Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“I am tired,” I said. “Very tired. All of the tired.”
He blinked, and even his eyelashes seemed sexy, tonight. I really was too far gone, noticing things about him that I usually didn’t notice about anyone.
His voice was soft as he spoke again.“Let me guess. You thought you could be a hero again, do everything, and forget about taking care of yourself? And you only ended up sleeping a few hours?”
I shrugged. “You’re implying I got any sleep,” I joked.
Charlie furrowed his brow. “Wait. You didn’t sleep last night? At all?”
“Can’t sleep when I have eighty pages of developmental psych readings to study. I think I did well on the exam today, though, so it was worth it.”
“Fuck. Jax, if I had known you’d gotten no sleep, I would have just told you to stay home.”
“No,” I said quickly, forcing myself to sit up straighter again and open my eyes a little wider. “I want to be here for you. More than anything.”
I’d never seen him look so concerned. “If you say so.”
Charlie gently put his hand at the top of my back. He looked at me like he was trying to see if I’d jump away from his touch.
“That feels so good,” I said. “Best thing I’ve felt all day.”
He rubbed a small circle with his hand at the top of my back, and instantly my body went all melty inside. I could feel my filter disappearing again, second by second, feeling dangerously close to telling him just how much I was enjoying this—to the point where it was turning me on just to be next to him, let alone from having his hand on my back.
“How often do you go get massages?”
I lifted an eyebrow at him. “Like, a real massage? I’ve never gotten one in my life.”
“Damn,” Charlie said. “You have to do it. Especially as an athlete.”
Charlie put a little extra pressure with his thumb on the spot where my neck met my shoulder. I let out an involuntary moan, right there at the bar.
“I lied earlier. That’s the best thing I’ve felt all day. Holy shit.”
“When I first started in construction, I spent all of my spare money on weekly massages,” he said as he slowly worked his thumb along my shoulder. “I never had much of any money growing up, so a massage made me feel like royalty. Still does, really.”
“I can imagine,” I murmured. Charlie had told me snippets about his childhood—he’d grown up poor, an only child with a single mom. His childhood couldn’t have been more different than my own.
“I’ve dialed it back since then, when I realized I was spending a small fortune. But a good massage is still one of my favorite things in the world.”
“I mean, I could pay a professional,” I said. “Or I could just let you touch me like this.”
“I’m not half as good as the pros.”
I sighed. “You’re amazing, Charlie.”
“My goal is to show you how vital it is to fucking take care of yourself, asshole. Not just other people.”
I snickered. “Will the massage pros call me an asshole while they’re working on my shoulder blades, too?”
He hummed. “No. That’s a Charlie Benson special, from me to you.”
“I learned something in one of my classes,” I murmured, slipping back into a state of bliss under his strong hands. “Apparently, men have a serious lack of physical touch in their lives. Even in men who have plenty of sex, non-sexual physical touch is at a deficit.”
“So, men just need to rub against each other more often? Is that what you’re telling me?” Charlie asked.
“That is my therapeutic diagnosis, yes.”
He leaned closer toward my ear, dropping his voice to a low whisper. “Also, just so you know,” he said, “I noticed the cameras started rolling about a minute ago. Are you comfortable with them filming this? They didn’t give us any microphones yet, so I assume they can’t hear much, but…”
When he was this close to me, I could smell his clean, woodsy scent. Why did he have to smell so goddamn inviting? He could have said anything to me right now, and I’d still just want to lean in, curl up in his lap like a cat, and drift off to sleep while he rubbed my back.
“Jax?” he said in his low voice when I waited too long to respond to his question.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” I told him. “Yes. It’s fine. Let them film.”
“You sure?”
My mind was completely elsewhere. “Charlie, they could have a camera two inches from my face right now and I wouldn’t care. We could be doing this on a stage in front of fifty thousand people and I’d still tell you to keep going.”
He hummed, sounding unconvinced. “Okay.”
“Why don’t you ever believe the things I tell you?” I asked.
His hands still moved along my shoulders, and I knew he was lost in thought. “I have a lot of trust issues, Jax,” he finally said, and my heart squeezed for him. I’d half expected him to bite back at me with some half-joke, but he’d been completely genuine.