Page 90 of Kneel with the King
The group trickles down the ladder one pair at a time, boots crunching in the snow. When it’s our turn, I take the rungs fast, grateful for solid ground. My legs still feel like they’re shaking when we hit the snow-packed ground.
I start to unclip my harness, but King steps in, fingers brushing mine as he takes over the buckles. “You’ll tangle it by doing it that way,” he says, like I’m five.
“I’m perfectly capable?—”
“Uh-huh,” he says, ignoring me entirely as he works. The harness slips free, and before I can grab it, he slings it over his shoulder along with his own, as if carrying my gear is the most natural thing in the world.
We fall in step with the others for the walk back to the lodge. The facilitator is still chattering about tonight’s activity, but I barely hear it. King’s right there beside me, his pace matching mine without thought, the harnesses bumping lightly against his back with each step.
It’s nothing. A small thing. But this all feels… easy. Too easy.
I keep my eyes on the path ahead, telling myself it’s just because we’ve been forced into close proximity all week. Telling myself it won’t feel like this when we go back to the city.
Telling myself a lot of things.
The King’s Touch
Asher
I’m halfwaythrough taking my boots off when King comes in holding a folded flyer.
“Couples massage in an hour,” he says casually.
“’Kay.”
He chuckles, sitting down next to me on the bed as he unties his boots. “You sound super excited.”
“I don’t like people touching me,” I admit. “I’ve never been a massage person.”
He hands me the flyer, and I glance at the words on the page. “It’s just you and me, Harrison.”
Couples Massage Connection Workshop.
“Learn the art of touch with your partner in this guided, hands-on workshop,” I say slowly. “No strangers. Just you and your other half, taking turns giving and receiving relaxing massages with complete privacy. All materials provided. Comfort clothing recommended.”
“I do give really relaxing massages,” King offers, leaning back on his elbows and looking at me with hooded eyes.
Abort!
Abort!
“Um, yeah. I’m not that great at it.”
“That’s okay. I can teach you,” he mutters, eyes flicking between mine.
Why did I take my shoes off? I need to get out of here.
Looking back over at King, he looks…toocomfortable.
“I need a shower,” I say quickly, hopping off the bed and walking into the bathroom quickly. Shutting and locking the door, I sit down on the closed toilet seat and sigh heavily.
This is all so fucked.
Turning the shower on, I wait for the water to get hot before taking my clothes off and stepping inside. Steam curls up around me as the hot water beats against my back. I press my palms to the tile and breathe, trying to rinse away the sudden heat in my skin that has nothing to do with the shower temperature.
It’s just a couples massage. People do them all the time. No big deal.
Except it’s King. And King’s hands. And me lying there pretending not to notice how good they feel.
