Sighing, she tugged on the sleeves and pulled the top over her head. Thank God she still had her bra on.
Easing onto her stomach, she balled the shirt under her chin. As the sharp smell of mint hit her nose, his warm hands rubbed into the sore muscles across her lower back first. The medicated rub heated her skin, penetrating deep. But the heat was nothing in comparison to the way his palms scorched her flesh as he moved to knead her shoulders. She kept focus on the way the massage made her feel and not on who was doing it. The more he manipulated the stiff muscles of her shoulders, the more she felt the tension leave her body.
Until he unclasped the back of her bra—then all the tension poured back in. She gasped. “Tommy!
What are you doing?”
His hands hesitated for a moment. “Rubbing your back.”
His tone made her annoyed at herself. He was just trying to make her feel better. It wasn’t his fault that unclasping her bra made her immediately think of sex.
She scrunched farther down onto the mattress, trying again to focus only on the massage and not the towering, dominating man who had his hands roaming over her naked back. It didn’t work quite as well this time. She could feel his warm breath on her neck as he bent over her and the gentle way he handled her, as if she were made of precious glass.
She inhaled, and her eyes drooped. She blinked a few times, astonished at her sudden sleepiness, thankful that the muscles relaxers had finally worked their way into her system. She gave a drowsy smile.
Well, if she couldn’t ignore him, at least she’d pass out.
His hands worked their way down the middle of her spine, then spread out to her sides. Again he kneaded every bit of tension out of her muscles, the mixture of meds and his lulling massage making her feel like a puddle of honey. She sighed, sinking deeper and deeper into the fuzzy shirt under her chin.
She needed some good, solid rest, so she could beat this thing and get back on her feet. Fast.
She couldn’t let him take care of her.
If she did, she might never recover from the damage he’d do to her heart.
Chapter 9
The soft, even breathing coming from beside him slowly penetrated Tommy’s dreamless sleep. He blinked open his eyes, immediately aware of the feminine body curled under the blankets next to him.
Julie.
He studied the ceiling before turning his head on the pillow to stare at the naked shoulder peeking out from under the covers, tempting him. On the rare occasion he woke up next to a woman, his immediate instinct was to get her out of his bed—out of his house. Or vice versa. He didn’t feel that need right now.
Not at all. It was quite the opposite, actually. He wanted to roll over to her side and wake her with deliberate touches. Kiss the beautiful skin of her shoulder.
Was that only because he hadn’t slept with her yet? Would that change the moment he did? If his past was any indication, the answer was yes. Then he’d lose her. If he did nothing, he would eventually lose her to someone else.
God, both outcomes scared the hell out of him. She scared the hell out of him.
As he glanced at her bare back again, he smothered a groan. He should’ve made her put her top back on last night. Thank God he’d had the foresight to re-hook her bra. After he’d massaged her shoulders for a few minutes, he’d glanced up to see she’d passed out. He hadn’t had the heart to wake her.
And he still didn’t. So he needed to get the hell out of this room. Before he did something he’d regret.
Or worse, that he didn’t regret…
He slid out of bed and glanced at the clock.
Eight thirty a.m.
Mac would be here in thirty minutes. He had called his friend last night while waiting for Julie to change into her fleece PJs. He wanted to do something special for her so she didn’t have to lift a finger today.
Cooking was not his specialty. Luckily, he happened to know a Michelin-star chef who loved to cook for others.
He gathered some clothes from the closet, then quietly called the dogs off the end of the bed and headed out of the room, closing the door behind them. After unlocking the doggie door and filling their bowls, he went into the bathroom and showered.
Just as he stepped into the living room, a soft knock came from the front door. Tommy cringed, waiting for the animals to start barking and wake Julie, but they didn’t utter a peep. As he made his way to let Mac in, he peered into the kitchen to see their bowls empty and not one dog in sight. God, he loved that doggie door.
Tommy ushered Mac in, who had two bags of groceries in his arms.
“How much do I owe you?” he asked, knowing nothing in those bags had been cheap. Not if Mac was making it.
Shaking his head, his friend set the bags on the counter. “My treat.” When Tommy immediately opened his mouth to object, his friend held up his hand. “No. Seriously. The last meal I made for someone else was Dante and Cait. I miss cooking for other people, so I really want to do this.”