Page 57 of Crave Me

“Oh, she’s the best,” I admit. “But she’s also kind of slutty, and no way in hell am I leaving her alone with you.”

His laughter turns to groaning real fast when I find a knot in his shoulder. “Jeeze, bossman. What the hell did you do to yourself?”

“I think it’s the way I slept on the couch.” He tenses beneath my touch. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s grimacing. “Yes. Right there.”

His fingers press against the sleek mahogany when I go deeper. “Do you want me to hook you up with a chiropractor? I know a guy, but I don’t think he makes house calls.”

“No,” he bites out, letting his head droop forward. “There are days I don’t make it home. I don’t have time to leave this office to go to another.”

He doesn’t have time to do a lot of things, including take care of himself. But that’s why he has me. It’s funny, as much as we’re not getting naked we are becoming more intimate, making me want him more.

I shake out my hands and move down his back. “Are you sure? It’s like every inch of muscle along your back has been tied in knots. I can’t even imagine the condition your spine is in.”

He thinks about it. “Maybe you could schedule a masseuse. They often travel directly to their clients.”

“You sayin’ I don’t give good massage?” I ask in my thickest Philly accent.

His shoulders tremble as he laughs, but as he settles, the strain in his muscles seem to double. “Not at all. I like you touching me.” He waits and adds, “Perhaps a little too much.”

I can’t help the smile that comes. “Oh, yeah? Then why are you talking about me hiring some hot masseuse who can come here and give you a happy ending?”

“I never said she had to be hot,” he says.

“But you wouldn’t deny that happy ending if she offered, would you?” I tease.

I expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. “Like I mentioned, you’re the one I want touching me.”

“Good,” I tell him, quietly.

I flex my fingers a few times and return to his shoulders, working them in longer gentler strokes. “You’re very good to me,” he says.

“I can say the same about you,” I tell him.

“I don’t agree.” He eases himself up when I return to his shoulders. “If I were, I’d take you home and make you dinner, rather than keep you here working late.”

“You’d make me dinner?” I ask.

He tilts his head so I can see him. “There are a lot of things I would do for you, Wren.”

My hands glide down to his pecs. “There are a lot of things I would do for you, too, bossman,” I whisper.

Like the rest of him, the muscles lining his chest strain beneath my fingers. I want to stay and play, I want to do a lot of things right now. But the hot union of sweating body parts doesn’t a great relationship make. With Evan, it’s safe to say I want it all, a good time in and out of bed.

“Can I talk you about something?” I ask.

The shift in my tone alerts him that at least for now, I’m done flirting. He leans his head forward, rubbing the spot on his shoulder I spent a lot of time on. “Does it involve me making more decisions?”

I adjust my position and his so I can reach his lower back. “Of course it does, but that’s why they pay you the big bucks, and why you’re going to launch this company into the cosmos.”

He groans. I’m not sure if it’s from his lingering doubts or because he’s already fearing what I have to say. “Your administrative staff kind of sucks,” I tell him truthfully.

His groans increase even though my kneading grows lighter. Well, at least I know where he’s coming from.

“And your mid-level staff isn’t that much better. But the good ones you have are awesome.”

“Tell me something I’m not aware of,” he says.

“Okay. I’ve assembled a team.”