Page 110 of Captivated

“Which idea?”

“I could give you a rub.” He placed one calloused hand on Nate’s shoulder, the weight firm and grounding. “Might help.”

Nate stilled, his heartbeat quickening.

“You don’t have to.” The words came out as a croak.

“I know I don’t.” Zeeb paused. “But I want to.”

When he fell silent again, Nate knew he was waiting for consent.

“Go for it.”

Zeeb grabbed a cushion and dropped it to the floor in front of him. “Park your butt there.”

Nate chuckled. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a real way with words?”

He snickered. “Not that I recall.”

Nate slipped off the couch and sat cross-legged on the cushion, his hands clasped in his lap

And with that, Zeeb began.

He pressed his thumbs into the tight knots at the base of Nate’s neck, slow and sure. His hands were rough, callused from work, but steady. The pressure was just right, painful but in a good way, the kind that promised release.

Nate expelled his breath in a long exhale, dropping his head forward.

“Oh dear God,” he muttered. “I didn’t know I was carrying all that.”

Zeeb didn’t answer, but kept working, sliding his hands down the ridges of Nate’s shoulder blades, then lower, his fingers kneading the broad plain of Nate’s back.

When he paused, Nate twisted to look at him. “You’re not done, are you?”

“Your shirt’s in the way.” Zeeb moved his thumbs lightly down Nate’s spine. “You should take it off. It’ll feel better without it.”

Nate hesitated, but only for a moment. Zeeb had seen him naked, for God’s sake. He reached for the hem, pulled the sweat-stained tee over his head, and tossed it aside.

The room was so quiet, Nate couldn’t even hear Zeeb’s breathing.

Then his hands returned, bare skin on bare skin this time, and the difference hit him instantly. Nate inhaled sharply through his nose, and Zeeb’s hands slowed, his touch more careful. Each pass of his palm seemed to linger a little longer than it should, tracing the dips and curves of Nate’s back.

Don’t stop.

The warmth of Nate’s body beneath his hands was addictive, as was the feel of smooth flesh, the smell of him that lingered in Zeeb’s nostrils.

Fuck. This was something new, a sensation he wanted more of.

“You always run this hot?” Zeeb kept his voice low, trying for lightness.

“Only when someone’s got their hands all over me,” Nate blurted.

The air felt charged, prickling the skin on Zeeb’s arms. He let his hands still, resting them on Nate’s lower back, his breathing ragged.

Then he realized Nate’s breathing matched his own.

Zeeb’s heart pounded.

“I ain’t tryin’ to start nothin’,” he said quietly.

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