Page 29 of Fly Boy
My X-rated fantasies are becoming too much for the small room we’re in, the temperature rocketing, making me sweat. Thinking about my hands all over Wyatt, rubbing into his skin, feeling his muscleseverywhere,has me squeezing my legs together and biting my lip hard. I close my eyes and focus on breathing, swallowing down the naughty urges that are whispering for me to turn my head.
I want just a glimpse—just a second to look at what I’ve been dying to see under his shirt for the last four months.
“Oh god,”I mouth as he groans, getting onto his bed, the sound doing inappropriate things to me.
“Ready,” Wyatt grunts from beside me, and my stomach drops with something a cross between disappointment and guilt.
Yeah, because you were going to creep on the man who is clearly uncomfortable right now, but you missed your chance.
Warm hands land on my back, pressing lightly down, following the line of my spine to my legs. My eyes flutter shut, a groan slipping from my lips, and she’s barely started. I don’t know which of the two is working on me, and I don’t care because their hands feel amazing.
“Is this pressure okay?” the feminine voice asks as her fingers dig into my trapezius muscle.
“That feels unbelievable,” I breathe, my body slowly unwinding from today and what feels like years’ worth of tension stored in my shoulders.
“You’re very tight here,” the other girl says, and Wyatt grumbles some semblance of a reply.
“Is there anywhere you’d like me to focus on?” my masseuse asks as she finds a knot at my shoulder blade. My mind is mush, eyelids heavy, and my breathing has evened out as magic is worked on my body.
“Oh, god, right there,” I pant, quick to close my mouth as I forget how to swallow. I am in heaven, and my angel is calledElsa or Jessie. I moan, long and breathy, the sound close to dirty, as she finds that sweet spot between pain and pleasure, every muscle becoming pliant under her touch.
I hardly register the agitated sound of a sheet being thrown off, the squeak of the bed beside me, and the urgent, “Sir. Wait, sir…”
“No, nope, I’m out,” Wyatt protests, and I barely have time to lift my head before the door to the treatment room slams shut.
Jessie stands in shock, her oiled hands held out in front of her as she stares at the ruffled sheets. Her worried eyes flit to the door and back, her mouth gaping like a fish out of water. “I don’t know what happened. I just started working on his shoulders, and then he… he just… left.”
“Should we go after him?” Elsa asks, her hands hesitating against my back that I want to wriggle to get her attention.
Sighing, I shake my head. And here I thought I could help him relax. “Don’t worry about him. It wasn’t anything you did wrong. I promise.”
I offer them both an apologetic smile as Elsa leans down so she’s eye level, her green gaze soft as she checks, “Would you like to still continue?”
“Hell yes.” I drop my head back into the hole as she laughs, resuming her work, leaving me to wonder how exactly I’m going to deal with Wyatt when this is done.
Chapter Eleven
I press my backto the door and my hands to the front of these ridiculous swimming trunks Phillipa gave me. My heart beats wildly beneath my ribs, my pulse thrashing in my ears as my skin overheats, the tops of my shoulders still covered in oil. What was I thinking? Joining a fuckingcouple’smassage with someone I cannot stop thinking about. Inappropriately.
I groan, knocking the back of my head against the wood as a man wearing the hotel’s logo and carrying a bundle of towels walks past. His smile falters as he looks at me from over them. “Is everything okay, sir?”
“Pool,” I say, my tongue thick in my mouth. Clearing my throat, I try again. “I’m looking for the pool.”
He perks up, his eyes brightening as he gestures behind him. “Down the stairs and to the right. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks,” I mutter as he walks away, leaving me alone with the awkward situation currently in my shorts.
My nostrils flare as I push against my hard dick, the embarrassing reaction in response to hearing those little moans and mewls from the girl lying practically naked in the bed next to mine. I was a live wire, ready to blow the second she dropped that robe right in front of me and stood there, hands on her hips, confidence coming off her in waves in the smallest bikini I’ve ever seen.
I knew it was a bad idea from the second I realized—a little too late—that we would be in the same room. But she was trying so valiantly to get me to stay that, against my better judgment, I couldn’t say no. What’s one more line when so many have already been crossed today?
The touching that I shouldn’t have done when she was panicking on the plane.
The lodge that we shouldn’t be sharing, which, quite frankly, even the least romantic man can tell is a haven for couples.
And now, a massage that required us to be around each other wearing what is essentially underwear. So many boundaries skirted around, ones that employer and employee should never cross in less than twenty-four hours.
Pushing off the door, I shuffle toward the pool, hoping that somewhere in this high-end spa, I’ll find one of those ice baths I can drown myself in. I don’t pass a soul as I travel downstairs to the lower level where the changing rooms are, cursing myself for not grabbing my uniform when I left abruptly, too nervous that the poor girl massaging me would see my impromptu erection.
