Page 65 of Attached At Heart
Blake, however, remained unfazed. He averted his eyes as I slipped past him, staring out at the sea, a haziness in his gaze. He was apparently the sane one between the two of us, and I took a few deep breaths as I walked back into the house, trying to get myself to his level of unbothered. After all, we had a whole honeymoon left to get through; I couldn’t unravel the very first night.
When I returned to the hot tub with my full glass of wine, I retreated to my spot across from Blake, rubbing my sore neck as I lowered into the water, wondering if I could sink deep enough for the jets to hit my aching muscles. But when I realized it wouldn’t happen, I flopped back against the seat with a sigh.
“What’s wrong?”
Blake was watching me, a frown on his face.
I shrugged. “Just got a kink.”
“A kink?”
“In my neck, from sleeping on the plane.”
His attention dropped to my neck, studying it like he could heal me with his gaze. “Ah, so not the fun kind.”
I lifted a brow, smirking without meaning to. “And what do you know about that?”
His gaze flicked to me before he looked away. “Know about what?”
“Kinks.”
He rolled his bottom lip into his mouth before breathing, “We’ve never been the kind of friends who talk about our sex lives, Lane.”
“No,” I agreed. “Just the kind of friends who get married.”
Blake cracked a smile before chancing a glance back at me. “Touché.”
We fell silent; the only sounds of our conversation were the whirring jets of the hot tub and the more distant lull of waves. But my brain was anything but quiet. Blake’s words kept repeating in my brain.
We’ve never been the kind of friends who talk about our sex lives, Lane.
Friends who knew each other on the level that Blake and I did talked about that kind of thing, though. Maybe not in explicit details or on the level of sharing kinks, but tosomeextent, right? But I knew next to nothing about Blake’s sex life.
“Why is that?” I blurted out after a moment.
“What?”
“Why is it that we’ve never been the kind of friends who talk about our sex lives?”
Blake poked at the bubbles on the water’s surface. “Do either of us have a very active sex life to talk about?”
“Touché,” I muttered. “Even though you didn’t have to call me out like that.”
He shrugged. “I called us both out.”
His logic quieted my thoughts, but only partly. Maybe we didn’t have much of a sex lifenow, but surely that hadn’t been the case for the last decade.
“Here, turn around,” Blake said, motioning for me to spin in my spot. “Let me take care of that neck.”
I did as he said. Mostly because my neck was throbbing but also because I was worried if I didn’t, I’d start asking more intrusive questions that would threaten our honeymoon. But then I felt the pad of Blake’s thumbs graze the base of my neck, and I realized that him touching me was probably not going to make our situation better. I nearly opened my mouth to lie, to say it felt better, to claim I needed more wine, anything,anythingthat kept just a bit of distance between my already on-fire senses and my hot husband.
Before I could come up with an excuse, though, Blake dug his fingers into the knot in my neck, and a groan flew out of me. My body surrendered to his touch, needing the relief he was readily supplying.
“That the spot?” he asked, his voice sounding more carefully controlled than it had been minutes ago. I recognized it as a part of his concentration state, the way he sounded when he was dialed into something. I certainly hadn’t expected Blake to be this passionate about massaging my neck, but I wasnotcaring at the moment.
“Yeah,” I gasped as he dug in even deeper. “Right there.”
“Mmm,” he hummed. “Good.”
