Page 12 of Save Me the Trouble
She didn’t back down. “Making you appear more approachable.”
“And if I’m not?” I rasped, feeling her tremble in my hold.
“Well, that’s a problem for a different…day.”She was going to say person.
I released her, channeling my focus to my lower half to keep my dick under control as she tugged off my tie and then reached for the top button of my collar.
I could’ve done it. I could’ve pushed her hands to the side and loosened my shirt around my neck. But I didn’t want to. Foolishly, I wanted to feel the slight brush of her fingers on my skin. The way they worked against my Adam’s apple to free the fabric. I just wanted a little taste of the thing I could never have.
“Better,” she murmured, unable to hide the husk in her voice.
Her eyes lifted to mine, and there was no mistaking the catch in her breath.
“Grace…” Her name sounded like…the very thing I’d never afforded myself after my arguably fatal mistake.
“Okay, now to loosen you up,” she said and took several steps back, pretending to size me up even though I could see the way her heart raced on the side of her neck.
“Isn’t this enough?”
She choked on her attempt to not laugh. “Not even close.”
I rested my hands on my hips and widened my stance. Pretty soon she was going to realize it wasn’t a stick up my ass but a steel rod in the front of my pants that had me all tensed up.
“I agreed to answers, Miss Johnson. Not this song and dance?—”
“That’s it!”
I stilled at her exclamation.
“We’re going to—stretch,” she said and placed her hand on my arm. “We’re going to stretch right over here by the windows.”
“Stretch,” I repeated, going along with it because I didn’t want her to stop touching me.
“Yup. Simple upper body stretches to loosen you up.” We stopped in front of the windows, the shockingly nice day painting the city in clear light. “Okay. Four stretches. Real quick. Just follow my lead.”
I looked at her, watching her arms stretch above her head and out to the side a little.
I inhaled slowly, making sure to let out a low sound of displeasure as I lifted my arms and mirrored her stance, brushing her arm in the process.
“And the reason we’re doing this in front of the window?”
“Why wouldn’t we? No one can touch you up here, Mr. Killian Crown,” she mocked gently. “You might as well make the most of it.”
I grunted. Making the most of it would involve far less clothes and a kind of stretch that required my body to be inserted into hers.
“And now this.” She bent her arms so that her fingertips touched the center of her head.
My jaw tightened. “I’ve never seen this stretch before.”
“Because you never attempt to relax,” she quipped and moved on. “And now to the side.” Her left arm rested along theside of her head, and her right arm lowered to curl by her side, almost like she was making the letter…
“And now for the final stretch. Hand touching above your head.”
Clever, Miss Johnson. Very clever.
I copied her movement. “And here I thought the YMCA was a dance, not a stretch.”
Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “Well, I can only imagine the argument I would’ve gotten if I asked you to dance.” She moved her arms through the letters again, and for some reason, I found myself still following suit.
