Read Online Lady and the Champ by Katherine Lace - Free Book Online Page B

kind with the electric bulbs inside that look just like candle flames. I can smell chamomile, lavender, and a hint of peppermint. The lights dim as Austin moves a switch down, his smile barely concealed in the low visibility. It’s a cleverly disguised room for seduction. He planned this. There is no doubt about it.
    “It helps me relax,” he explains.
    Relax. Right . The absolute opposite of what I’m doing now. My heart thuds painfully against my chest as the door snaps shut. It’s such a small room, and Austin takes a few steps forward.
    My body throbs as the scents drift in front of my nose. I walk away from Austin and take a look at the oils. My eyes scroll back and forth over the labels, but I can’t seem to read them, and I know it’s because of Austin’s overwhelming presence. His body is like a heat lamp, standing right next to me.
    “Do you like it?” He sounds like he’s a bit disappointed I didn’t comment on the room as soon as I walked in.
    I turn and find myself looking straight at the middle of his naked chest. “I think you did this on purpose.”
    His crooked grin widens. “Did what?”
    “You set up this whole room to put me in the mood!”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Oh, please. The candles, the dimmed lights!”
    “I like to smell flowery shit while I’m being massaged. What, are you going to shame me on my scents, too?”
    I’m going to kill him.
    “Just—get on the table!”
    “Do I need to lose the boxers?”
    My face goes red-hot. Dammit, why does he keep doing that? Why do I keep responding? “Um…” I trail off.
    I’m distracted by his thumbs, hooking underneath the waistband of his absurd boxers. They pull the fabric down, exposing a length of mouth-watering thigh and a patch of dark hair that makes my pussy clench.
    He’s taking them off. And I just stare at him, because I apparently suffer immediate paralysis at the potential sight of a penis.
    He slides the boxers down and kicks them off, then settles onto the table. I glance at his thick cock.
    What are you doing ?
    I jerk my attention back to his face. He’s smirking so hard his face is probably going to stick that way.
    “Turn around,” I snap, and he stretches out on his stomach.
    At least while he’s on his stomach, I can’t see his cock. I grab a towel and position it over his bare ass. I would have preferred he left his shorts on, but I’m going to need to massage his glutes, so in the long run having him naked makes that a bit easier. I remind myself he’s an athlete—dozens of people see him buck naked every day, so he doesn’t care. Still, I know damn well he’s pulling this shit to try to get a rise out of me.
    I hate to admit it, but it’s working. I’m risen. At this point, just looking at him, I’m having a hard time not thinking about what he’d feel like between my thighs. What it would be like to ride him. I feel myself blush again. Thankfully he can’t see it anymore with his face pressed into the table.
    I pick out a couple of oils—chamomile and lavender—and mix a few drops on the palm of my hand. Once the oil is nicely warm, I start working.
    All I can see is miles and miles of oiled bare skin, flecked with freckles, patterns of small brown moles, the arched curve of his ribcage as it rises on either side of his spine. The flat planes of his shoulder blades.
    God, he’s beautiful. All I can think about is how alive he is, how the soft smell of his skin drifts to me, enhanced rather than smothered in the scent of lavender and chamomile.
    My hands start to tingle as I slide them down his back. My thumbs dig into the muscles on either side of his spine, but my brain is interpreting it as sexual rather than therapeutic. I can feel my breath quickening, my heartbeat speeding up. My fingers touch the edge of the towel I tossed over his ass, and it’s all I can do to keep from moving it aside and grabbing his glutes. I need to massage them, but with my brain