Page 70 of The Spy
He swallowed. "All right, uh, where is it?"
I pointed out the purple container. "There."
"Great." He put some on his fingers and then he kneeled in front of me, starting with my feet. His hands were strong, firm, and I moaned as his thumbs ran over my arch. Oh my God. Heat pulsed low in my belly as he worked his way up one foot then up my calf, working the lotion in.
I was fine.
Until he started working up above my thighs. Fucking hell. Having his fingers so close to my pussy, I was convinced he could smell me. Convinced he knew how desperate I was for him. But I kept my jaw clamped shut. And just when he ventured up past mid-thigh, his fingers working diligently, he stopped. I wasn't sure if the whimper I was feeling internally made an escape, but he paused momentarily as he was turned from me. But I could see his ears flushing pink.
Jesus Christ. When he started on the other foot, I resolutely didn't make a sound as he worked his way up. This time, he was far more businesslike as he worked up my thighs. And then he stood abruptly. "All right, your legs are all set. Let me do your arms." One by one he worked that, and then he smiled. "See? No problem."
"Um, my back please."
He frowned. "Y-your b-back?"
"Yeah. The blouse has dips in the back."
"Right. Of course, the arsehole would like something that shows off your skin."
"It's fine. Let's just get it done."
I held the towel to me, and he frowned. "I can't get to your back, Tabs."
Ugh, Jesus Christ. I stood and managed the work the towel so it covered my front and left my back exposed. He worked in the muscles, his hands large enough to bracket my whole back. When he worked his thumbs up the center of my spine, his fingertips brushed along the sides and my breasts tingled in anticipation, waiting for him to touch, even torture them.
He didn't though. When he had my whole back done, he frowned. "Um, please God, tell me you do not need your front. That wouldn't be a good idea."
"No. I'll figure that part out. But can you help me get my bra clasped?"
He sighed. "Right yeah, bra. Uh, I have to warn you, I have much more experience taking them off than putting them on."
"Yeah, I figured,” I said with a caustic chuckle.
With much shifting and shuffling around with the towel, I managed to get the bra sort of in position and he snapped it in place. I dropped the towel, leaving me in what was essentially a bikini.
"Thanks, I can do it from here."
He just shoved my hands away, took the bottle of lotion, smeared it on his hands, and proceeded to smooth the lotion all over my stomach.
All I wanted was his hands to go up and over and mold his palms to my breasts. My nipples tingled. Heat pooled in my core as my pussy pulsed, needing him, wanting him to touch me.
His fingertips kept working right to the edge of my knickers. I held my breath as our gazes locked in the mirror. His eyes were hooded, his lips parted, his fingers working into my skin. And finally, he stopped abruptly, and I felt it as he shifted closer, the thick length of his erection pulsing at my lower back.
There was no mistaking it. His gaze met mine and we were locked in that dance. His hands on my stomach, twisting the muscles there, working over my freckles, my belly button, my lower abdomen, closer to my knickers. My breath was coming in shallow pants, and all I wanted was for his fingers to slide into my knickers and relieve some of that ache for fuck's sake. But they never did. And when he smoothed his hands back up my belly, just to the underside of my breasts, I thought he would ease that sweet ache, but again, he didn't. Instead, he cleared his throat and backed away.
“Yeah, let's get you dressed now."
I didn’t know how much more of this Gabriel torture I could handle.
The skirt was simple. The blouse took more effort. My arms slid in easily, and he adjusted the fabric so it sat on my shoulders just right and then did the front buttons. Each tiny one. As he worked, he said nothing. When I was dressed, he brought my shoes over and steadied me as my feet slipped inside.
He cocked his head. "Do you need help with the makeup?"
I shook my head. "Um, I might just go natural today." My voice was husky. Low. Desperate. Needy. Fuck, what was wrong with me?
He cleared his throat and stood back, the tension crackling between us like we were encased in our own cocoon.
Fucking hell.
