Chapter 143: All I Want Is You (1)
’This was supposed to be a relaxing experience,’ Greg told himself, but relaxation was the last thing he felt as Cammy’s hands worked their magic—and their torment—over his back.
"When was the last time you had a proper massage?" she murmured, her fingers pressing deep into the knots of tension coiled beneath his skin. "Your muscles are like stone."
Greg exhaled sharply, burying his face in the pillow, his body taut for reasons beyond muscle strain. "I don’t remember. I’ve been... busy." His voice was husky, strained, as he fought against the unwelcome—yet inevitable—reaction stirring beneath him.
Cammy clucked her tongue, her touch both punishing and hypnotic. "That’s why you’re like this. Always stiff, always tense. This isn’t good for you, Greg."
If only she knew.
He bit down on a groan as her thumbs dug into a particularly stubborn knot. The pressure sent ripples of sensation coursing through him—pain laced with something dangerously close to pleasure.
’Sweet torture,’ he thought, barely suppressing a shudder. He willed himself to stay still, to think of spreadsheets, deadlines, anything but the warmth of her hands, the scent of her skin, the maddening way her voice curled around his name.
But Cammy wasn’t making this easy. Not at all.
Instead of finding the relaxation he so desperately sought, Greg felt himself unravel beneath her touch. Every stroke, every glide of her fingers over his skin only fanned the heat coiling in his core. The more of him she explored, the more unbearable his torment became.
When Cammy finally moved on from his back and arms, he dared to hope the worst was over. But the moment her hands drifted down to his upper thigh, something inside him snapped.
In a swift, almost desperate motion, he turned, his hand catching hers mid-stroke. The sudden movement startled Cammy, her wide eyes locking onto his. Greg’s other hand scrambled for the towel, yanking it over his unmistakable arousal before he could truly betray himself.