Free Until We Touch by Susan Mallery Page B

and I think you should, too.”
    At first he thought she meant his erection. While ignoring it made the most sense, a part of him felt a little snubbed. Only then he realized she was talking about the kiss.
    The one that had rocked his world and left him hard for the rest of the night. Kissing Larissa had been an impulse—one he couldn’t regret. Not that he would repeat it. Because that led to yet another dangerous place.
    “You’re right,” he said. “Ignoring it would be best.”
    “Good. Then let’s get on with it.”
    She politely turned her back, as she always did. He shrugged out of his robe and hung it on the back of the door, stepped out of his shower shoes, then walked to the table. He stared at it for a second.
    “I want to start on my back,” he said.
    “Sure.”
    He figured he would have a better shot at staying in control during the first half of the massage, when he wasn’t so relaxed.
    “I want you to really dig in on my shoulder.”
    “Is it bothering you more than usual?”
    “Yes,” he lied, hoping the pain she inflicted would help.
    He got on the table, faceup, and draped the sheet over himself. Larissa moved next to him. She already had the moist pack out of the hot water. She draped it across his shoulder, then tucked it under. The warmth immediately went to work. He began to relax.
    “Should I leave the sheet on or put on a towel?” she asked.
    Because she always draped a towel across his groin, he thought. “The towel is fine.”
    She crossed to the cabinet and pulled out a towel. He closed his eyes and thought about the last offensive play of the regular season game during the 2010 season. The Stallions had been on the twenty yard line with fifteen seconds left. They’d been down by three and—
    She pulled off the sheet. Truly pulled it so that yards and yards of warm, soft linen rode against his penis. It was like silk, he thought, enjoying the sensation. Not as good as Larissa touching him, but still nice. What would make it better was if she was pulling it away to crawl in next to him. Then they would—
    He swore silently and opened his eyes. Larissa draped the towel across him, then turned away. She pumped oil onto her hands, as if she hadn’t felt anything. Which she hadn’t, he reminded himself. He was the only idiot in the room.
    He forced his brain back to the game, reliving the entire play. He’d thrown a perfect pass to Kenny who had caught it, scoring the winning points. As he remembered the elation of the moment, Larissa slid her hands across his chest.
    She’d done it a thousand times before, to stay connected as she moved from one side to the other. It was normal and expected and not in the least bit sexy. The only problem was the light touch was just enough to get his blood pumping a little too fast.
    No way, he thought, grinding his teeth together. He would not be controlled by his dick. He was a bigger man than that. Only thinking the word bigger wasn’t his smartest idea.
    Sports, he thought frantically, as his blood heated and the familiar growing ache began. Ah, a game they’d lost. Right. Against Dallas. He’d been intercepted in the third quarter and it had all gone to shit after that. He relived the play and the subsequent disaster. It seemed to be enough to cool himself down. He breathed a little easier.
    She massaged both arms. She would do his right shoulder before he turned over, so it made sense that her next move was his legs. She walked around the table and put her hands on his left thigh. As her thumbs dug in, her fingers slid along his skin and by the time she got to his knee, he was hard as steel. He had to give Larissa points. She never faltered in her work. Even though his dick formed a good-size tent in the towel. Heat burned in him—half from arousal, half from humiliation.
    “I’m ignoring it,” he said at last.
    “Me, too.”
    He couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed like her voice was a little strangled. Humor or mortification?