Page 110 of How to Lose at Love

“Um…no, that’s fine.”

He wiggles his shoulders. “Now about that back rub…”

“Oh my God, you’re the worst.”

“I might be the worst, but I’m sore as hell, and I’ll return the favor.”

He’ll return the favor? This perks me up. “You’ll massage me? Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

Not sure where to put my hands, I hover them over his shoulder blades before slowly lowering them to rest on his skin.

His hot, smooth skin…

His thick, strong neck…

He’s recently gotten his hair cut, dark hair a clean line.

My thumbs begin kneading the base, fingers digging in as deep as they can, over and over and over until they’re tired and I need to change position, flattening my palms and pressing them into his spine.

Up.

Down.

Dallas moans.

“Don’t you have trainers or something who do this for you?”

He dips his head in a nod. “Yup. None of them are as sweet as you, though.”

Sweet?

Ha.

He’s full of shit. “We both know I’m not sweet.”

“Probably not, but that’s ’cause you haven’t had the chance to be. You haven’t let your guard down yet.”

My guard? I don’t have a guard.

“I don’t have my guard up.”

“Sure you do. We all do, yours is just waitin’ for someone to shit on you again—the way Diego shit on you.”

My mouth falls open and my hands falter, sitting motionless on his skin.

Is he right? Did I put walls up because I’m waiting for a guy to come along and treat me like an afterthought because Diego did?

And here I thought it was the other way around. Here I thought Dallas was the one with his guard up, waiting for people to use him.

“Guess we have that in common.”

He agrees with my sentiment.

Again, I knead his back, hands sliding down his biceps then up again, massaging but also feeling him up if I’m being honest, the heat from his body warming my palms.

So hard.

So toned.

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