Winning Her Over Read Free Page A

the cherry on top.
    She leaned forward to fold the covers across his chest. He slammed his eyes shut again, but it was too late.
    An image flooded his mind, of dusky nipples close enough for him to lick, of the lightning strike of pleasure that would jolt her if he did. Cal couldn’t suppress a slight shudder at the thought.
    He swallowed hard. She was only massaging his shoulders and the tops of his pecs, but the desire that lanced through him still went straight to his groin.
    The masseuse paused. “Are you cold? I can turn up the heat, if that would help.”
    Was she serious? “No, thanks. I’m fine,” he gritted out. He was hot enough already. More than hot enough. It didn’t matter where she touched him now. Every nerve ending in his skin was at full attention and clamoring for more.
    He inhaled, filling his lungs as she moved to his right side and started on his arm. Then he exhaled in a slow, even stream, trying to relax. Or at least trying to give her the impression he was relaxed. He concentrated on breathing as evenly as possible while her fingers twined silkily with his, her thumbs rubbing little patterns into his palm.
    He did a fair job at maintaining the pretense of disinterest as she switched sides to attend to his other arm and hand. But the facade—and his breathing—grew a little shaky when she began to massage his pecs. Her thumbs grazed his nipples, which immediately tightened into traitorous little nubs. He wondered how much more he’d have to bear before his ninety minutes were up.
    When she covered his torso again with the sheet and blanket, he nearly sighed in relief. As frustratingly pleasurable as her touch was, the absence of it for a few moments was a blessing.
    Though her next move ratcheted his arousal right back up. She tucked in the covers on either side of his waist, then pressed inward, bracketing his hips with her palms. The small circles she made alternately pulled the blanket taut across his rapidly swelling erection and loosened it again.
    Cal stifled a groan, hoping his calm exterior belied his inner turmoil. He didn’t even want to strike up a conversation again because he’d just imagine her urging him to let it happen, let her make him feel good—
    Okay! Enough! He forced his tense muscles to loosen. That strategy sufficed until she shifted her hands to his upper thigh, working it through the covers, and all he could feel was her fingertips scraping against the edge of his pubic hair through two unwanted layers of material. Just a couple more inches, and she’d be palming his cock.
    It was getting more and more difficult to hide how turned on he was. Part of him was desperately hoping he’d make it through the remainder of the massage session without embarrassing himself. The rest of him was unrealistically wishing her hand would slip, or even that she might take pity on him and put him out of his sexual misery.
    Finally, she undraped one of his legs and began to tackle yet another set of knots there, and he could stop trying to will away his hard-on. He’d done it. He’d endured, and now he could concentrate on just enjoying whatever was left of the massage. Even though his dick remained unrelentingly rigid, and was probably at this very moment painting glistening trails of pre-come across his belly. At least everything else could finally relax.
    Eventually, his poor, neglected cock did, too.
    At last, the masseuse rearranged the blanket and covered him up once more, and he realized the session must be coming to an end. She stroked his face with gentle fingertips, from the center of his forehead out to each side. His skin tingled as he soaked up what had to be the last moments of her attentions.
    One warm hand cupped his jaw, and a ghostly impression of heat hovered just above his mouth. He knew he had to be hallucinating, yet his lips twitched, trying to pout into a touch, a kiss, that wasn’t ever coming.
    Before he could force his eyelids open, her hand pulled away