Read Online On His List (Entangled Flirts) by Wendy Sparrow - Free Book Online

down to a soft glow. She dimmed the lights for all her clients, especially when they were facing the ceiling, but it felt more like mood-lighting with Owen. She took another one of those cleansing breaths before saying, “Okay, take your shirt off.”
    It wasn’t the way she’d pictured saying that for the first time in their relationship, but it was just as breathless as if they’d been in one of her fantasies.
    “What?” he asked.
    “You’ve paid for a massage, and I’ve thought you needed one since I first saw you. Normally, I’d leave the room and have you strip down, but I don’t want to lose my license for inappropriate behavior.” If he were naked, she’d want to be all kinds of inappropriate—especially when he smelled so good, and she’d been thinking about him all night. Until they settled things between them, she was just going to give him a massage.
    That was all.
    “Yeah. Just your shirt,” she reinforced. Just his shirt.
    Turning away, he unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off, folded it carefully, and set it on a chair in the corner. She’d pegged he’d be a “folder.” Some of her clients did that, and it had always amused her. With Owen, it was sexy as hell. He’d done it all so slowly and deliberately it was like a free striptease. Of course, everything was sexy as hell with him.
    Shaking her head at herself, she spun and pulled down the sheets on the thickly padded table. When she turned around and saw his chest, she almost had him put his shirt back on. The flash of heat nearly staggered her. Holy wow. His pectoral muscles alone were begging to be touched. And those abs! Remy closed her eyes and took a few more deep cleansing breaths. At this rate, she was going to hyperventilate and pass out.
    “I wanted to talk with you,” he said.
    It hit her like a blast of cold air. Most of her relationships had ended with those words. Why would he still pay for her whole day if he was trying to end it? They’d barely begun.
    She arranged the face cushion for something to do with her hands. He’d paid for a massage, and she’d give him a massage. She was a professional , dammit. Clearing her throat, she patted the massage table. “Lie down. Facedown,” she said.
    He stared at the table. “I’ve never had a massage. I don’t really care for strangers touching me.”
    Swallowing back the hurt, she folded her arms and glared at him. Oh for hell’s sake, she was going to walk out. Enough was enough.
    He glanced up. “No, not you. I mean, I’ve never done this.” His obvious chagrin at mentally replaying his previous comment made him docile as a lamb, and he lay down on the table quickly, almost eagerly.
    Clenching her jaw tightly, she swallowed her frustration. She’d start at his neck and work down. Hopefully he wouldn’t say anything that would make her want to choke him to death.
    “I can tell you’ve never had a massage. You know these muscles right here.” She rubbed along his trapezius muscles at the base of his neck, which stretched taut into his shoulders. “These aren’t supposed to be so tight you can bounce things off them.” Steel was softer and more pliant than the muscles in his shoulders.
    He laughed and then relaxed, bit by hard-won bit, as she rubbed his shoulders. She’d forgotten to turn on the songs of nature soundtrack she usually played, so she hummed snatches of music softly under her breath.
    “I like your noise,” he murmured.
    “What?” That was a weird thing to say and, besides, Denny had told her over and over Owen preferred quiet.
    “Last night, when I was alone in my hotel room, I realized how cold the air felt without you, humming or talking or moving around in it. It felt dead. You made the air feel alive.”
    Even as her heart skipped, she said, “You’re just being nice. These muscles probably weren’t half as bad yesterday.”
    “No, Remy. I’m not. You’re always humming, always moving. It’s not like me to enjoy that, but I do. With