Page 70 of Wedlocked

“What are you even doing in here?” she asked, still clutching the sheet to her lady bits.

“I’m being romantic.”Wait. “Woman, are you not wearing a bra?”

“That’swhat you’re worried about right now?” she intoned.

I pointed to her naked chest accusingly.

“I thought I was being attacked!”

“I thought you’d have a bra on.”

She glowered. It was pretty cute. “I was getting a massage.”

“Naked.”

“I’m not naked. Do you wear a shirt when you get a massage?”

I sniffed. “That’s different.”

Her eyes narrowed, and when her head tilted, the bun on top flopped sideways. “How?”

“Maddie,” I implored. “I’m trying to be romantic.” We needed less talking and more kissing.

She sighed. “Seriously, how did you get in here? Where is the woman who’s doing my massage?”

“I tied her up and put her in a closet.”

Maddie gasped.

Gullible.

“You didn’t.”

“You were in here without a bra. Damn right, I did.” I nodded, succinct.

She stared. “Jamie Michael Owens.”

“I flashed these baby blues and a few C-notes,” I replied. “She appreciated my attempt at romance. Unlikesomepeople around here.”

“This is ridiculous. I was really hoping for a massage.” She pouted.

I was so weak for this girl. I mean, she’d done nothing but yell at me, flash her bits to other people, and act disappointed I’d showed up, but look at me… wrapped around her finger.

“Look at these big hands,” I said, holding them up. “Perfect for giving my girl a rub down.”

She pursed her lips.

“C’mon, on your stomach. Let me work my magic.”

She glanced at the door. “The masseur really isn’t coming back?”

“The masseur is already here.” I pointed to myself. “Unless you want me to go find her and she can bring her spaghetti-noodle arms and weak hands back in here.”

She giggled under her breath and rolled onto her belly. I saw a flash of boob. I liked it. But, bro, all the more reason to keep Helga out.

What’s that, bro?

Yeah, I made it up. No idea what that lady’s name actually was.

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