Page 21 of Over the Emerald Valley
“Yes.”
“Then of course I’ll rub your head.”
“But do you think you could manage to do it in a nonsexual manner, as we’ve established there will be no hanky-panky?”
“I think I can manage that, yes.”
“Then don’t you think, maybe, I could manage such a feat as well? Or are you really that much better than me?”
Solon blinked slowly. “This was a trap.”
“Not even a particularly good one. And yet here we are.” Temaj sat up against the headrest and placed a pillow over his crossed legs. “Put your head in my lap. I’m good at this, honest.”
With a long sigh of the suffering, put-upon variety, Solon acquiesced, dropping his head into Temaj’s lap.
“Where does it hurt?” Temaj smoothed his hair, thick and still damp from the wash, from his forehead. It would be soft when it dried.
“Low. The back of my head, at the base of my neck.”
“I may need to massage your shoulders as well, then. Do I have permission?”
“Yes.”
“Close your eyes.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“No. Stare at the ceiling if you’re so keen on being disagreeable.”
Solon closed his eyes.
“Thank you.” Temaj got to work, beginning gently, moving his fingers in slow, soothing circles over Solon’s scalp.
In this position, it was impossible not to admire his handsome face. He had lovely arched brows, even when relaxed, prominent cheekbones, and a finely shaped jaw.
When Temaj made it to his temples, Solon parted his pink lips on a silent sigh. Beneath the sheet, he moved his arms, resting his hands on his stomach.
The general hadn’t lied when he’d said he was scarred. Up close, Temaj saw little wounds, healed over a slightly lighter shade than the rest of his skin, scattered on his face, neck, and shoulders.
A serious-looking scar cut a jagged line across his collarbone. What had happened? It must have hurt. Temaj was tempted to ask for the story but resisted. Solon must be at peace for the massage to work best, and war stories wouldn’t help.
With care, Temaj added more pressure, moving his hands to the source of the ache. Solon tensed with the natural urge to lift his head rather than have another bear its weight.
“You must relax. Try taking deep breaths. Count to five as you inhale, then again as you exhale. Think of your muscles loosening with each repetition.”
To Temaj’s surprise, Solon didn’t fight his instructions. Rather, he began the deep breathing, relaxing his neck and letting his head rest in Temaj’s hands.
Temaj used the weight of him in his favor. He pressed up along either side of his spine and drew long lines down the tendons of his neck.
At Solon’s shoulders, Temaj encountered knots. Rocks and boulders making their home in the poor man’s flesh. One by one, he eased them loose until his fingers tired, but he didn’t care. It was such a pleasure to be helpful. He would continue until he was satisfied he’d done all he could do.
A toe-curling moan escaped Solon’s lips, surprising both of them if the look on the general’s face was anything to go by.
“Right there, huh?” Temaj repeated the movement. Deep strokes of his thumbs into the meaty terrain of Solon’s shoulders.
“Yes.” The word dragged with a breathy hiss. “No one has ever rubbed my shoulders, not like this.”
The admission brought forth a shocked little gasp from Temaj. “No one? No former lover? Another soldier, perhaps?”
