the sensible one.”

“Sensible!” I gave the word the contempt it deserved. “Call me judgmental, but I think you threw away any illusions of being sensible when you hatched your plan to rescue me.”

Arlo snorted. “I thought you were going to say when I got married in Vegas to someone I’d only been seeing for a couple of weeks.”

“That as well. There you go. You’ve got form.”

“Thatdoes not make me feel any better.”

With the foot massage apparently having reached its conclusion, I hoisted myself higher against the sofa arm. High enough that I could wriggle out of my T-shirt and drop it on the floor.

Arlo followed its progress and continued to stare at it. “We need to do some laundry tomorrow.”

“Yep. Laundry. That’s what I like men thinking about while I’m stripping off.” I lowered my hands to the waistband of my sweatpants and wriggled out of those too.

“With two people sharing clothes, we’re going through them quickly.”

I lay back in just a pair of Arlo’s black briefs. “Can you do anything else with that massage oil?”

The request got through to him, Arlo dragging his gaze away from the discarded T-shirt and directing it my way instead. I waggled my eyebrows suggestively at him as he raked his gaze over me, unmistakable heat flaring in his eyes as he studied me. “You want a massage?”

“Yeah. I do.”

His gaze lingered on my crotch, my cock tenting the front of the briefs. “We need towels. I rented this place. I can’t cover the sofa in oil.”

I was off the sofa in a flash to fetch some. In the spirit of optimism, I took a detour to get condoms and lube from the jeans I’d been wearing when I’d arrived.

Thank God, Arlo had snatched me from a nightclub. Anywhere else and I might not have had them on me. In retrospect, I was thankful I hadn’t used them on a sexual experience that would have paled in comparison to the man waiting on the sofa.

Arlo stood when I arrived back, taking the towels from me and arranging them so they covered the entire sofa. I took advantage of his distraction to stash the condoms and lube down the side of the sofa cushions. They weren’t a secret, but why risk spookinghim if I didn’t have to? “You should… er… strip as well,” I said with a slight smirk. “You know, because of that clothes shortage you were talking about. No point in getting oil all over them if you can avoid it.”

My smile grew when he followed my instruction without argument. Ah, so that was the key with him, was it? Dressing everything up as a practical consideration. I’d have to remember that. I lay back on the sofa as Arlo stripped to his underwear. He did a double take when he finally looked up. “You’re the wrong way round.”

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