“Well, it’s not working,” I muttered, half growling. “You’re doing the opposite of relaxing me.”
“Oh?” His voice was all teasing now, smug and sinful. “You sound pretty relaxed to me.”
I twisted to glare at him over my shoulder. “I’m five seconds away from jumping your bones, is that relaxed to you?”
His grin widened. “Hormones acting up, love?”
“You have no idea,” I hissed, biting my lip as he smoothed both palms down my back, massaging low and deep. “Everything is sensitive. Everything.”
He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Want me to stop?”
“No.”
He chuckled again, and the bastard had the audacity to keep his hands slow. Torturously slow. Sliding from my back to the tops of my thighs, then back up. Not in a s****l way. Not yet. But deliberate. Intimate.
Caring.
It
