“Huh?” Her face scrunches into a cute, confused expression. “You want me to walk on your back?”
“Well, yeah,” I say with a nod, suddenly realizing myself how just the thought of her touching me—with her feet, her hands, her lips; I don’t even care which—makes my heart ache and my palms sweaty. “It’ll work out the kinks.”
She smiles ridiculously and shakes her head—I fight the urge to reach out and pull her down on my lap; the image of her bare thighs around my waist, my hands hugging the curvature of her ass … Breathe, Luke … just breathe.
“I’m not walking on your back.” She sort of laughs the words out.
“Why not?” I cock my head to one side.
“Well, I think I’m a little too heavy to be walking on your back,” she says as if I should already know this. “And because it’s weird?” It was more a statement than a question, but something else she thinks I should already know, apparently.
God, she’s so fucking cute.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who wears a size zero and thinks she’s fat.”
“No! I’m not one of those,” she defends. “I just don’t want to hurt you!”
I laugh without restraint.
“OK, well, you’re not going to hurt me. I can promise you that.” I get up from the couch—with pretend difficulty—and step around Sienna and the coffee table and then lie on my bare chest on the floor. “Come on. It’ll really help me out a lot.” One side of my face is pressed against the rug as I look up at her at an angle. She stands over me with her flimsy arms crossed—I grow even harder beneath my shorts.
“No, Luke.” She laughs. “I’m not going to do it.”
“Yeah you are,” I say casually and wave my hand at her as if there’s nothing to it. “The only way you can hurt me is if you jump up and down really, really hard. Now, get on.”
“No.”
“Please?”
She shakes her head repeatedly, her smile growing.
I break out the big guns.
“It’s the least you can do for me letting you stay here for free and have my bed.” I grin slightly, which I imagine looks strange with my cheek smashed against the floor.
“No!” She laughs out loud. “I’ll sleep on the couch from now on if that’s the case.”
With me? I want to say—and almost do—but restrain myself.
“No you won’t,” I tell her sharply. “What kind of guy would I be if I made you sleep on the couch while I was all sprawled out on the comfy bed? Now, step on and start walkin’.”
“You’re crazy.”
Absolutely, one hundred percent, no-going-back crazy for you—I admit it.
I scoff. “OK, then if you won’t walk on it, sit down and use your hands instead. You can’t hurt me like that for sure.”
That seems to have shut her up for the moment. I smile up at her, searching her face for the meaning behind her expression, and come to the conclusion that she’s a little embarrassed. That, too, I use to my advantage. Because aside from that whole gentleman thing, I’m an ass sometimes, and I happen to enjoy it.
“It’s either walk on my back,” I taunt her playfully, “or … sit on my ass with your naked thighs straddling my sides and rub with your bare hands, allll ooover, until you get the kinks out of all those sore muscles.”
Her face would be beet-red if she didn’t have a light tan.
I break into a smile, unable to contain it for long.
“All right, fine,” she says and steps onto my back carefully. “But if I hurt you, you better tell me.” I feel the other foot press into my muscles and my body melts as her weight presses against me and pushes me harder against the floor.