Page 4 of One Night to Fall
“Wren, be nice to your brother,” she scolds. Beau and Lake chuckle, Harlan is grinning, and Reid is looking anywhere but at me.
“Suckers,” I mouth to them, the smugness melting away the second Mom turns back to me.
“So, Jesse, did you see those dog pictures I sent you? They’re all up for adoption…”
And there’s karma.
What a bitch.
3
JESSE
True to her word, Wren texts me the next day to confirm my appointment withAdrian.Despite my sister working at the spa, I’ve never actually had a massage before. I stretch and go to the gym—I’ve even gone to a couple of yoga classes over the years. But having someone rub oil all over my naked body when there’s no promise of a physical release sounds like a very specific circle of hell I’d rather not visit.
Still, no amount of stretching or time with the heating pad has sped up my recovery. I’m too young to be this hurt after a fall.
So fine, I’ll try the massage and pray I don’t embarrass myself.
The bell on the door chimes as I pull it open, the sound more like a cheerful gong than anything else.
“Oh good, you made it,” Wren says with a smile as she comes around the corner and greets me at the front desk. “You’re all set. Adrian is in the back so I’ll just bring you to the room and he’ll meet you in just a minute.”
Turning on her heels, she leads me down the hall, the warm gray walls and mixed media both aesthetically pleasing and soothing.
Pausing outside the second room on the left, she waves with a flourish.
“Thanks,” I tell her, peeking into the room.
“Don’t be a baby,” she teases, giving me a small shove until I cross the threshold.
“I’m not being a baby. I just think it’s weird.”
“It’s not weird. Try to relax, okay? I know this isn’t usually your thing, but I think it’s going to help.”
“I’ll try,” I tell her, squeezing her forearm as she turns to leave.
“Oh, good, here’s Adrian now. I’ll see you later,” Wren says before slipping out of the room, as someone steps into it and shuts the door.
My eyes widen in surprise as I stare at the man before me, the man whose only acknowledgment is a flash of recognition in his gaze.
Son of a bitch.
“Adrian.”I repeat the name Wren gave me, the sound foreign on my own tongue because that wasn’t the name he gave me.
And it certainly wasn’t the name I was groaning into a pillow as he fucked me from behind in his hotel room.
Or when he was blowing me later that night.
Fuck.
“The notes I have say that you were involved in a situation at work that left you with lower back and leg pain?” he says, the picture of cool, calm, and collected, the bastard.
“That’s what we’re doing?” I ask, widening my stance and crossing my arms over my chest. I hate games and this feels like one. There’d been no power struggle that night, our generalbuilds evenly matched. I’d submitted to him because I wanted to.
Exhaling audibly through his nose, he blinks and then blinks again.
“I’m at work.”
