Page 49 of Hard Rock Deceit
"Selfish, I know. But you'll get something out ofit,too."
My fingers tingled at the idea of placing my hands on August, on being giving free permission to touch that smooth,firmskin.
He was right that I probably shouldn't have suppressed my anger. But it was also true getting mad wouldn't help. I could push it aside and focus on helping Augustthroughthis.
We exchanged positions, him taking the chair, me standing behind him. He moved to pull off his shirt andwinced.
"Does it hurt?" I asked,worried.
"Just a bit," he admitted. "The new stuff doesn't work as well as the oldstuff."
I didn't say,of course it doesn't. The old stuff was strong enough to put you in thehospital.
"Letmehelp."
Like a replay of that first concert, I tugged his shirt up and overhishead.
My breath caught, then exhaled nosily in disappointment. He was wearing an undershirt, covering his chest and back. His muscled, tattooed arms and broad shoulders were bare. I could enjoy that, atleast.
I placed my hands on his shoulders, near the curve of his neck, and started to knead with my thumbs, softly,gingerly.
"I don't really know what I'm doing,"Isaid.
August groaned, half-pleasure, half-pain. "Just keepdoingthat."
"I don't want tohurtyou."
"You couldnever."
I'd been this close to a bare-chested August before, but I'd never laid my hands on him this easily. I was able to stoke and rub and caress in any way I chose. It wasfreeing.
It was also arousing. This was supposed to be a soothing, healing touch, an innocent moment between us. But ever since that night on the roof, nothing between us had been innocent. The feeling of his warm skin under my hands inflamed the most secret partsofme.
The groans and moans leaving August's lips didn't help cool downthatheat.
Still, I tried to push those thoughts away. This was about August, notaboutme.
"I'm already feeling much better," he said with apleasedsigh.
"Does it hurtverymuch?"
"A little. Not all the time. As long as I take it easy I shouldbefine."
If he was fine, he wouldn't have needed drugs in the firstplace.
I didn't say anything. There were other questions I wantedtoask.
"In the hospital, you said something about a car accident. Was that the same one…?" I trailed off, giving him time to brush me off if he didn't want to talkaboutit.
He noddedslowly.
"Yes. The same one that killed myparents."
"You said you got away with only a few brokenbones."
"The strain on my shoulder was minimal enough it didn't show up at first. It's only when I overwork it that it becomes aproblem."
"I'm sorry," I said. "It must be hard. That constant reminder of whatyoulost."
