Page 22 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

“Thanks.”

“After you put away the foam rollers and bands, wipe down the table with some cleaning wipes. Then, you can go.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t forget to turn off the lights,” he adds.

With a salute and a cheeky grin, I reply, “Yes, sir.”

He watches for a few seconds as I gather up everything into my arms before he strides out of the room. Once everything is organized in the large metal cabinet at the back of the room, and the massage table is sanitized, I dig out my cell from my back pocket to check the time and find a message from an unknown number.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: So, when I leave this glowing review, do I mention the part where I couldn’t take my eyes off you, or should I focus on the way your hands felt against my leg?

A breath of laughter slips out of me. The guy’s a flirt. I’ll give him that much. Innocent flirting, I can handle. It’s the broody stares and snarky comments made by a certain someone that have a habit of getting under my skin.

The thought annoys me, so I shove it aside and begin typing my response as I head toward the exit when I smack against a hard, wet chest.

What the––?

My phone clatters to the floor as a pair of strong hands reach out and steady me. The grip is soft but firm against my elbows as I peek up at who they belong to.

It’s Theo.

A jolt of electricity inches up my limbs, making my heart beat faster and faster as I attempt to process what the hell just happened.

“I––” My fingers flex against his damp and very naked chest before I realize my hands are against Theo’s damp and very naked freaking chest.

I pull them away as if I’ve been shocked.

This is so embarrassing.

Avoiding his gaze, I look at the ground, and my jaw drops.

His towel is on the floor, and his penis is––

Holy. Freaking. Shit.

My head snaps toward the ceiling, my face the shade of cherry flavored Kool-Aid as the image of Theodore Taylor’s massive dick is imprinted into my memory for the rest of eternity.

“Oh my hell,” I mumble under my breath. Embarrassment and want and surprise and every other freaking emotion filter through my system like I’ve been given a dose of crack and it doesn’t know how to metabolize the stuff.

Is this seriously happening right now?

“Shit,” he growls.

As the curse slips past his lips, I can’t help but look at it again. His penis. It’s like it’s a damn lighthouse, guiding me to it. Demanding my attention. And boy, does it deserve attention. Theo’s hands drop from my arms, and he bends down, tearing the towel from the ground and wrapping it around his waist. But it’s too late. The damage is done. I’ve already seen plenty.

And I mean plenty.

Dazed, my gaze stays glued to his crotch when he finally looks up at me, his jaw tight. Like I’m the one in trouble, and he has every right to be pissed at me.

“I didn’t…” My voice trails off, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.

I didn’t…what? See anything? Oh, boy is that a load of shit.

I didn’t…stare? I guess it’s partially true, but only because I was too shocked to make a closer inspection.

I didn’t…mean to? To what, exactly? I did nothing. I was just walking and––

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