Chapter 1
Julie Stanford took a deep breath before shoving aside the curtain to walk into the massage room where Nathan was laid out in all his glorious, naked splendor. Of course, he would be on his belly, with a towel draped across his ass. His very tight, gorgeous ass.
He stiffened slightly as she moved closer, the roll of muscles across his back betraying him. Despite what he might try to portray, he wasn't immune to her. Not by a long shot.
Ah well, it didn't matter. After today, she was so moving on from her fixation with Nathan Tucker. She had fantasies to live, great sex to have, and ... Okay, she'd settle for great sex. No need to get carried away.
Humming to herself, she readied her supplies then turned to the feast of male flesh before her. Before, she'd always worked with his display of modesty and left the towel over him. She'd never pressed him to turn over so she could do his front, even though she knew damn well the only reason he refused was because he didn't want to get caught with an erection.
But today? She wasn't in an accommodating mood. Nope. This was her last chance to savor him, and she was going to enjoy every minute of it.
First thing she did was whip off the towel and toss it across the room. He jerked and reached blindly back with his hand.
"What the hell?" he muttered as he twisted and maneuvered, all while trying not to turn over.
She grinned and placed her hands over his shoulders to shove him back down to the table. He quieted immediately at her touch even though he went so tense that it would take her the better part of an hour to work out the kinks.
He wanted her. But for whatever reason, he didn't want to want her. And that irritated her. What was so wrong with her? It wasn't like she was a clinging vine, desperate for love and commitment.
The idea that he could be so appalled by his attraction to her stung.
Trying to tamp down her flashing aggravation, she concentrated on the smooth muscles of his shoulders as she worked over his tanned skin. Soon, calm invaded her as she lost herself in the intense pleasure of touching him.
She took her time, determined to make it last. After today she was resigning as his massage chick, and she was off to greener pastures, thanks to Damon Roche.
Okay, so she hadn't exactly talked to him yet. She'd wanted to give him and Serena time to sort out their differences before she hit him up. But he was a nice guy, and she was convinced he'd help her. Faith had been equally sure.
A dreamy smile curled her lips upward as she imagined the possibility of Damon arranging her sexual fantasy at The House.
When Nathan made a sound, she frowned and looked downward. She'd worked her way to his ass, and as soon as she began kneading his tight buns, he'd let out what could only be described as a strangled protest.
She wanted to laugh, and had to swallow hard to prevent it. She needed to snap out of her daydreams and get her head back in the now. Hell, Nathan Tucker was here, naked, under her fingertips, and she was fantasizing about getting it on with two other guys.
Her fingers trailed over the hard globes of his ass before she cupped and rolled the supple flesh under her palms. He made a desperate little sound that had her stifling the laughter again. Yet, he made no effort to stop her.
There was a light smattering of hair at the small of his back that trailed down the cleft, and she followed it with one fingertip. He sucked in a breath and went completely still as she teased the region between his cheeks.
Then, as if she'd never dared to push the boundaries of the massage, she traveled to his thick legs, caressing and molding the bulging muscles of his thighs.
Man, she loved touching him. It was addictive. He was supposed to be gaining the larger enjoyment from the massage, but she wasn't sure that was the case, because she was in heaven.
When she got to his feet, she spent several minutes massaging the arch and instep before finally traveling back up his body. Her mouth watered as she imagined following her hand with her tongue. But no. Not yet. She wouldn't show her hand before it was time. Even if she did have the strongest urge to lean down and bite him right on the ass.
His head was to the side, his cheek resting on the pillow she'd provided. His eyes were closed but there were lines of strain gathered at his temple. She reached down to smooth them away. Her hands slid across the smooth skin of his bald head, then to the base of his skull.
According to Faith Malone, Nathan had always worn his hair longer and shaggy . . . until the day he'd lost a bet with Micah Hudson and was forced to shave it all off. Faith had convinced him he looked hot with a shaved head and goatee and told him all he lacked was an earring to complete the look. She'd brought him to Julie's to pierce his ear, and so began Julie's obsession with Nathan Tucker.
And today would end it.
Impatient and ready to end the buildup, she pulled her hands away from his skin and stepped back. Predictably, he shifted and raised the upper portion of his body as he looked frantically for the robe he'd discarded earlier.
"Turn over," she directed calmly.
His gaze met hers, and she shivered at the intensity in his green eyes.
"No," he said. "Now where the hell is my robe, a towel, anything!"
She wouldn't laugh. No, she wouldn't.
"Turn over, Nathan."
There was steel in her voice, and he looked surprised by it.
"What the hell?"
"Afraid I'll see your hard-on?" she asked in an innocent voice. "Really, Nathan, I didn't peg you for a coward. It's not like an erection is uncommon in my male customers. Now turn over so I can finish the massage." She didn't add that it would be his last.
His eyes narrowed, and as if answering the challenge, he turned sharply, rolling his naked body until he was flat on his back.
Her breath left her in one gigantic whoosh. Holy hell in a bucket, but "hard-on" didn't do justice to the magnificent erection jutting from his groin.
Her gaze was absolutely fixed on his cock. She wanted to wrap both hands around it and stroke, touch, caress, and then she wanted to taste. God, she wanted to taste.
She did crude measurements in her head, because damn, he was stacked. Long and thick. She'd had good, but she'd never had this nice. Would be a damn shame if he didn't know what to do with it. Not that it mattered to her, because the time for that was over.
"If you're through staring," he grated out.
There was a hint of embarrassment in his voice, and she grinned before allowing her gaze to drift upward until it connected with his.