“What are you doing next Saturday?” He questions, hands shifting lower.
Next Saturday?
I think fast, running through my fixed weekly schedules.
“Pilates in the morning…”
He moves his face, and his stubble collides with my cheek, brushing.
Something passionate and hungry blossoms between us. My breath falters, but I continue, “Spa… and massage, then I’ll- I’ll go home,”
“Come to my penthouse,” He whispers, lips opening and closing on my cheek, my jaw. “I’ll give you a massage, and you’ll get to see your surprise.”
My lips part with a soft sigh, my chest rising and falling unusually.
“Will you come?”
He’s taken over my brain. I want to be there. I don’t know how; I don’t want to have to lie, but I want to be… I keep wanting this…
I nod without thinking and melt completely into
