Page 60 of Tempting Wyatt
She sighs deeply. “I wish. I need to comb my hair out, or it will be a tangled mess in the morning.”
I’m betting it still hurts to lift her arms. I don’t know how many stalls she mucked or how many bales of hay she moved this week, but anytime me, Isaac, or Antonio gave her a task she handled it like a champ.
“Tell me how, and I’ll do it.”
“You don’t have?—”
“I know I don’t have to. Just let me,” I say before she can finish. “Please.”
I don’t know if I’m doing this for her or to assuage my own guilt, but I am going to take care of her tonight if it kills me.
“I had to grab these at a store on the way here,” she says, handing me a tube of leave-in cream conditioner. “I, um, forgot mine when I was packing. Just a small amount will do.”
I squeeze some conditioner out of the tube and rake it through her hair before using a wide-tooth comb to detangle it. She’s right; her curls would’ve been a mess in the morning.
Next, there’s some sort of mousse stuff, and then she instructs me on how to scrunch her hair in my hands.Then we work together to braid her hair loosely. She says it keeps it from knotting up in her sleep.
When I finish, she smiles at me in the mirror, and I smile back.
As awkward as this should feel, I like taking care of her. Much more than I should.
“You’re good at this,” she murmurs at our reflection.
“Oldest of six,” I remind her. “With two sisters, I’ve had some practice.”
She’s moving a little better since the bath, but I don’t miss her wincing when she tries to walk toward the bedroom. I lift her in my arms again, doing my best not to ogle her body when I lower her to the mattress.
“Lose the towel and roll over onto your stomach,” I command gently.
She does so without hesitation, and the dominant wolf in me growls hungrily. With her beautiful, bare backside on display, he wants to take.
But I’m here to give.
Grabbing the lotion from the nightstand beside the bed, I squeeze a generous amount into my hands. I rub them together to warm the lotion before massaging it into her back and shoulders. I start out gently, but the deeper into her tight muscles I press, the more she moans.
“Oh my God,” she mumbles with her face half in a pillow. “That feels amazing. If ranching doesn’t work out, you could totally be a masseuse.”
I grin even though she can’t see me. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Making my way across her shoulders, then down her neck and spine, I debate on whether or not to go below her waist.
I shouldn’t. But, fuck, I want to so badly that it feels like a need.
When I feel the sides of her breasts on my fingertips, I nearly lose focus.
My vision blurs. My cock has been hard for so long that it’s a wonder there’s any blood flowing to my brain at this point.
I vow not to bethatguy. I’m not going to be the guy who massages her to get something for myself. This is for her. Only for her. To relieve her aches and pains and maybe give her some pleasure.
The thought has me squeezing the firm flesh on her perfectly round ass before I can stop myself.
She’s so quiet that I wonder if she’s asleep.
Even if she is, I’m finishing what I started so she won’t be in pain tomorrow.
Using my thumbs, I rub deep circles into the back of her thighs. Continuing down her legs to her petite little feet, I smile at the pale pink polish on her toes. My hands appear freakishly oversized next to her petite features.
My tiny pink Hollywood princess. Except she’s tougher than I expected a princess to be.She handles my bullshit with a smile most days. Works hard, is kind to everyone. Not at all like the high-maintenance piece of work I expected her to be.
