“It’s strange, but she looked shocked… and kind of sad.” Molly sounded like she was moving around as she spoke. “Thea says Abe’s been extra quiet and uncommunicative but that he’s staying stone-cold sober.”
“Good.” At least if drugs and alcohol were out of the equation, Abe and Sarah could finally talk. “Is that your other phone ringing?”
“Drat. It’s a work call.”
“Go grab it. We’ll catch up later.” After hanging up, she threw together a quick salad for lunch, then continued her reading.
Noah picked up dinner on his way back home from what had turned into an impromptu jam session at David and Thea’s, and they ate out in the garden—at his suggestion. He was really comfortable out there, Kit realized, another idea bubbling in her mind.
“So when’s this massage thing happening?” he asked an hour after dinner.
Surprised and happy he’d brought it up himself, she smiled. “You sure you want to do it?”
“Yeah. I bought this stuff.” Going into the house, he came back out with a bottle of organic vanilla oil for sensitive skin. “I figure your skin’s softer than mine.”
“It looks great,” she managed to get out, though her stomach was full of butterflies. The idea of having Noah’s hands on her, those guitar calluses deliciously rough against her skin…
Breathe, Kit. This is just a massage. That’s all it can be.
The point was to teach Noah that sensual touch didn’t always have to lead to sex, that intimacy could be built in other ways… that he could give her physical pleasure in other ways. The latter sounded selfish, but the things Noah had said, his behavior, it all pointed to the fact that should he be unable to give her pleasure, he’d take that as a failure on his part, and that failure could lead him to some very dark places.
Kit was going to do everything in her power to keep him from going there.
“Do you want to go first or shall I?” she asked after spreading out a blanket in the center of the living area, Noah having shifted the coffee table out of the way.
“I’ll do you,” he said without hesitation.
Butterflies in full fury, she nodded and, going down to her knees on the blanket, took off her T-shirt while Noah came up behind her. Her yoga pants, she was definitely keeping on. She didn’t know whether to take off her bra or not, decided to leave the decision up to him. “You can unhook the bra if it gets in your way,” she said as she lay down on her stomach.
Noah didn’t say anything, but she felt his warm, strong presence behind her, heard him twist off the cap on the oil, sensed him pour some onto his palm. Vanilla scented the air. Then his hands were on her, and the rough, warm feel of them brought tears to her eyes. She’d waited so long for him.
Noah put his hands on Kit’s shoulders, careful not to use too much pressure. She was so fragile in comparison to him, her skin delicate. He immediately found he couldn’t work properly from the side. “I’m going to straddle you. Okay?”
“Just don’t try to bridle me for a ride.”
Chuckling, he straddled her on his knees and ran his hands over her shoulders.
“Harder, Noah. I won’t break.”
He obeyed the request in small increments until she let out a groan at the sweep of his thumbs on either side of her spine and kind of went all lazy and loose-limbed under him. Realizing he’d found a sweet spot of pressure, he kept it up as he went down her back.
When he reached her bra, he unhooked the clasp and kept going. Her back was flawless, one of her best features. When she wore those dresses with a plunging back, he just wanted to stroke her like she was a cat. Today he had full permission, so he indulged himself.
“What about you?” she mumbled at one stage.
“I like doing you,” he said, running his hands up her back.
She moaned again. “’Kay.”