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“Get on the bed, face down.” Her tone exuded command. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a table at home.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I climbed onto my side of the bed, winging out my elbows and resting my head on my hands. I couldn’t see Melena behind me, but the bed shifted when her weight as she joined me on the bed. “Sorry if my oil is cold,” she said, and a few seconds later the cool liquid dripped on my back.

Next her warm hands skimmed my skin, and I bit my lip. This was a bad idea. Her warmth and weight next to me were too tempting. She firmed up the pressure and dug into the knots in my back, and I didn’t bother holding back my groan. She was trying to be helpful, but every second was torture. Would it be creepy to remind her how many days were left in her doctor’s instructions? I couldn’t concentrate on anything but her hands on my body. The firm strokes. Deep pressure. Blood rushed to my groin, and the overall effect was more arousing than relaxing. Not the intended effect.

She tortured me for a few more minutes before tracing her fingers lightly down my back and murmuring, “There. That should do it. Let me know tomorrow if you still hurt. I want to give you relief if I can.”

Oh, I hurt all right. Just not in my shoulders. I was rock hard, and there was no relief in sight. I groaned before forcing myself to thank her.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” she said. Was her voice throatier than normal? Or was it my imagination?

I considered moving, but my condition would be obvious, and I didn’t want to be that creep during a massage. Unfortunately, I was that creep. “I’m going to lay here a few minutes and let your work do its magic. I’ll follow you in the bathroom. Take your time.”

Please.I needed every second to calm my erection.

I eventually took my turn in the bathroom. I ignored Melena in the other room for the sake of my sanity and focused on enjoying the firsts. First time brushing my teeth in our new bathroom. First night sleeping in our new house. First time sharing a closet and dresser. I glanced at Melena settled on the bed, reading something on her phone, my old sweatshirt falling off one shoulder. She glanced up and our gazes connected across the room, heat flaring to life in hers as she traced my bare chest. There’d be a lot of firsts in this house.



















Chapter 15

Melena – Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang

Itossed and turned. The amount of unpacking we still needed to do was monumental, and my mind kept racing with all the things we needed to do to finish the move. I was spinning. And it had nothing to do with the lingering buzz of running my hands across Jimmy’s bare back. Nothing at all. Totally professional. Nothing to see here.

Who was I kidding? No one could work on that bare, muscled back and not get contact tingles. I was married, not dead. And I was married tohim. Tingles were allowed.

I was very aware of my husband breathing softly beside me. At least there were no neighborhood sex sounds to remind me of what I was missing. My brain was doing the heavy lifting tonight, picturing all the ways my massage could have led to sexy times. He could have flipped beneath me, grabbing my wrists as he tugged my body down to his. Hot. He could have rolled, pushing up with those strong arms, until we were face to face for a kiss. One quick flip, and he could have pushed me to my back, following me down until my body cradled his on the bed. I ached thinking about his warm weight.

I shifted restlessly, then held my breath as Jimmy rolled to his side. Was he awake? His even breathing resumed. Drat. Sleeping with him andnotsleeping with him was torture. I only had a few days of restrictions left. What would happen if I ran a hand down Jimmy’s arm and woke him up? Would he turn to me? Make some of my earlier fantasies a reality? My heart raced, and I rubbed my chest as the faster rhythm faltered. I sighed and tried to think calming thoughts. Stupid cute puppies. Stupid flowers in spring, dipped in dew, nodding in the breeze. Stupid waves crashing against the shore with hypnotic calm. My heart rate slowed, and I sighed again. Stupid heart. The irony was if I liked Jimmy less, was less invested in him, we’d probably be having sex right now. Because my heart wouldn’t be involved.

Instead, I tossed and turned, visions of Jimmy keeping me awake. Jimmy lifting me over his shoulder with a smile, carrying me over the threshold. Jimmy listening intently as Mark shared a story about his and Brenda’s first house. Jimmy’s smile at me over his coffee, that potent enough to melt me into a lusty puddle in my chair.

The remembered reaction made me squirm. I was adapting too quickly to his role in my life. My husband. The forced wait to take our relationship to the next level physically had me leapfrogging it emotionally. Staying independent no longer held appeal after I’d had a taste of him. It had been only a taste, but I was hungry for more.

I flipped again, searching in the dark. Searching my heart. Did sharing mine with him make me less me? Less independent? He hadn’t asked me to change. He hadn’t asked me to modify my schedule to match his or done anything to compromise my work. But still, he was changing me. I’d started scheduling clients around his shifts. I didn’t want to miss my evenings with Jimmy. I couldn’t afford to be rigid about my schedule and keep clients, but I found myself searching for excuses to spend more time with him.