Page 47 of The Wingman

oulders, breasts and stomach. Our relationship might be about sex, but this, whatever it is we’re doing here, I have never in my life felt so cherished and safe. It’s crazy how comfortable I am with him, how much I missed his touch when he was away. Truthfully, I’ve missed his presence. In such a short time, he’s become a huge part of my life.

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” he asks.

“What you found when you went snooping,” I say.

His chuckle rumbles against my back, and his fingers slide down my arms. “I love all the old furniture you restore. You have many talents.”

I bask in the compliment. “Thanks. I find it relaxing.”

“It’s good to have a hobby. When did you start?”

I think back for a moment. “I was out with my mom, going from garage sale to garage sale. One lady was packing up for the day. She had this gorgeous old rocking chair she was going to toss if it didn’t sell.” I shake my head, my chest welling up with the memories. “There was just something in me that nearly cried at that thought. Her grandfather had built the chair, and my mind instantly flashed to him sitting in it, telling stories to his kids and grandkids.” His hands curl around my stomach, and link together. “It’s strange, I know.”

“Not strange at all.” The rough pad of his thumb sweeps back and forth over my belly, pushing water away like it’s a windshield wiper. “In your eyes, it’s like the pieces have a life of their own, and you couldn’t stand to see that life destroyed.”

I sit up a little, and turn to see him. His eyes narrow as they latch onto mine. “I think that’s it exactly. I’ve never quite been able to put it into words before.”

“I’m smarter than I look,” he teases.

“Here I thought you were just all brawn and no brains.”

“You think I’m all brawn?” he asks playfully.

“That ego of yours.”

“One I can back up.”

“Yes, one you can back up,” I say and laugh, but it turns into a yawn. I sink back into the water and lay against his chest. I turn my head, wanting to feel his heart against my cheek. My lids close, and in my sleepy state, his voice sounds like it’s coming from a distance.

“You have this innate need to save things, all things. I can’t even tell you how much I admire that about you.”

My mind swirls, the darkest demons fighting for floor space as slumber pulls at me, compliments of the meal, the wine, the warm bath…the nurturing man caring for me.

“I couldn’t save him,” I mumble quietly.

Rider’s muscles go taut and that’s when I realize what I’ve said. Adrenaline pumps through me, and I jackknife upright. Water sloshes over the side of the tub. Dammit, I didn’t mean to dredge up the past, to bring painful memories to the surface. Not now, not with Rider. Yeah, we’re friends, but I can’t go there, and he doesn’t want to know about my past hurts.

I turn to him, and smile. “So, what was this about us just getting started?”

He stares at me long and hard, his eyes boring into me, and I try not to fidget. “Jules?”

“Yeah,” I say, and push myself to my feet to stand before him stark naked.

He scrubs his chin. “Jules, I think—”

“No thinking, Rider. Just feeling, remember?”

He goes still for a second, then his eyes clear and he gives a quick nod. “I remember.”

He pushes himself up, and my breath catches as water drips from his beautiful, hard body. His cock is still thick, and unable to help myself, I take him into my hand.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he murmurs, but inches back, moving from my reach.

“But I want—”

“You’ll get what you want,” he says and reaches into my cabinet for a big fluffy towel. He wraps me in it, ties another around his waist and carries me to my bedroom. My bed is neatly made, and he reaches for the bedding and tugs it down.

“Get in,” he commands, his voice soft, but firm. My entire body quivers as I slide between my soft sheets, excited to have the smell of him in my bed come morning. But I don’t want to think about morning, or how I know he’ll sneak away before sunrise. Although it’s for the best. I have my family coming for dinner, and he shouldn’t be here.

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