Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Got it. Thank you.” I lower my head, looking at the ground as I open the door and step inside the dimly lit room. It smells of expensive leather and earthy wood. I suck in a deep breath letting it fill my lungs. This is definitely a man’s room. Maybe an office or a bedroom.
It only takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust, and then all I see is him. My gaze is glued to the man on the massage table in the center of the room. He is face down, his bare muscular back fully exposed, while a large fluffy towel covers his bottom half.
He is a far cry from the pudgy middle-aged man I imagined as the manager of this hotel. Even though I don’t see his face, he has a commanding energy about him—an aura of confidence and power.
I have no clue why those guys want me to plant a bug on his clothes. I was too chicken to ask. Plus, I don’t think they would have told me anyway.
“I don’t pay you to stand around.” His deep baritone voice fills the room, and every muscle in my body tenses. My mouth goes dry. Even if I wanted to say something, I couldn’t. My entire body tells me to turn around and run away as fast as I can, but my brain forces my legs to move.
I have to do this. I have to get my shit together and finish this job. Repeating that mantra in my head, I approach Mr. Grant. With each step I take, my breathing becomes more erratic, and my pulse speeds up to new heights.
Next to the massage table is a small side table holding an array of expensive-looking oils, lotions, and a stack of small hand towels.
My hands shake when I reach for one of the bottles of massage oil. I have no idea if this is the right kind of oil or how much to use. The instructional YouTube video Massage for Beginners I watched on the way over here didn’t specify any of that. Flipping the cap open, I pour a generous amount into my palm.
“Are you going to start before lunch, or do I need to cancel my afternoon appointments?” Annoyance drips from his sharp voice, making my hand shake even more. It’s not just his tone that has me nervous. It’s everything about him.
Setting the bottle aside, I rub my palms together before placing them on his shoulder blades. His skin is warm and soft, but his muscles are tense and hard under my touch. I run my fingers down his spine, gulping when his taut muscles flex wherever I go.
Just like his friend outside, his body is covered in intricate tattoos. A large black snake is wrapped around his arm, and the head sits on the back of his hand while the tail is coming up his neck. I’m so enthralled by the beauty of the artwork that I don’t realize how I’ve been getting my face closer to his skin so I can see all the tiny details. I’m so close now that I can feel his body heat seeping into my chest.
Suddenly, I become very aware of my own body and how it’s reaching to the half-naked man lying in front of me. My core tightens at the realization. Not only am I here to plant a bug onto this very dangerous-looking guy, but now I’m touching and looking at him inappropriately too. Even worse, his friend and what I assume is his girlfriend are right outside this door. I remember her well-manicured nails and imagine her slapping me across the face before kicking me out.
Get it together, Teagan.
My mind is running wild. None of this is actually going to happen. No one knows who I am and that I’m not a massage therapist. I’m here to do one little thing, and then I’m out of here for good. The small surveillance device in my pocket suddenly feels like it weighs a million pounds.
While absentmindedly massaging his back, I look around the room to find his discarded clothes. I need to plant the device on them. The only problem is… I don’t see his clothes anywhere. My eyes bounce from the made bed to the dresser, the desk, the chair in the corner, and back to the massage table. Nothing.
Panic slithers up my spine like a hissing snake.
Fuck. Where the hell am I going to plant this bug if his clothes are not here?
Could this day get any worse?
Who am I kidding? Yes, it could get much worse… and it probably will.
MASON
What the fuck is this chick doing? This has to be a joke. Either that or this is her very first day on the job. A job she forgot to train for. Instead of relaxing, I’m more tense and annoyed than I was this morning.