Black Heart (Cursed Hearts #1)(26)

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Marty forced herself to relax as she ran her hands over his body. Well, not his entire body, unfortunately, but enough to fulfill several of her old schoolgirl fantasies.

Over the years she’d given a guy or two a massage, but they hadn’t felt this good to touch. Granted, Tristan had his shirt off and those guys hadn't. She was amazed at how hard his muscles felt beneath her touch, but still smooth. It was nice. This was nice. She smiled when she realized that she was getting paid for this. Yeah, this was such a hardship running her hands over the hard muscular body of the best looking guy in town.

Poor her.

She couldn’t help herself as she slowed her movements down so that she could enjoy exploring his body, at least, the areas that she was allowed to touch. He was so warm and firm. She ran her hands over his biceps, smiling as his muscles quivered beneath her touch and then moved her hand over his chest and nearly moaned as his small flat nipple hardened. Was it supposed to do that?

As she massaged his body, she took advantage of his eyes being closed to further examine his tattoo and wound. The tattoo on his chest was darker than she’d originally thought and was sexy as hell. She enjoyed running her fingers over that. Apparently he did too if his groans and moans were any indication.

Her eyes moved to the scar on his shoulder. The one on the back was larger than the one on the front. She realized after a moment that it was the exit wound. It must have hurt. Well, of course it hurt, she thought, feeling like an idiot, he’d been shot. She skimmed her fingers over the angry pink skin and frowned at the light scratches Janice had created with her fake nails. Anger surged through her knowing that someone had added to his pain. Before she could stop herself, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder.

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Tristan gripped the edge of the desk until he feared that his fingers would snap off when he felt her warm soft lips press against his shoulder. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his raging hormones. The last thing either one of them needed was him jumping her. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He could really go for it, but he was pretty sure that she might get upset.

“What was that for?” he somehow managed to ask. Although truth be told he had no idea if it came out as a coherent sentence since his mind was still focused on the things that he wanted to do with her mouth.

He felt her warm breath tickle his ear. Oh, shit……

“For all those times you used to kiss me better. Remember?”

He chuckled softly as his body turned to putty beneath her touch. “How could I ever forget? You were my own personal stalker.”

She playfully slapped him on his good shoulder. “I was not a stalker!”

“Yes, you were!” He chuckled harder as he remembered how diligent she’d been about following him everywhere. If his father hadn’t attached locks on the bathroom doors, she would have followed him in there as well.

“Hey, I wasn’t half as bad as the girls who used to follow you around when we were in school,” she said defensively as she continued to rub his back. She felt him further relax as they reminisced about the good old days, the days where she got to spend every waking moment with him and felt whole.

She really missed those days.

He groaned loudly. “Don’t remind me. I still have nightmares of giggling girls with acne and braces chasing me down and trying to steal a kiss.” He gave her a mock shudder that earned a soft chuckle.

“See,” she teased, “I wasn’t that bad. I only demanded kisses when I had a boo boo.”

“That’s true, except for all those extra kisses that you demanded for all of your invisible injuries.”

She sighed dramatically. “I was a sneaky one.”

“Yes, you were,” he chuckled in agreement. She loved the sound of his laughter, absolutely adored it.

“I still remember the last time you gave me a kiss,” she said, smiling at the memory of her first real kiss.

“Really?” he asked, stunned that she did. He remembered the last time, but for completely different reasons.

“Uh huh,” she said, stopping her massage to squeeze a little more lotion in her hands. Tristan’s eyes closed as he enjoyed her ministrations.

“How could I ever forget the kiss that made my life a living hell?”

*-*-*-*

His eyes shot open. “What?”

She exhaled slowly. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

His brows creased in confusion. “Refresh my memory.” Obviously his memory wasn’t as good as he’d thought, because that kiss always brought a smile to his face whenever he thought about it.

“Okay, let’s see. It was at the high school bonfire after the dance. You were a senior and I was nothing but a lowly freshman. To my shock and your date’s horror, you gave me a ride to the dance and even danced with me a few times,” she said absently as she rubbed his back and chest.

Tristan’s hands clenched tightly on the desk. It was the first and only school dance that he’d ever attended and it had nothing to do with his date, whoever the hell it had been. He went for one reason and one reason only. He wanted to dance with Marty. More to the point, he wanted to hold her in his arms. He remembered ignoring his date. She’d been bitchy, but that’s all he remembered about her.

“After the dance, the three of us walked to the bonfire where your date, Karen Manor, a junior, bitched and threw a few hissy fits, because she wanted you to send me away.”