She cups the back of my neck. “I know. Me too.”
“I know what it’s developing into, and I just…I can only do my best to be man enough to show you how I feel. To maybe even…say it.” I laugh, a sharp huff. “God, why is that so hard?”
“Because it’s unfamiliar and it’s vulnerable. It means I could reject you, or somehow otherwise hurt you. I could change my mind. I could meet someone better.” When my face shows my obvious turmoil at this, she just smiles and clings tighter, with arms and legs. “But I won’t.”
“No?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I won’t change my mind about you. I won’t reject you or hurt you—at least not on purpose, but I’m no more perfect than you are, and at some point I’m going to do or say something that’s gonna hurt you. But it won’t be on purpose.” She bites my chin, then kisses my lips. But before I can kiss her back, she keeps talking. “And I sure as hell won’t ever meet anyone better.”
That blows my mind. “You’re crazy.”
She nods. “Yeah.” A nuzzle of her nose against mine; this is the stuff that makes me feel like my heart could explode. “About you. You’re amazing, Thai.”
I shake my head, but it’s in amazement, not denial; I don’t even know how we suddenly got here, to this place of tenderness and open affection, but I like it. A fucking lot.
“It feels amazing to hear you say that,” I say.
“I mean it.”
I rest my forehead on hers. “I care about you, Delia. A whole hell of a lot.”
“I know.” A smirk, a laugh. “I care a whole hell of a lot about you too, Thai.” The smirk turns into a grin. “I think I’m ready for that massage, now.”
I stand, step out of the tub, bubbles and water streaming off me—and the look on her face as she watches me tells me her words about wanting me were not idle, or empty. The appreciation and desire on her face is undeniable.
I towel off quickly, then wrap the towel around my waist, but Delia has other ideas.
“Leave it off,” she says, taking it and tossing it aside. “What’s the point in a sexy massage if I don’t get to look at you naked.”
“As you wish,” I say, and then take a fresh towel.
She stands up and I lift her from the tub and take my time drying her, paying perhaps inordinate amounts of attention to drying her breasts and buttocks.
Eventually, she laughs. “I think I’m dry, now, Thai.”
I give her left breast one last scrub. “There. Now you’re dry.”
Setting her rose on the sink, I replace the books into the box and put it on the floor of the bedroom just outside the door, and then I drape another clean, dry towel over the massage table. I guide her to it, lay her down on her stomach, arms at her sides.
For the next forty minutes, I use everything I know about massages, which, admittedly, isn’t much, but I do my best, beginning at her scalp and ending at her toes, front and back. Slowly, her body loosens and relaxes, and she goes heavy, limp. When I’ve massaged all her muscle groups, she’s on her back, breathing slowly, eyes closed. Not asleep, I don’t think, but close.
Her eyes flicker. A tiny, faint smile curves her lips. “Do you do happy endings?”
“You’re my happy ending,” I say.
“Tease.”
I bend over her, standing at the side of the table, and touch my lips to her. “What kind of a massage did you think this was?”
She hums, a relaxed version of a laugh. “Youdidmention the possibility of an orgasm as part of this romantic massage experience.”
“I think I remember saying something along those lines.”
She grins, licks her lips. “I’m not too proud to beg, Thai.”
I touch my lips to hers again. “Youneverhave to beg, Delia. I’m the one who should beg you for the privilege of being allowed to touch you.”
She grins, following me with her eyes as I round to the end of the table, running my hands up her shins, to her thighs. “Go on.”
