Page 18 of Buying the Bride

He looks at the oils in my hands, then up at me. I can see the muscles in his shoulders tense up even more.

“Relax,” I say, and put several drops into my hands and rub them together to warm them up. I stand behind him and start to knead his shoulders with my thumbs.

He lets out a quiet moan, then says, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

I work over his shoulders, up the sides of his neck and down his back until he starts to turn to putty in my hands.

“This would be easier if you were lying down,” I say. “Let’s go on the couch.”

“My bed is probably better, it’s more comfortable than that couch. The thing is built for looks, not comfort.”

I pause. His bed? I think he realizes just how it sounds and quickly says, “But I’m sure the couch will be fine.”

“No, let’s go to your bed,” I say.

I follow him to his room. It’s nothing special. Everything is plain, gray, boring. It needs a woman’s touch. He definitely has the bachelor vibe going on.

“Lay on your stomach,” I tell him.

He does and I climb on the bed, kneeling beside him. It’s not a very comfortable position to be in, and it’s hard for me to really dig into the muscles of his shoulders, so I straddle his butt instead. His back tenses up when I do that.

“Relax your muscles,” I whisper to him.

Finally, after kneading his shoulders some more, he starts to relax. Eventually his entire body loosens up. His skin feels delectable under my fingertips, especially at the small of his back. His ass looks nice and firm, I’d like to massage it too, but I don’t dare. I wonder if he can tell how hot I am between my legs, and wet. I’m sure when I get up there will be a wet spot on the back of his pajama bottoms where I’d soaked through my panties.

“Can you take these off so I can rub the backs of your legs too?” I ask, pulling at the waistband of his pajama bottoms.

“Um, I could, but I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

“I’ll grab a towel,” I say and go into the bathroom attached to his room and get a towel.

When I get back his pajama bottoms are off. He’s holding them in front of him, and he’s looking at the wet spot I left on the back. His eyes meet mine and I know he knows what caused it.

I pretend not to see it and hand him the towel. His Adam’s apple dips in his throat as he covers himself with the towel and drops his bottoms to the floor.

“Lay back down,” I tell him.

He does, and I start to work on his long legs, moving my hands from the base of his butt down to his feet where I spend a lot of my time. Even his feet are beautiful. Does this man have a single flaw?

I’m so turned on now that it feels like I wet myself. I should probably stop before I do something, or touch him somewhere that will change everything. “You can get up now.”

“I can’t, actually,” he says.

“Why not?”

Did I rub too hard? Did I hurt him?

“I have a bit of an embarrassing situation happening beneath this towel.”

I smile. He should see the embarrassing situation happening on the front of my panties. “I hate to break it to you, but I’ve seen your situation before, after we kissed in the park, and trust me, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

He rolls over onto his back and manages to keep himself hidden by the towel. Sure enough, there is a situation. A very large situation. Without the cage of his suit pants to contain him, I see that he’s much bigger than I originally thought, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the mound hidden by that damn towel. I want to throw it off and expose him.

“You know my face is up here, right?” he says in a teasing voice.

My face is as hot as a kiln. I can only imagine the unflattering shade of crimson it must be.

“I’m sorry, it’s just been a while since, you know … and your skin, my hands, that chest …” I’m just spitting out random words, hoping they come together to make sense.

The way he’s looking at me is not helping matters. He’s looking at me the same way I feel myself looking at him, and we’re both turned on and there’s nothing but that pesky towel, my panties, and a moral dilemma to stop us.