Page 2 of Privileged (Adrenalin)

Whoever said he’s wicked hot was sorely underestimating his appeal. Dark hair cropped close to his head on the sides, with just enough length on the top to grab a handful. A hint of scruff along his jawline, longer around his mouth, as if it grows thicker and faster there. Or he wears a goatee and forgot to shave today. Brown eyes hooded by thick brows, serious but not cold. Assessing. Almost as if he’s confused to see me.

“Can I help you?” He adjusts the tie around his neck, drawing my gaze to the Adam’s Apple that bobs above his collar. Even that’s attractive.

“You asked for a massage?” My voice sounds softer than usual. Timid. I’m not sure if that’s due to the aura of silence in the office, the man, or the suit.Who wears a suit at a ski resort?I feel suddenly under-dressed in my spa-issued polo shirt.

A crease mars his imposing brow as my words sink in. “Janice called you?”

“Yeah. Yes.” I swallow, hoping that will reset my mind and help me speak.

He leans back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Lifting a long arm he points to the center of the room, between the chairs facing his desk and a seating area to my right. “You can set up over there.”

The deep timbre of his voice makes me shiver, which I try to mask by shrugging off the backpack.

As I unpack and set up the table my eyes keep drifting to the enigmatic man across the room. His head is bent over the desk, eyes focused on the papers lying there. A large hand runs through his hair, mussing it slightly, before continuing to his neck, where it stays, rubbing at what I assume is the source of tension that resulted in my summoning.What could possibly make a man like Carter tense?

When the table is ready, I clear my throat, and he slowly lifts his head to meet my gaze. “I um… should I wait outside while you change?” I glance at the table then back at him, hoping he interprets my meaning without the need for clarification. I’m not sure the words‘get naked’will make it past my lips without blood rushing to my cheeks.

“Stay there. I’ll use the bathroom.” His broad shoulders flex as he pushes himself off the chair and strides to a door I hadn’t even noticed. Aprivatebathroom? Nice perk.

Alone, I take my first full breath since walking through the door. Carter’s reputation now makes sense. If the man can exude power simply walking across a room, I can’t imagine how intimidating he must be to do business with.

Though I’m tempted to take this opportunity to explore his office, I can’t bring myself to snoop around too much. I catalog the leather couch and chair to one side of the room, opposite the bathroom. The ornate mahogany desk and matching bookshelf. A picture of someone on a podium in a racing bib. Then I busy myself searching for the massage oil I want, one with a light, woodsy scent. My gut says it will suit him, though I have nothing except the wood tones in his office to suggest that might be true.

As my fingers find the right bottle there’s a soft creak across the room. I look up to find Carter exiting the bathroom, and my breath gets trapped in my lungs.

Clad only in a towel, his firm pecs and washboard abs are on full display. The sunlight coming through the window glints off the contours of his skin as he closes the distance between us, making it impossible not to notice the way his muscles flex as he walks. He stops mere feet away, close enough that I can run my fingers over his smooth skin if I extend my arm.

From this distance, I see his eyes are lighter than I first thought. More like whisky than chocolate. They’re not serious so much as tired. I have a sudden burst of empathy for the man who looks like he’s running on empty now that I can see him clearly. That’s not a good thing, since I have a soft spot for people facing adversity. Something about being underestimated or undervalued makes me want to see them succeed.

I don’t see them as kindred spirits or anything. Definitely not. Probably not.

“Where do you want me?” His deep voice rattles around inside my body, drawing my attention back to his.

I swallow, lost for words. I’ve massaged dozens, maybe even hundreds of men before, but I’ve never seen such a perfect specimen up close. It’s both intriguing and unnerving, making me more flustered than I’ve ever been on the job.Is he built from granite?

“Um…under the sheet please. Face down.” I force my eyes to the ground before he notices me staring.Dear Lord, I’m sort of eager to touch him. That is so wrong.

Carter climbs under the sheet and dislodges the towel, holding it out to me. I take it and set it on a nearby chair, trying not to acknowledge that he’s naked without it.This guy owns the mountain. Get your shit together.

“So…uh, what’s bothering you?”

“Excuse me?” His voice sounds amused instead of offended, thank goodness.

I call up my training, trying to sound clinical instead of curious. “Where do you carry your tension?”

“My neck.”

“Any other problem areas you want to focus on? Injuries I should know about?” I squirt some oil into my palm and rub my hands together to warm it up.

“Blew my knee a few years back.” Comes the muffled reply.

I make a mental note to start gently around that area in case there’s any lingering scar tissue.

Taking a deep breath, I try to shake off my infatuation.This is your boss, Sloan. Your career. Don’t blow your shot just because he looks like a Greek god sculpted in a boardroom.

“Okay, let’s get started.” I place my hands on his back, and the resulting electricity threatens to make my knees buckle.

Chapter two

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