Page 29 of Mine to Share

Shit, did someone kick the heat on in here?Pulling at the collar of my blouse, I shook the thin material to cool my too-warm skin.

“Well, yeah.” I dropped my hand and put both beneath my thighs to keep from fidgeting. “But don’t worry. I know you don’t see me that way,” I said in a rush. “This isn’t me trying to latch on to you like a spider monkey.” That ill-timed mental picture of me literally leaping on him, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist and holding on tight sent a fresh wave of heat flashing through my veins.

“Anyway,” I drawled with an uncomfortable chuckle. Moving to sit up straight, I stretched both hands high in the air, fingers wiggling. “I might need to borrow a few of those pills you take. My shoulders are killing me today.”

“Hmm, I have a better idea. Come over here and I’ll see if I can help.” Curling a single tattooed finger, he beckoned me closer. Which, of course, I did immediately because I had zero willpower around my forever crush. As soon as I was within reaching distance, he gripped my hips and shifted me to stand between his spread thighs. “Now sit, and I’ll massage your shoulders.”

Right. Sit. Between his thick, muscular thighs and not spontaneously orgasm.

My extensive education said that wasn’t possible, but with the way my core throbbed at our proximity and his intense stare locked on me… well, science might be wrong, because I had a feeling I’d combust the second his skin touched mine.

Palms pressed to his knees for support, I gently lowered to mine, shooting Slade a quick glance up through my lashes before twisting to put my back to him and plopping down onto the rug.

Breathing labored, muscles tighter than they were when I initially complained about the pain, I waited, staring at my desk. I jolted along the rug, breath catching in my dry throat, when his heavy hands dropped to my shoulders. Scorching heat from his calloused palms instantly soaked through the soft material of my top, making my nipples harden beneath the lace bra.

Holy shit, this is happening.

Slade fucking Taylor is touching me.

Platonically, but still.

“You okay with this?” His voice seemed to rumble against my skin, making me suppress a full-body shiver. “Rain?”

“Yes,” I whispered. Though “okay” was not how I felt.

Ecstatic. Turned on more than I ever had been before in my life. About to pass out because my lungs suddenly forgot how to do their fucking job.

All of that worked better than “okay.”

The rough calluses along his palms snagged on my blouse as he shifted his loose grip, angling his thumbs between my shoulder blades. Delicious pain radiated outward as he applied pressure, carefully digging into the muscles. A pitiful, guttural moan vibrated in my throat as the pain shifted to relief, the tight knots slowly easing beneath his talented fingers.

“Holy hell,” I whimpered, no longer caring what he thought of my sounds and words. “Please don’t stop, ever. Follow me everywhere I go and just do this, all day, every day.” His hands shook as a low chuckle sounded in my ears. “You missed your calling. You’ve barely touched me and it’s the best massage I’ve ever had. Though I’m not telling a single soul about this talent of yours.”

Scooping my long hair into one hand, he swept it to the side, draping it over my shoulder to give him better access to the base of my neck. Goose bumps sprouted at the direct contact as he worked his magic. My head drooped forward, and all worries of the creepy note, serial killers, and intrusive thoughts vanished.

Time ceased to exist as I soaked up the unexpected gift of blissful silence in my head.

“Why haven’t you ever talked about this ex of yours?” he asked, shattering my peaceful bubble.

My brows pulled together. “What made you think of him?” Though I had a feeling I knew the answer to my question.

“Jameson.”

“Why were you two talking about me and my ex?” The tension from earlier crept back in at the thought of them discussing me.

“He wanted to know if you were still with him.” Slade cleared his throat. “I think he wanted to know if you were single or not.”

Oh.

Well, okay, now I was totally fine with them talking about me.

“I never mentioned Josh because we don’t really talk, Slade. Like ever.” Or touch, even by accident, which made this current moment beyond atypical. Though I wasn’t complaining, because my recurring fantasy of his hands on me finally came true. Sure, they were caressing my shoulders instead of much lower, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

And for Slade’s touch, I’d be a beggar all day, every day.

Well, between autopsies.

His thumbs dug into a knot, making me hiss at the sudden burst of pain. “We talk,” he grumbled. “Almost every day.”

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