Page 54 of Rook

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Tessa

I’d been successful at avoiding alone time with Rook. I even managed to keep my distance when we went to the clubhouse to have Detroit’s food with his brothers and some of the women.

I managed that by showing up late, then going to hang out with the chickens or walking Murphy’s dogs after our meal.

And, of course, work came in clutch when it came to not being stuck in the tiny apartment with Rook all around, looking how he looked, conjuring up fantasies I had no business thinking.

By the time I finished up my last deliveries, fueled up the car, and grabbed myself something to eat, I was making my way into the apartment sometime after ten or so.

From there, it was easy to kill another hour or two by doing laundry and taking a shower before bed.

Was I exhausted? Down to my bones. But it was the only way I could stay away from Rook without it seeming like I was trying to stay away from him.

But with how bad my damn feet had been aching, I was starting to think that I should pick up some hobby or something that would keep me away from home.

The foot roller I’d bought had been helping but not quite alleviating the pain entirely.

Unlike Rook’s magic damn fingers.

The second Nancy left, I really should have climbed off the couch, put the distance between us again.

Because the second his thumbs pressed into my aching arches, there was no moving away.

At first, the touch was genuinely just comforting, pain-relieving.

It wasn’t long, though, before the sensation went from sweet to heated.

Was part of it pent-up sexual frustration from not even allowing myself to rub away the tension I’d been feeling toward Rook?

Sure.

But as Rook’s fingers went up my calves, I started to believe it was more than that. Deeper.

As he touched me, it occurred to me that it was the first time in my whole life that a man had touched me purely formyenjoyment.

Maybe to some, that wasn’t a big deal. But to me, it felt significant. To know selflessness from a man, to enjoy selfishly. My former life had never afforded me that luxury.

I was just coming to terms with that when Rook’s fingers found the backs of my knees.

And I damn near had a little O right then and there.

As it was, a needy moan escaped me and my legs parted in silent invitation for more.

No one could fault Rook for accepting that invitation.

His one hand flattened and traveled up my inner thigh. I had plenty of time to object, to think better of what was going on, of coming to my damn senses.

I did none of that.

I just let my eyes drift closed and focused on the sensations as—at first—he was just massaging my muscles.

But then his fingers were moving over my pelvis, teasing over the V above my sex.

I expected more teasing, more touching.

But, suddenly, Rook’s fingers were grabbing the waistbands of my pants and panties and dragging them down and off.

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