Page 69 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
I stare at her.“Famished.I’m fucking famished.”And when she doesn’t answer, I lean closer on the couch where we’re sitting, my knee brushing against hers.
She shifts slightly, the cushion dipping between us.Her finger traces an invisible pattern on the armrest, her eyes briefly flicking to my mouth before darting away, reminding me of that look she gave me almost a week ago, right before she pulled me down to her.
“That’s code for ‘I really want to eat you,’ Foster.”
“I got that, Harrison.”She chuckles and the sound has me grinning at her like an idiot.
There’s a knock at the door, but we don’t inch away from each other.
“Everyone visible?”Sally waits only three seconds before bustling in with food that looks like it belongs on a Christmas card, pancakes with cranberry syrup, a bowl of clementines, bacon arranged in a star pattern.“Thought you both could use something hearty,” she says with a wink, before slipping out.
Dorothy immediately abandons her sock to investigate the food, while Blanche lifts her head, alert at the prospect of bacon.
“No, you three have already eaten,” Eve says firmly, setting the tray on the small table out of canine reach.She glances at her watch and frowns.“I have to leave for work in twenty minutes.And get these troublemakers to daycare.”
“I can take them,” I offer automatically, despite barely being able to keep my eyes open.
“You’re basically sleepwalking,” she says, moving behind me.“Turn around.”
I raise an eyebrow.“Excuse me?”
“Your shoulders are practically touching your ears.”Her hands hesitate like she’s not sure I want her to touch me in any way that’s not professional.Or like she’s been rejected one too many times.
I see that shadow cross her face—that momentary doubt that shows she’s been taught to question her natural instincts.Without a word, I gently reach back and guide her hands to my shoulders, then look at her over my shoulder with a smile meant just for her.
“Eve,” I say softly, her name like a permission, an invitation.“Please.”
“I wasn’t trained to give massages,” she says quietly.“But I learned online when, um, when I couldn’t sleep.The nurses said it might help with the neuropathy in my hands.”She pauses.“Plus, my ex didn’t want me touching him unless I took actual classes.Said my touch was too...mechanical.”
Something hot and fierce rises in my chest at her words.I turn to face her, catching her eyes before she can look away.
“Foster,” I say, my voice rougher than intended.“There has never been a single mechanical thing about the way you touch.”I stand up and step closer, close enough that she has to tilt her head to maintain eye contact.“Not when you check your dogs’ water.Not when you bandage wounds.And definitely not when your hands were on me.”
Her breath catches, a flush spreading up her neck.But when she meets my eyes again, there’s something new there—a flicker of belief cutting through years of doubt.
“So yes,” I continue, sitting back down and turning to give her access to my shoulders.“I want your hands on me.Only yours.”
Her touch, when it comes, is anything but mechanical.Her thumbs press into knots that have been there so long I’ve forgotten what it feels like without them.
“When was the last time someone took care of you?”she asks, her voice soft but steady.
“That’s not how it works in small towns,” I manage, as her fingers work magic along my spine.
“That’s not an answer.”Her voice is quiet but firm.
I close my eyes, surrendering to her touch.“I don’t remember.”
Her fingers pause for a moment before continuing their path across my shoulders.“That’s what I thought.”
We stay like that for several minutes, her hands gradually coaxing the tension from my body until I start to drift.
“You need to eat, then sleep,” she says finally, moving around to face me.She grabs a plate and loads it with food.“I’ll take the dogs to daycare on my way to work.”
I reach for her hand, tugging her closer.“At least sit with me for a minute.”My voice sounds rougher than I intended, and I clear my throat.“Before you go.”
She studies me for a moment, then nods, glancing at her watch again.“Five minutes.Then I have to run.”
I reach for a clementine, peeling it with careful fingers.
