Page 51 of A Fighting Chance
I stand and walk to her, instinctively reaching out to take over and rub where she’s rubbing.
She jumps, slightly startled, then relaxes again and lets her hands fall to her sides.
I begin rubbing circles on the back of her neck and outward to her shoulders. I apply some pressure, wanting to help ease her pain. “You’re a really great big sister, you know,” I say, my voice low but not quite a whisper.
“Thank you. I’m trying. But honestly, up until this visit, I probably wasn’t a very good one,” she says.
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I just mean I wasn’t around a lot. I wasn’t exactly a source of help or comfort,” she says, dropping her shoulders a bit as I press my thumbs between her shoulder blades and smooth her muscles. She’s tense, but her rigid edges loosen under my fingertips.
“I’m sure that’s not how she sees it. You’ve been living your own life. But she needed you, and you came,” I say.
Lyla’s quiet for a moment, like she’s considering my words.
“Are you done with the dishes?” I ask her.
When she nods, I stop massaging her in this awkward standing position and reach down for her hand.
Since Paw’s come home from the hospital, Lyla hasn’t spent a single night with me. She hasn’t even come to my room to unwind. But she needs it. She needs to relax.
I lead her upstairs, careful not to make too much noise as Paw has all but permanently affixed himself to the recliner. As a result, Nan’s been sleeping in the living room, too. I don’t want to wake them.
I take her to the edge of my bed and slowly undress her. I point to her shoes and she kicks them off. I unbutton her pants and let them fall to the floor, urging her to step out of them. I pull her shirt over her head then turn her around so her back is to me. Once I unclasp her bra, I bend down and trail soft kisses on the back of her neck. Her breath catches, and I watch a ripple of goosebumps spread over her arms. I let her bra fall, then I point to the bed.
She looks back at me over her shoulder and raises a brow.
“Trust me,” I urge.
Her face softens as she crawls onto the bed. There, she lies down on her stomach, tucking her arms under her head.
I unbuckle my belt, then my pants. They fall to the floor with aclinkas the buckle hits the hardwood and she look backs at me again.
“What is happening right now?” she asks, giggling.
I keep my eyes locked with hers as I pull my T-shirt up over my head and toss it on the floor. Then I open the drawer next to my bed.
“Wait,” she says, and I’m sure she’s thinking I’m reaching for a condom, but her face relaxes a bit when she sees the bottle of lotion in my hand.
“You need to relax, Lyla. I just want to help,” I say, giving her a grin. I open the bottle and put some lotion in my hand. Then I toss the bottle onto the mattress. I straddle her hips without applying any of my weight to her frame. Before I apply the lotion, I rub it between my hands, making every effort to warm it.
But it’s no use.
As soon as it touches her skin, she gasps and cusses about its temperature.
She relaxes almost immediately after that, though, when I begin to massage it into her skin. I work delicate circles up and down her back, attempting to focus on the areas in which she reacts underneath my touch. I press my fingers into her harder after a bit, wanting to make sure I do her body justice. I’ve never really given anyone a massage before, so I try to think about what I would enjoy.
Lyla seems to like it, and every now and then, a moan slips out from between her lips.
I try to ignore all the urges I have. To flip her over. To take her nipples into my mouth one at a time. To reach down and—
No, shut up.
Focus.
“Thank you,” she says on a moan. “This feels amazing.”
I redirect my attention to her thighs, kneading them softly. “Of course,” I say, choking on nothing.