Page 22 of Love and History

Uh-oh.

Not okay.

It was meant to be a celebratory gratitude kiss with an element of humor. A joking around sort of gesture, if you will. I wasn’t sure why I thought it would be funny. It wasn’t funny. It was…

Electrifying. Thrilling. Intoxicating.

His lips were soft and supple—a perfect contrast to his rock-hard body. And his skin was warm to the touch. He emanated heat and sex and…I was incredibly turned-on. Not to mention confused. I didn’t know how to break the connection and return to normal. But I had to do something.

“I’m sorry,” I stage-whispered. “That was—”

“A distraction technique,” he intercepted in a gravelly tone. “You’re really trying to throw me off my game. Well played, Shakespeare. I still won fair and square.”

I could have kissed him all over again for letting me off the hook. I wasn’t sure I was in the clear, so I followed his lead and tried to act cool.

“Ha. Yes, a distraction, but you didn’t win yet. There’s still another day to go.” I gestured to his clothes and the towel scattered on my floor. “And you made a mess, so maybe I didn’t lose.”

“You cheated. That’s an automatic L. Admit defeat and kneel before the king.”

“That will never happen.” I snorted derisively. “But I concede. You are the victor. What do you want?”

“We agreed to four hours of you doing whatever I want.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Within reason.”

He straightened his right leg and wiggled his toes. “Okay, let’s start with a foot massage.”

“Next.” I made a buzzer noise, willing myself not to touch my lips.

I kissed him. That really happened, didn’t it?

“A neck massage,” Ezra suggested, oblivious to my inner turmoil. He tilted his head from side to side. “I’m stiff.”

We engaged in an awkward standoff of sorts. I thought he’d back down, but I should have known that Ezra was the kind of person who could turn anything into a challenge.

“Okay. A ten-minute massage takes an hour off our contract,” I pronounced, cracking my knuckles.

“Yeah, fuckin’ right,” he huffed sarcastically. “What, are you gonna make me come or something?”

Ezra froze and gave me an “I can’t believe that came out of my mouth” look. Perhaps I should have let it go, but I was already too churned up.

I shoved his shoulder and hopped off the bed. “What is the matter with you?”

He held his hands up in surrender, a boyish grin fixed on his too handsome mug. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be good. I’ll consider taking off twenty minutes.”

“Half an hour,” I countered, motioning for him to sit on the floor.

“Deal. But sit behind me on the bed, so we’re both comfortable.”

“All right. I’m setting my timer now,” I said before kicking my shoes off and climbing onto the bed. Kneeling behind him, I dug my thumbs into the ropy muscles between his neck and shoulders.

Ezra winced. “Ouch. Go easy, man.”

I growled. I shouldn’t have been touching him at all.

The feel of his warm skin sent shockwaves of awareness through me. My fingertips zinged a “hot guy alert” warning. It wasn’t enough to remind myself this was Ezra and that Ezra bugged the heck out of me. He made me laugh too and for some reason, his presence was oddly comforting tonight.

I could almost forget that I’d kissed him, and no—I would never forget that.