Page 18 of Paxton

Heat blazes beneath my skin. “What?”

“You get unlimited body work, on me. We could start now. I bet you have some spots that could use some help.”

Fuck me, is the heater on?

“Uh…it’s okay. I feel fine.”

Monroe laughs. “It’s the least I can do,” she offers. “I’ll step out. You get undressed to where you’re comfortable and get under the sheet?—”

“You just said your arms were jelly,” I argue. “We can try another time?—”

“I’m fine,” she cuts me off. “The idea of a vacation with you has totally revived me. I want to repay you in any way I can. Please? You can be the first client in this amazing space you built.”

Shit, this is a turn I didn’t expect, but I can’t turn her down. Not when she’s looking up at me as hopeful as she is.

“Okay,” I say, my voice sounding scraped raw.

“Great!” She heads to the door. “I’ll be back in a few.”

I look around the room, suddenly feeling lost in it despite the fact that I’d designed it.

Lock it up.

This is Monroe’s profession. I can’t make it uncomfortable just because the thought of her hands on my body has me half hard.

I do my best to think of mathematical equations and ice baths as I strip down to my boxers and slide under the sheet. Damn, the massage table is comfortable. Thank goodness the guy who sold it to me knew what he was talking about.

A soft knock on the door has my entire body tensing, but I give the all clear and Monroe comes in.

“I was just realizing,” she says as she heads to her lotion station. “That I’ve never given you any real body work before. Just quick fixes.”

“Yeah,” I say, shifting so my face is in the cradled pillow, my arms resting at my sides. It would be super comfortable, if I wasn’t trying hard as hell to think about anything but my best friend’s hands being on me any second.

Monroe immediately slides her hands, slick with lotion, over my bare back, and I swear just the touch brings me to life.

Nope. Ice baths. Lawson’s gym bag and how bad it smells.

“Whoa,” she says softly, adding more pressure to my right shoulder. “You’re so tense,” she says. “Relax. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

I laugh, doing my best to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’m a grown ass man. I can handle my best friend’s professional touch. I can do this.

I focus a bit harder, allowing myself to pretend this is any other massage therapist working on me to help me with recovery.

It’s fine.

I can ignore how wonderful her touch feels. Ihaveto.

After a few more minutes, I’ve got a firm grip on my professional boundaries, and relax under her touch. She really is the best at what she does—talented doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“I get what all the fuss is about,” I say after a while.

Monroe laughs, working on my hands now. “Oh, you do now?”

“Yep,” I say, much more relaxed now. “I always hear the guys talking about how great you are, but experiencing the full thing is totally different.”

“You doubted me?” she teases, moving to my other hand.

Fuck, it feels so damn good when she does that thing with her thumbs?—

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