Page 129 of So This Is War
No, not just touching him, but rubbing him.
Would he be mad if I rubbed him all over? Down his chest, to his stomach . . . under his briefs?
Maybe he wants me to lotion his legs too.
Possibly a full-body experience?
I’m not opposed.
“Thanks. Sometimes in the winter with wearing all the protective gear, my shoulders and back can get super dry. I usually ask one of the boys to help me, but they hate it.”
“Well, I’ll rub lotion on you anytime, anywhere you want,” I say, the words sounding far too desperate.Or maybe that’s just how I feel.I have honestly never been this close to a man so well built. I’veseenpictures of men like this, but right now, I’m touching one.
“And that’s why you’re a good assistant,” he says when I finish up, sad that I don’t get to touch him anymore. When he turns around, he smiles down at me, and for a moment, I feel like he’s going to reach out and touch me, cup my face, and bring me in close to his chest. Maybe tell me how much he wants a repeat of our first night. “Think you can grab me some coffee?”
Poof. Just like that, I’m knocked right out of the fantasy and back to reality.
“Umm, yes,” I say, blinking a few times. “What kind of coffee do you want?”
“The boys were talking about a place about twenty minutes away. Do you mind? I can’t go out, or else I’ll be taunted, and after last night, I’m not in the mood.”
“Yeah, I can do that. Just let me take a quick shower?—”
“Yeah, you don’t have time for that,” he says. “We leave in an hour and a half and still have to pack. Grabbing the coffee will take you at least fifty minutes, so you should probably get going now.”
“Right, okay,” I say. “Let me just grab a sweatshirt to put over my shirt and go to the bathroom.”
“Tick-tock, Wylie.”
My easygoing attitude quickly flashes to annoyance, but he doesn’t seem to care as he takes a seat on the bed, kicks his feet up, wearing nothing but his briefs, and picks up the book I got him about Washington. “Pictures are great in this.”
Right. You’re his assistant.
Don’t get caught up in him.
Or the tasks.
Or the irritation.
Get the job done and work on yourself.
To saymy morning was chaotic is an understatement.
After I sprinted across town to get some coffee that was average at best, I flew into his room with him still in his briefs, but this time on his phone watching highlights. He thanked me for the coffee and then told me that I had to pack for him and we were leaving in fifteen minutes.
So I took the quickest shower of my life, packed myself, and then packed him while he slowly dressed into one of the sweatsuits I got him.
And do you know what’s really annoying about that?
He looked fucking good in it.
Like, really good. The sweatshirt didn’t cover his butt, so his high and tight rear end was shapely represented by the sweatpants. And since the sweatpants were a jogger fit, his ankles showed against the white of his shoes, which hit me hard for some reason.
It was hot.
Very hot.
So hot that I grew incredibly irritated with him and stopped talking while I finished packing.
