Her heart was racing. She reminded herself what she’d set out to prove to him, as well as the fact that he was obviously still expecting her to return to the massage.
I’m going full force, she’d told herself at the Troll’s House. She pulled in a heavy breath, gathered her courage, and straddled Luke’s lower back. The movement caused her skirt to ride higher on her thighs— not that he could see that, but the position allowed her to press weight evenly on both sides of his back. It also allowed her to feel the sheer strength of him right between her legs, but she tried to push that out of her mind and focus on her task.
Touching his bare skin was heaven, the friction against her palms warming her all the way down to her toes. When he groaned again, she pressed harder, kneading his lower back— where his drawstring pants were starting to ride dangerously low— and along his sides. Her breathing grew faster and sweat trickled between her breasts, but she held on to her composure and focused all her energy on helping Luke relax.
His muscles loosened slowly, molding like pliable dough beneath her hands. His own breathing slowed, his body sinking against the mattress. She slackened the pace of her massage, switching from short kneads to long, easy strokes designed to increase the flow of blood. She ended with a light rubbing of his lower back.
He was breathing deeply and evenly, his head turned to the side and his eyes closed. Polly eased away from straddling his thighs to sit beside him on the bed again. She leaned in closer to his ear.
“Luke,” she whispered. “Are you asleep?”
“No,” he mumbled.
“You can turn around now.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Because I have a boner the size of a redwood tree.”
A giggle escaped Polly at the same time that arousal poured through her veins like sweet, melted butter. Her pulse quickened. She let her gaze stroke over his body again. His muscles were still loose and relaxed, but there was a new kind of tension coiling through him. Sexual tension.
And if Polly rephrased his remark in her mind, which she absolutely did, she thought that what Luke had was a “big, throbbing cock.” She almost moaned aloud, squeezing her thighs together to assuage the ache that had burgeoned since she’d first started touching him. She’d been wet since then, too, her sex so slippery that he’d probably be able to slide his big, throbbing cock into her with no resistance whatsoever . . .
She closed her eyes, unable to stop herself from pressing her hand between her legs. Need sparked through her body, a flame that had been kindled the instant she’d looked up and met his gaze across the crowded bar.
She opened her eyes and looked at him again. He pushed to his elbows and turned his head. A hot, electric current sizzled between them.
There were a lot of things Polly didn’t know, or at least that she was still learning. But if she focused and paid attention to her instincts, she knew what she wanted. As long as she didn’t get swept up in silly thoughts of romance, then Luke Stone was exactly what she both wanted and needed.
She leaned closer and gazed into his lust-dark eyes.
“Turn around,” she whispered.
“You don’t know what you’re asking, Peach.”
“Yes, I do.” She pushed gently on his shoulder. “Turn around.”
With a slight grimace, he turned and flopped back against the pillows, his breath expelling on a long rush. Shivers raced through Polly as she drank in the sight of his bare chest, all beautiful, sculpted muscles and six-pack abdomen leading right down to . . .