Off the Record (Off #3)(29)
I walk over to her and pull her from the bed by her hands. “Now...you’re going to drink your Gatorade and take two ibuprofen, then you’re going to get your ass in the tub while I get us some dinner from room service. And if you don’t do it, I’ll pour the damn Gatorade down your throat and strip you myself to put you in the tub.”
“If I wasn’t so sore,” she mumbles, “I’d take you up on the offer to strip me.”
A pleasurable thrill runs up my spine at those words. It’s the first candid moment we’ve had about this underlying attraction we have for each other since that kiss.
That amazingly perfect kiss.
The thought of stripping Ever down is way too tempting but I chase it from my head. I push her gently into the bathroom and close the door behind me.
By the time Ever emerges from the bathroom trussed up in a fluffy white, hotel robe, I have room service laid out. I got us soup and sandwiches, which Ever attacked the minute she sat down. I also got us a bottle of wine. It will help her sleep tonight.
“Today was surreal,” she says. “I don’t know that I’ll ever see anything as horrifying again.”
“It’s pretty bad. We won’t even make a dent while we’re here.”
“I guess every little bit helps. I assume they’ll be cleaning up for months and months.”
We’re silent for a while as we continue to eat and I pour her a second glass of wine after she finishes the first. I break the silence with something that has been on my mind. “You told Kyle your mom was sick. Was it cancer?”
Ever nods at me while she takes a sip of water. “Breast cancer. Five years ago. She had a double mastectomy, chemo and radiation.”
“But she’s okay now?”
“Yes. For now. She’s made it to the five year mark and that’s a big milestone. But I still get nervous every time she goes in for a checkup.”
“You were what...fifteen, sixteen when it happened?”
“Just turned sixteen.”
“How come you didn’t say anything when I told you my mom died of cancer?”
Ever shrugs and takes a sip of wine, holding the savor on her tongue before swallowing. “I don’t know. It was horrible you losing your mom at such an early age to cancer. I guess I would have felt I was rubbing your nose in the fact that my mom survived.”
Wow. That’s an incredibly thoughtful action on her part. Not that I would have taken it that way, but it proves to me something I had long suspected. Ever is a very caring person.
“Must have been tough watching your mom be sick like that. I’m lucky I don’t really remember too much. I only have good memories of her.”
Ever smiles at me. “We should all be so lucky. That’s nice that you have nothing but good memories of her.”
Pushing back from the table, Ever stands with a groan. In fact, she can’t stand fully up but is bent over slightly.
“Is your back hurt?”
“Yeah. I think I’ll just try to get some sleep and hopefully will feel better in the morning.”
I stand and walk into the bathroom, grabbing a fresh towel. Walking over to the bed, Ever watches me with curious eyes. I hand her the towel and turn my back on her. “Take your robe off and put the towel over you. I’m going to give you a massage and work on some of those sore muscles.”
She doesn’t say anything but I can hear her obeying me. I see the robe hit the floor next to my feet, and soon after she says, “I’m ready.”
I kind of expected her to balk at my request but I’m glad she didn’t. I’ve been itching to get my hands on her again, and while this massage is purely for medicinal purposes, it doesn’t mean I’m not going to enjoy the hell out of touching her skin. I only hope I can do it without her noticing the boner I’m sure to be sporting by the time I’m done.
She’s laying on her stomach with the towel draped over her bare bottom, resting her head on her arms. Her back is nothing but an expanse of creamy skin that’s delicately arched. I can see the curve of her breasts just below her shoulders and I want to skim my fingers across them to see what they feel like.
Yup. Boner has commenced.
Mentally shaking those thoughts away, I start on the arm that is closest to me, gently massaging from her shoulder down to her fingertips. I even take the time to massage each joint of her fingers. I’m always amazed at how small her hands are in mine. She seems fragile and I make sure I’m extra gentle with her.
When I’m done with that arm, I tuck it by her side and crawl on the bed to reach her other arm. I pay it the same care, smiling at her small groans of appreciation.
I finish with that arm and ask, “Do you mind if I straddle you so that I can work on your back?”
“That’s fine,” she says, her voice relaxed and mellow.
Flipping a leg over her body, I straddle her just over her buttocks. I need to take a deep breath because I have a fleeting image of me pulling her hips up and driving into her from behind.
Hoping to drown out those visions, I start concentrating on her shoulders and upper back. She’s particularly sore up there and I make sure that I gently knead the muscles. She continually lets out soft moans indicating that something feels good, or she’ll flinch if something is especially painful. I read her body and know what to give her.