Page 12 of His Curvy Temptation

I sigh.

“Sorry,” I reply gruffly. “I guess shaking off the sympathy of others is a reflex. I resist it like it’s some kind of deadly disease. You’re fine. I’m out of line.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t ask you this but I can’t help it,” she says after a beat. “Why do you think you resist the sympathy of others?”

I think for a moment.

“I guess…I don’t really know why,” I say. “It’s just something guys like me do, I guess. I picked it up in the Marine Corps. The men I served with are like brothers to me, and I’d do anything for them. But damn if they weren’t some of the meanest guys I’ve ever known, too.”

“Mean toyou?”

“To me,” I say. “To each other. To everyone. Sometimes even their own wives and children, though it’s not like they meant to be that way.”

“Wow.”

I should quit while I’m ahead. I never talk about these things with anyone but for some damn reason, I can’t seem to stop running my mouth around Andy today.

Maybe it’s because she’s a beautiful woman.

Or maybe it’s because I’m face down, unable to see her face with her unable to see mine, too. There’s a certain anonymity involved…even when her hands are touching my bare skin all over my back at the same time.

Whatever. I’m not going to overthink this shit. Maybe this is what I should have done instead of all the therapy they made me go to when I got back home. Screw sitting on a couch talking to a doctor; just let me strip naked and lay down for an hour while a beautiful, soft, kind woman gives me a back massage.

“Weakness wasn’t tolerated in that world,” I continue. “Being strong was mandatory, because sometimes being strong was a matter of life and death.”

“I can only imagine,” Andy murmurs.

“The men around me were tough on me,” I say. Why the fuck am I sharing so much with her? She’s a stranger. A hot stranger. But still.

“Tough as in hazing?”

“No,” I reply. “I mean, we pranked each other sure. And there were fights, too. But it’s not a fraternity. It wasn’t hazing for the sake of it. It was training. The guys were tough on me, but it was for my own good. It was a safety thing. You had to learn to be tough, because one weak link could make the whole group suffer. Eventually I became just as tough as they were. It took me a long time to adapt to civilian life when I left. I was hardened…calloused, inside and out.”

Andy says nothing, falling into a thoughtful silence with me. I shake off the memories that are swimming in my mind, focusing on her touch, the tension in my muscles melting away.

“Maybe this is rude to say,” Andy says. “But the last place I expect to find a tough guy ex-marine is…well, in here.”

I smile.

“We’re everywhere,” I say. “But sure, I guess it’s probably weird to think of my past, seeing where I am now. Still, if you’ve ever served, I think it makes sense. You learn discipline and hard work. To power through obstacles and find creative solutions.”

“I guess overcoming adversity is a useful skill on the battle field and in the board room,” Andy says with humor.

“It is,” I agree. “It’s my competitive edge. And all I had to do to get here was bust up my shoulder a little.”

“I doubt that was the only price you had to pay,” Andy says softly.

I don’t reply.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “Now that definitely was a prying thing to say. Forget I said it.”

“It’s okay,” I say.

Except it’s not okay. In my endless blabbing to Andy I’ve accidentally stepped into forbidden territory. Things I don’t like to think about, much less talk to other people about it. The only person who hears about this shit is my therapist — and that’s only because I force myself to do it the way a person might force themselves to suffer through a needle in order to get their flu shot.

I breathe deeply through my nose and exhale slowly as Andy continues to work the muscles in my shoulders. It feels so damn good and I have to admit, even if I wasn’t so attracted to this woman, I probably would be requesting her as my new regular massage therapist from now on. The girl is talented at what she does, digging into my shoulders with her fingers like her life depends on it.

“Pressure is okay?” she asks. “Not too much?”

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