Page 124 of The Holiday Clause
Why did those words hit like a punch to the chest? No one had ever said that to him before—not in a way that felt true. He’d spent his entire life being the one who took care of others, who solved problems and fixed things. The idea that someone could take care of him, that he could let go and trust someone else to hold him together, was both foreign and desperately needed.
Swallowing hard, he prayed to every deity that his enthusiasm remained hidden.
Think of hunting. Think of fishing. Think of her dad. No, wait—don’t think of her dad. Shit.
The massage started light, her palms gliding over his back in long, fluid strokes like silk against skin. She pressed down, slow and even, tracing along his spine, then out to his lats. Restraining a moan was difficult.
Did other people moan in these sorts of situations? Was this always so…sexual? He didn’t liked the idea of her doing this to other men.
“Your paraspinals are working overtime,” she murmured, breath teasing softly down his spine. “I can feel the tension along your erector spinae, especially the left side.”
Wait ’til she discovered the tension in the front side erector…
“I’ll start loosening up the surrounding fascia.”Wren discussing anatomy should not be this sexy. Every word out of her mouth unlocked a new kink.
As she kneaded into his lower back, her thumbs pressing into that deep tissue, a groan slipped out.
“Painful?”
He tried to say something but a strangled, “Mmf,” escaped. Between the pinched nerve and his crushed dick, he was dying.
“That’s your QL. It’s definitely angry. You’ve probably been lifting with your back instead of your legs. I’m going to hold sustained pressure for a minute and let the muscle release on its own.”
She used her forearm now, leaning into him with the weight of her whole body, her tits pressing like soft pillows along his bare skin.
He curled his hands around the edge of the table, digging his fingers into the padding, white-knuckled. She pressed into the ache and held—for a solid thirty seconds he couldn’t breathe—then the pressure gave way and a subtle release occurred. Heexhaled, shocked by how quickly she had located and eased the pain.
“Good.” Her hands slid higher, thumbs working through the tight cords of muscle near his spine. She paused at the base of his neck.
“You’ve got some tension buildup here. I’m going to try some cross-fiber friction to loosen it up. You’ll feel it more sharply, but it’ll help break the cycle.”
Cross-fiber what?
She applied pressure in short, deliberate strokes against the grain of his muscles and he hissed in a breath. The sensation brought a good pain, the kind that made him want to flip over and kiss her senseless.
“Does that feel good?” she whispered, mouth close to his ear.
“Yes,” he rasped, his body a knot of tension, the kind that needed other care to cure.
“Good. Now, breathe with me.”
He matched her rhythm without thinking.Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
The room heated. Everything smelled like soothing herbs and Wren. Her hands kept moving, firm and skilled. In some ways, she knew his body better than he did. The realization that she could read him so completely, that her hands could find and heal places he hadn’t even known were broken, left him feeling exposed in ways that had nothing to do with his nudity.
“I’m going to do some pin-and-stretch on the glute medius now.”
Glute what now?
She lowered the sheet and his asshole clenched. If she saw, she made no comment. Her fingers anchored deep into the side of his hip, and his spine tightened. No one had ever held him in such a vulnerable position.
“Try to relax.” She moved over his tight muscles with controlled precision. The sensation burned, but in a tolerable way. The combination of everything she performed started to unravel him from the inside out.
His body slowly loosened as she hit some pressure points that literally knocked the breath out of him, making space where pain had resided for longer than he could remember.
“You should keep a standing appointment, Greyson. For a man who works with his body as much as you do, I should be seeing you in here at least once a week.”
“’Kay.” His body existed in ecstasy, making it difficult to utter more than a simple syllable.
