Page 41 of Handling Skylar
“It’s a little bit funny. I have to say it was worth the price of admission to see Miss Prim and Proper covered in mud.”
She grinned like a demon. “It was.”
Something shifted in me, setting off a funny churning in the pit of my stomach, my heart felt like it rolled over, then melted into goo. This woman had me wrapped around her little finger.
I wasn’t willing to identify this feeling right now. Everything was so new and fragile. I was struggling with very complex and life-changing emotions and decisions. It could simply be transference, but the feeling was so strong and intense, I almost couldn’t breathe for a moment.
She reached for a bottle on the nightstand. “Flip over,” she ordered.
“Yes, ma’am.” I replied and rolled onto my stomach, resting my head on my folded arms.
“This is a special massage bar I made with you in mind. Its bumps help with the massage. I call itHottiebecause it has black pepper oil and ginger that warm the skin. The rich jojoba oil and butter base is made with an aeration technique to melt into the skin quickly for relief. I hope you like it.” There was such affection in her voice. I needed her touch—as if I’d been deprived of it for so long that I couldn’t get enough of it now. And she was going to touch me in a way that was all about relieving my discomfort. Stroke after stroke. She would replenish me.
Straddling my hips, she slowly smoothed her hands up the length of my back, her fingers skimming over my skin. “I love the way you touch me, babe.”
“I love touching you. I’m going to give you a back rub to ease those aching muscles and slowly, thoroughly massage away your weariness.”
She caressed and stroked me, telling me through touch alone just how beautiful she thought I was.
Dragging her hands down my back, she aligned the heels of her hands along the base of my spine, then moved them in a slow, massaging tempo, the movement dragging a low groan from me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed her slow, sensual, seductive kneading, my pulse growing thick and heavy.
The next thing I knew, I awoke hours later from a disjointed, confusing dream, my heart racing and lungs tight. For an instant I didn’t know where I was. Oddly enough, it was the empty space beside me that registered first, and I scrubbed my face and tried to rid myself of the last dregs of sleep. Finally, fully awake and realizing that Sky was gone, I threw back the covers and sat up.
I found her on the screened in porch at the back of the house, standing motionless as if she shared a secret with only the trees and the creatures of the swamp. The night shadows and the silvery cast of the moon played with her form. The ambient light cast an eerie glow, the long dark fall of her hair standing out starkly against the white silky robe she wore like the fingers of mist that drifted ghostly across the dark water.
The night sang around us, a chorus of frog song and insect accompaniment. The mysterious sounds that only a wild place could generate as the sweetgum and tupelo stood as silent sentinels.
Resting my shoulder against the door frame, I folded my arms across my bare chest, thoughtful as I watched her. I studied her for a moment, then said, my voice quiet, “What’s up, sugar babe?”
I could tell by the way she stiffened before she turned that she hadn’t heard me come in. She stared at me, then gave a shrug. “Nothing, I just couldn’t sleep.”
I continued to watch her, trying to read her face in the faint light, aching to comfort her. “Yeah, sugar, you got some waterfront property on the bayou you want to sell me, too?” I said chastising her lie.
She stared at me for several moments, then she rubbed her upper arms and looked away. Finally she spoke, her voice soft and uneven. “You were trying to keep a low profile, avoid scandal and here I am tussling with Anna Kate outside of Outlaws in a mud puddle.” She rubbed at her face and groaned softly. “I just forgot this was a small town and this will be all over, grist for the gossip mill. People do love to talk here.”
“Yeah, sugar, and you gave them something to talk about.” Recognizing the significance of her disquiet, realizing what was happening, I watched her from the doorway.
Rubbing her arms again, she turned to the night, her body tense. There was a long pause, then she said, her voice so soft I could barely hear it, “I don’t mean to make this a bumpy ride, Varsity. I’m just being me.”
It was all I could do to remain where I was. “And being you is going to cause me problems, scandal?”
She nodded her head, then slipped her hands up the sleeves of her robe. I waited, my belly in a knot. It took her a while, but she finally answered. “I’m rough and tumble, more a tomboy than a lady. I don’t cotton to traditions and high falutin’ ways.” She hesitated, then continued, a touch of wry humor in her tone, “I’m more down to earth than Anna Kate.”
The knots in my gut suddenly let go, and I dragged my hand down my face. For the first time, I was getting to the meat of my hang up. Massaging my eyes, I eased in a deep breath, then looked at her. “No kidding, sweetheart. That isn’t exactly a shocker to me. Tumbling Anna Kate into a mud puddle is exactly your style and, even with the gossipy threat, well worth it.”
Sky turned and slid her hands into her pockets, and even in the shadowed porch, I could see the hint of a smile. “Should I take a good girl oath? Promise to comport myself as a proper Southern Belle?”
I returned her smile, but watched her like a hawk. “Not on your life. I want you to be you. Although, with assault very real. Maybe you shouldn’t rumble…”
She raised her head, her face mutinous. “She started it.”
“Then just say na-na-na-na-na you landed me and stick your tongue out at her.”
She looked at me, her eyes dark with doubts. “Landed you? Jake…”
Straightening, I closed the distance between us, never taking my eyes off her. “I didn’t mean to make you sound like a gold digger.”
“I’m not and I think you know that. It’s not what’s bothering me. We grew up so differently and everything happened so fast, Jake. I wanted to be a port for you in this storm, but I don’t want our relationship to get muddled up. Maybe we’re both reacting to the pressures we’re under. I want something real with you and I’m worried that the circumstances are dictating our interaction.”
