Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“A sports massage helps with muscle tightness after intense exercise. I’m hoping some cross-fiber friction, direct pressure to the tendons, and a lot of stretching will help minimize your muscle soreness in the morning.”
“I’ll be fine,” Mike refuted weakly, though he was already butt naked, facedown on the table.
“Yes, you will be when I’m finished with you, but…” Rayne sighed as he pumped some oil into his hands and rubbed them together, creating heat in his palms before he placed them across Mike’s shoulders and bore down. “You may not like me very much while I’m doing this.”
Uh, what? Mike didn’t know what Rayne meant, but so far, all the compression and kneading was starting to lull him into a deep sleep until Rayne took his arm, folded it behind his back, and pulled. “Fuck!” Mike hollered, eyes flying open. His bicep muscle screamed louder than he did as Rayne used broad, intense strokes over the strained ligaments.
By the time Rayne told Mike to flip over onto his stomach, he wanted to growl that he’d had enough, roll off the table, and crawl to the nearest bed. Rayne had been right—this massage was nothing like the other one that had ended with him thrusting his ass into Rayne’s pelvis and coming harder than he ever had in his life.
“Ow, Rayne. My leg doesn’t go that damn far,” Mike grunted while Rayne bent his leg and used his shoulder to push his thigh toward his chest. “I don’t do yoga, remember.”
Rayne chuckled lightly, but he didn’t reduce the pressure. If Mike didn’t know any better, he’d think Rayne was making him pay for what he’d done.
“Are you trying to torture me? Don’t you think I’ve already taken care of that?” Mike grimaced after Rayne put his thigh down, only to turn it outward and bend it again. “Damn you.”
“Almost over… I promise. Then you can sleep.” Rayne kissed his cheek, and when Mike met his gaze, he saw it there in Rayne’s gray eyes and his sweet smile, he swore he did. Love.
“Maybe I don’t wanna go to sleep,” Mike rumbled, reaching out and stroking Rayne’s hard stomach as he worked. “Maybe I want you first.”
“You don’t even have to ask, Mike. I’ll give you all of me anytime you want it,” Rayne promised, helping him off the table a few minutes later. His legs felt like limp noodles, but he managed to hobble to his bed with Rayne close behind him.
Mike didn’t care about cleaning the oil off his body before he climbed into bed and pulled Rayne on top of him. Mike remembered kissing him and getting lost in the peace and tenderness of his touch, but after that… it was all a blank. Mike cracked his eyes open again, and the sun was streaming through the crack in his curtains.
Damnit. He hoped he hadn’t fallen asleep mid-kiss with his hand on Rayne’s ass.
Chapter Fifty-six
Rayne
Rayne propped Mike’s cell phone—since his cheap one couldn’t FaceTime—in front of him on the breakfast bar while Chelsea walked on her treadmill, and he put the finishing touches on Mike’s breakfast in bed. He’d done this a hundred times for other men but for all of the wrong reasons. Rayne was doing this for Mike because he was his partner, and he’d had a difficult night and deserved some TLC. Also, it warmed his heart when Mike ate his cooking.
Rayne placed the chopped strawberries around the slices of honeydew, hoping that Mike liked melon. He was positive that he was going to enjoy the mound of bacon and sausage piled high beside the hash browns. Ordinarily Rayne would be against such a savory meal to start the day, but as he stacked the last piece of french toast on the plate, he felt Mike had earned it.
“Hey, Rainy Days. How much are you cooking anyway? We been talking over an hour. I’m on my cooldown.”
“You’ve thought of way too many ways to alter my name.” Rayne smiled at the woman who’d quickly become his best friend. “And to answer your question, I could cook in my kitchen all day, to be honest.”
“Oh, your kitchen, huh?”
“That’s right.” Rayne quirked a challenging brow at her. “Mike said that I had full creative control of the inside of the house, and I’ve arranged this kitchen exactly how I want it. Mike only comes in here to get a drink or add more of what I cooked onto his plate.”
Chelsea wiped her forehead before she smiled and said, “I’m so happy for you, babe. You have a sexy, older man that adores you, and he’s like the real deal.”
She had that right. There wasn’t a single thing fake or phony about Mike Stockley. Rayne could almost hear the ticks of his heart. “Yeah. I didn’t think it was possible to care for someone this much.”