Page 89 of Deep In Love
“Do you have anything that helps?”
His hands gently run over my back, up and down along my spine.
“I have a balm.” I scoot off his chest to grab the Tiger Balm I keep on hand. “It’s smelly.”
Mateo takes the small glass container and sniffs. He jerks back, surprised, before taking a deep breath. He’s smiling like he’s discovered something groundbreaking.
“It smells likeyou,”he says, clutching the container. “I could never figure out the scent. I only knew it smelled likeyou.”
My heart is doing this odd pitter-pattering thing, and it’s so strong I think the muscle might jump right out of my body.
“I got a whiff of it in a grocery store once,” he admits, smiling to himself, “and I searched for you.”
I slip into my pajamas so I can apply the balm, but when I try to take the jar, Mateo pulls it close to his chest.
“Can I?”
My head tilts. “Huh?”
“Can I apply it for you?”
Oh.
Words clog my throat, but I manage a nod and sit back on the bed, allowing my legs to dangle. He scoops out a small glob of the orange paste.
“Where do you need it?”
“Hip and knees.”
Mateo drops to his knees, spreads mine open, and smears the balm over the aching joint. He’s focused on his task, massaging my sore muscles and working the balm into the skin.
This is a different type of intimacy—one I’m not used to. His touch isn’t electric or meant to lead to more. It’s methodical and intentional, each stroke of his thumb meant to relieve pain and tension.
He moves from my knees to my hip, and I curl onto my side. I can’t help the groan that escapes when his thumb digs into the tension in my lower back. Mateo huffs a laugh while his hand lingers on the surgical scar along my hip, then taps my ass.
“All done,” he says, placing a soft kiss on my shoulder before returning the balm to my bag.
“Thank you.”
He stops to admire his work, and my heart skips a beat.
I’m so fucking screwed.
Chapter 26
Mateo
“Where’s Blondie?” Jett asks, looking around me for Charlie.
I rub the sleep away, forcing back nausea from the early wake-up and the mild swaying of the boat.
Jett’s camera gear and tripod are set up in front of two deck chairs, the ocean and the first rays of sun acting as a backdrop. Doug riffles through bags, pulling out wires and lights.
“Nice pants,” he comments as he passes.
I was only told I needed to look nice from the waist up. I’m wearing my nicest button-down shirt and a pair of joggers. Business on the top. Comfortability on the bottom.
Jett hands me a mug of coffee, and steam wafts off the top as I watch them methodically set up recording equipment. I will admit, I did not realize how much work Jett put into his videos.
