Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“If you could just fill this out for me…”
He makes no move to take the clipboard. “Soph, I just want to get on your table. Can we skip the paperwork?”
I don’t know why my nipples get hard because I’m fuming inside. Of course, he comes in and bosses me around. These guys make their own rules–that’s how it’s always been.
I flush, my heart thudding against my chest as if he pointed a gun at me rather than embarrassed me.
“Sure. Okay.” I stand. “Take your clothes off and lie face down on the table. I’ll go wash my hands.” I escape the room, sucking in deep breaths as soon as I’m outside, as if he’d taken up all the oxygen in the room.
Beautiful devil.
I don’t know why I find him so attractive. Scratch that–I do know why. He’s panty-melting hot. Tall and muscular with broad shoulders and a square jaw. He even has one of those dimples in the middle of his chin.
But I shouldn’t find that alpha male macho thing such a turn-on. It offends me. He’s not my type at all.
Personal attraction aside, I don’t like rekindling any kind of relationship with my father’s former employers. It makes me downright queasy.
I wash my hands and give Joey a few minutes before tapping on the door and pushing it open.
“Oh. Jesus.”
Joey followed my directions and lay face down on the table, but he’s on top of both sheets.
Which means I now have a full, unfettered view of his entire, very naked, backside. The man is pure thoroughbred with more sculpted muscle than Michaelangelo’s David.
He lifts his head to look at me. “What?”
I’m suddenly overcome by the need to giggle. “You, um…” I try to hold it in. “You were supposed to get between the two sheets.” I reach for the door handle to retreat again. “I’ll give you another–oh.”
He swings his long legs off the table and stands, giving me a full frontal view now.
“Joey!” I choke and turn my back, but not before the sight of his body’s Adonis-like sculpted beauty is forever branded on my mind.
Holy…um…wow. Just…yeah. Oh my. He’s the finest specimen of manhood I’ve ever seen.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I don’t know how this works.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I say quickly, although I’m not even sure what I’m sorry for. I’m definitely more embarrassed than he is.
I wait until the sound of his movements have quieted, then turn around and straighten the sheet over him.
“Would you like to listen to music?” I ask, although it’s hard to imagine he’d be into my usual meditative flute and chant fare.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you usually do.” His voice reverberates around the small room, the rich tones over-filling it the same way his presence does.
After turning on the music, I fold the sheet down to his waist and drink in the sight of his sculpted, naked torso as I dispense lavender-scented jojoba oil into my hands.
“What part of your back is bothering you?” I use my soothing murmur, the one I always employ in the treatment room, so making conversation is as soothing as being touched.
“Low back,” he grunts.
He flinches when I touch his shoulders, his muscles only growing tenser. “Does that hurt?”
“No.”
I wait for more of an explanation, but he doesn’t give one.
“How’s the pressure?”
“Fine.”
I work over his shoulders and upper back, then slide my thumbs up the taut ropes of the muscles that run alongside his spine. He only grows more tense. Getting him to relax might be an impossibility. A man like him lives in danger every day of his life.
I glance at the pile of neatly-folded clothing he left on the chair and note the gun carefully placed on top.
I lighten my touch to see if I can get him to give up the tension. No dice.
I hold his trapezius between my fingers and thumb and gently shake. “Give this to me,” I tell him.
“Huh?”
“Let go.” I keep vibrating. “Let me have this.”
Finally understanding, he releases his tight grip and loosens the muscles.
“That’s it,” I purr, my fingers sliding over his skin, coaxing even more tension out of him.
I may not have wanted him here, and I may never want him to come back, but I can’t deny how pleasurable it is to touch this beautiful man–the object of all of my teenage fantasies.
I hate the LaTorre Family and want nothing to do with them, but Joey LaTorre gets a pass. He was kind to me when my life fell apart, and I won’t forget that.
I work my way down, finding the place he injured by the giant ball of muscles. I’m careful with the area, using energy in the tips of my fingers to kickstart the healing before I attempt to unwind his lumbar and QL muscles. When he finally lets go, I move lower, tucking the sheet between his legs to reveal one buttock and leg.