It’s not like I was ogling. I was just… distracted. Any normal human being would see movement overhead and take in his surroundings. It’s… astuteness.
‘Don’t worry,’ Joe says, offering me a hand to help me up. ‘She only laughed for a minute.’
Ignoring his hand, I let my arms fold across my face as I moan. ‘Hettich, I need to get off this island.’
‘Not you too. How many massages is this old flame going to cost me?’
Then he walks away and I know there’s no getting out of this. Tomorrow, I’m going sailing with Carrie. Stuck together in an ever-smaller paradise.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
12
CARRIE
‘You feel very tense, Carrie,’ Greta says as she digs the heel of her hand into the really painful space between my scapula and spine.
You don’t say, is what I’m thinking. But politeness dictates I respond with, ‘Oh really?’
I had a dip in the infinity pool whilst the masseuse was setting up in my pod and I was doubled over in hysterics watching Luke get walloped in the face by a soccer ball. I could hear Taylor Swift in my mind bellowing out the lyrics to ‘Karma’.
Still, not even that release could untie the knots in my shoulders, which is hardly surprising, since Joe basically told me I’m in Alcatraz for at least the next twenty-four hours until he can get a jet here to pick me up because even if I find some convoluted commercial route to get home, I need him to at least get me to Tortola.
I wince as Greta digs deeper into the irritable muscle. ‘You have a myofascial trigger point here,’ she says. ‘You hold your stress in your shoulders.’
I’m sure I hold it everywhere, I think as I go rigid with each grind of her knuckles deep under my skin. There’s not a part of me that isn’t trying to curl into the fetal position to stop the pain.
‘Greta, would you mind going a little easier on me? I’m a big baby when it comes to pressure. I’m all about the relaxation.’
‘Sure, sure. It’s your massage; you tell me how you like it.’ She softens her touch and adds more oil, now gliding her hands across my back, exposed by the towel that she’s folded down to the globes of my ass.
I’m on a massage bed on the veranda of my pod and through my cushioned face cradle, I can see the orange hue from the setting sun reflecting on the edge of my infinity pool. It’s a luxury to have an outdoor massage, hearing the sound of the ocean and chirping birds, the air still warm on my skin, incense burning around me, hanging in the still, humid air.
‘That’s amazing,’ I mutter, my body finally relenting, relaxing for what feels like the first time in weeks. Possibly months. Suddenly remembering that I haven’t taken a break from work in… I can’t even remember how long.
My eyes tire of watching the gentle swish of the pool water, my eyelids closing under a hefty yet invisible weight. Greta takes heated stones from somewhere and with one in each hand, slides their hot, smooth surface across my oiled body.
I drift to somewhere semi-lucid. Not awake, nor asleep.Mmmmmm… it’s so good.
I could count on my fingers the number of massages I’ve had in my life. I try to place them – the location and when – but my mind is slipping into somewhere it doesn’t want to be challenged.
Falling deeper, enjoying being indulged, one memory preys on my weakness. I was lying tummy down on Luke’s bed, a sheet barely there between our naked bodies. He was straddling me, his weight across me, as his oiled hands moved down my neck, thumbs teasing my collarbones, across my shoulders, along my spine, around my hips, tantalizingly close to where he was making me hottest.
He was exploring my skin, moving with the ease of silk, the warmth of velvet, and I was relishing his touch. We hadn’t been seeing each other long and when he suggested massages, I’d expected to feel exposed, vulnerable, but I didn’t. I felt wanted, cherished, when his pupils widened until all but a slither of blue outlined the darkness at the sight of me nude, as his fingers lingered on areas of my body that no one else had ever uncovered.
He brought goosebumps to my skin, my entire nervous system reacting to what felt like a deliciously teasing warm-up to the main event.
His hands moved down to the small of my back, his thumbs rolling over my plump flesh, masked by only his thin cotton sheet. He rolled his hips so that I could feel him against me, feel that he was gearing up for something more too.
As he drew his palms up each of my vertebrae one-by-one, his body followed, until his torso was pressed to my back and his lips connected with the sweet spot just below my ear lobe.
I could feel that he’d hardened against me, I felt his breath like fire on my neck, and I groaned with desire.
‘Luke…’ As his name leaves my tongue, I remember where I am. Mortified, my eyes fly open and I spring up on the massage bed. ‘Holy crap, sorry, Greta. I— Oh God, this is humiliating.’
If I were a man, there’d be a very stiff rod between my legs right now. If there is one thing I can be grateful for in this hideously embarrassing moment, it’s that I amnota man.
Greta is giggling behind her fingertips. ‘Don’t worry about it, girl. It happens all the time. You’re relaxed and massage can evoke happy memories.’