Chapter 3Emir

Chapter 3 Emir

I should have stopped her the moment those long, agile fingers landed on my forehead, but the sweet absence of pain radiated through my body, making it hard to think clearly. I hadn’t felt this good in months. Her touch was pure sorcery.

I’d let Mom loosen the knots in my neck and shoulders a couple of times, but the idea of letting a massage therapist into my personal space, kneading me like dough abhorred me. Janie was right, though. She was a stranger, and my willingness to accept her fingers against my skin made no sense. She’d crossed the line, and I’d let her. I didn’t enjoy other people, women in particular. Not anymore. I had needs, but looking after myself was a lot easier than risking a relationship.

“Let’s make a deal then,” she said. “I need your help with Molly. And in return, I’ll massage you. For seven days. Unless you have other plans?”

Her dog reared on his hind legs, pawing my seat, and I scratched him around the ears. Gru. What a name. Maybe Janie had a thing for frowning villain types? It was her child’s idea, but she would have agreed to it.

“For seven days.” My voice came out gruff. Did I have other plans? It was hard to engage that part of my brain, with her fingers still turning soft circles on my scalp, running down my neck like rivulets of water.

“It’s two weeks until the engagement party, if you want to extend it until then. When do you fly back?”

“The day after the party.”

There it was. Our deadline. I had to be careful not to get used to this incredible feeling.

“Your horse only needs seven days of eyedrops, so that wouldn’t be fair. I’d have to pay you.”

Her fingers lifted off my skin. “Definitely not.”

I sensed my bargaining position. “Then let me help with the property. I’ll fix the storm damage.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet.” Her nails gently tapped my hair, as if she was resting her hands over me, on pause. I shivered.

“Well, you have me by the scalp. Use it to your advantage.”

Her bubbly laugh filled the room, and those fingers dove back into my hair, like liquid being poured down, washing away tension and pain, replacing it with a delicious vibration that made me almost drowsy. If she’d suggested a trading deal involving stocks and diamonds, I would have humored her, to keep it going. This was so much better than painkillers.

“I also know some good Pilates moves that might help.”

“Pilates?”

“Yes, it’s a kind of floor exercise—”

“I know what it is. I’m just…” I blew a breath, trying to think of a way to politely decline. Me, in tights, trying to twist myself into a pretzel. “I’m not very flexible.”

“No shit.” She giggled, gently drumming the sides of her palms against my shoulder. It felt amazing. “You’re well on your way to becoming a statue. Where do you envision the final work of art? In the town square? In a gallery?”

“Very funny.” She’d earned a laugh, but I couldn’t do it naturally. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed. My body must have moved that reflex into long-term storage.

“I’m not joking, though. Pilates is great for improving your mobility. Could save you from surgery later.”

“Surgery? What surgery?”

“When you’re this tight it’s only a matter of time before you pull or dislocate something. I’ve seen it. My ex-husband…” Her voice became strained and petered off.

“I’ve been under a lot of stress lately,” I inserted quickly, to change the topic. “It didn’t use to be this bad. I know I need to do something, but when there are more pressing things with the business and the family—”

“You neglect yourself,” she finished for me. “I know what it’s like. But it’s a mistake. Never again.”

“Never again,” I repeated, with less conviction. I liked how she put it though, so simply. With no anger or resentment. She was on this new path, but I saw no path ahead of me.

“Do you like this?” She tightened her fist in my hair, giving it a gentle tug. “It’s something they taught me when I did the head massage course.”

Her voice sounded a little breathless, with a hint of embarrassment.

“It’s… nice,” I managed.

It was only a massage technique, I argued, but my body had other ideas. The way she tugged my hair, with both hands now, tilting my head back, felt too intimate. I imagined returning the favor—sinking my fingers into that long, blond hair and tugging. Her eyes rolling back and lips parting.

“It’s supposed to increase blood flow,” she explained.

“Sure,” I agreed, because blood was now rushing towards my groin, the image of her face overcome by pleasure lingering behind my eyes. What would she look like or sound like? I groaned, almost involuntarily.

“That’s right,” she encouraged me. “Just relax.”

Her voice was bright and professional, as if to convince us nothing inappropriate was going on. But life has a way of revealing your lies.

Gru barked and the front door clicked, announcing Cem and Aria. I stood up, nearly knocking over my chair. Our gazes locked, I saw a smile spread across Janie’s face. Her cheeks looked pink. I coughed, trying to gather my thoughts. Why was I this embarrassed? What was the big deal with someone massaging you? It wasn’t, obviously. Yet, I didn’t want my brother to find out.

Janie’s mouth twitched and my stomach tightened. Was she going to tell them?