Page 25 of Wrong Idea

“Shit,” he rasped, and I lost his blue gaze. Car pressed his forehead against mine. “You’re so fucking sweet. Too sweet, baby girl.”

“I’m not,” I whispered. His dark blue eyes opened and watched me for a moment. There was so much going on, but I couldn’t read him. Yet, for some reason, my heart rate started to pick up pace. Something in his stare felt like a lot like what I felt when it came to him. something so beautiful and scary I couldn’t get myself to ask what it was about. I simply sat and kept rubbing his aching hands, hoping to somehow make him feel better.

“My hands hurt because I want to touch you. Will you let me, Max?” he asked softly, and I didn’t have to think. I simply nodded. He stood and pulled me up.

“When I walked into that room,”—his voice sounded deeper, almost hoarse—“I just saw your back. I hadn’t even seen you, yet I knew. I fucking knew you were different. Special.” I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying.

“Car.”

“Then you turned and spoke and stole my heart.”

“Baby—“

“You can tell me to shut up, that I’m moving too fast, because not much scares me in my life, Max, but the idea of freaking you out or scaring you away terrifies me. It keeps me up at night. Meeting you, being with you made me realize I don’t know how to go slow. How to date and play shit cool.”

“Daddy.” My hand moved to the center of his chest, and I could feel his heart thumping away crazily below his flannel shirt. “What is it? Why are you so nervous?” I asked, not sure, but that’s what it felt he was. Like he was worried about something.

“I was in the wrong room,” he blurted, and I blinked.

“What?” I didn’t move. I could hardly breathe as I tried to process what he had just said.

“I walked into the wrong room that day. I was trying to avoid someone, and there you were.”

“What?” I heard what he was saying, but he wasn’t making any sense.

“I let you have the wrong idea about me. I’m not masseuse. I’d never given a massage to anyone before that.”

“You’re not? You hadn’t?” My eyes widened and my hand clenched around the material. “But you said you started a new business.”

“I did, so to speak, but it was you who assumed it was a massage business. I just… I didn’t correct you,” he admitted.

“But you… I took off my… what?” He wasn’t making sense.

“You asked me to stay,” he groaned.

“I thought you were my masseuse!” I exclaimed.

“I know. I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“Car…”

“I got this“—he pointed at the table behind him—“to make it up to you. I’ve been looking up how to give a proper massage and?—“

“Wait…” My eyes shut, and I shook my head. I should have been scared. At the very least felt some kind of way. I had been basically naked around him. He’d had his hands all over my body and let me think he was a certified professional. But I wasn’t. I opened my eyes,, and they landed on the table.

A massage table he had gone out and bought.For me.

Massaging techniques he had been learning.For me.

“You did all this… for me?” My voice softened, and he licked his lips.

“Don’t make me sound chivalrous. It’s totally for selfish reasons. I’ve been dying to get you back on a table so my hands could explore your body again.”

“Again, all you had to do was ask,” I whispered.

“Baby, I need you to know?—“

“Shh…” I whispered, falling deeper in love.

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