Rebel (Wolfes of Manhattan 1)

Perfection.

Just what I needed today.

My bourbon headache had finally flown the coop, and after a gazillion cups of coffee, I no longer tasted the alcohol either. Now, as I relaxed under Brent’s perfect touch, I couldn’t help thinking about whose touch I’d really like to be feeling.

Rock Wolfe’s.

That man had gotten under my skin, and he was slowly driving me crazy.

He’d taken care of me last night, and he could have easily taken advantage of me. No. A man like Rock Wolfe wouldn’t do that. He was no gentleman, but he wasn’t a criminal. And not because he had any kind of high moral ground. He just wanted a woman to be completely aware of everything he was doing to her.

I smiled into the massage pillow, watching Brent’s feet as he moved around the table.

Brent was a nice looking guy. He wasn’t my regular therapist, but he’d worked on me a few times before. He’d asked me out once, but I turned him down, thinking it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with someone who’d already seen me naked.

Now, I was hoping he might ask again.

He wasn’t Rock Wolfe, but he could ease the ache between my legs when I thought about the handsome biker turned CEO.

Because Rock and I weren’t going to happen, no matter how much I wanted it. He was way too busy with his new responsibilities, and he’d made it pretty clear that I was only a fuck to him. A romp with someone else could perhaps ease the loss I felt.

Though he did make me breakfast this morning…

“Time to flip over, Lacey,” Brent said, holding the sheet so I could turn onto my back.

I was so relaxed, I decided to give him an eyeful.

Instead of flipping over underneath the sheet, as was customary, I pulled my arms up, grabbed the cover, and tucked it around my waist. My breasts greeted him, hard nipples and all.

“Uh…here. Sorry. Let me cover you up.”

“Mmm,” I said. “You don’t have to.”

“I’m a professional, Lacey. Besides, you made it clear the one time I asked you out that you weren’t interested.”

“I wasn’t interested then,” I said. “Maybe I am now.”

“Great,” he said. “But not here. I could get fired.”

“I’m not going to tell on you.”

He whisked the sheet over me. “No way. You’re beautiful, but no way. Not here. Now close your eyes.” He covered my eyes with a weighted mask.

I sighed, holding back a pout. Was I still a little bit drunk? What I’d done was not me at all, but Rock Wolfe had me feeling like a sex siren. Lacey Ward would never expose her breasts to a handsome masseur.

But she just had.

The tingle between my legs was becoming unbearable, and the soft texture of the sheet tormented my aching nipples.

I sighed again.

“Do you want me to have someone else finish your treatment?” Brent asked.

“No. Of course not. I’m sorry.” I’d embarrassed him…not to mention myself. What had I been thinking?

A romp with Brent might be fun, but it wouldn’t make me forget Rock Wolfe.

I had a sad suspicion nothing would.

I relaxed into the massage, and when it was over, Brent left to get me some tea and I donned the fluffy spa robe. He stood in the hallway when I exited the treatment room.

“Here’s your tea.” He smiled. “Now, if you want, I’m off in an hour. You want to meet me next door at the Brook Tavern?”

Why not? That would give me time to shower and sit in the steam room. “Sure. I’d like that.”After my shower and steam, I dressed in my office clothes, wishing I had a pair of skinny jeans, stilettos, and a camisole to meet Brent next door. Oh, well. The black slacks and burgundy blazer would have to do.

I walked over to the tavern. Brent was already there, seated at the bar. His long blond hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and he wore a few days of light brown scruff on his face. His jeans hung loose around his nice butt, and he wore a V-neck gray T-shirt that accented his biceps and triceps nicely.

Yeah, he was pretty. Really pretty. Not Fox Monroe pretty, but beautiful in a totally masculine way.

What was I doing here again?

I didn’t want a fitness model. I wanted a rugged man in leather.

I wanted Rock Wolfe.

But I smiled. I’d accepted this date. He smiled back, holding up his bottle of beer.

God. Alcohol.

I definitely hadn’t thought this through.

I sat down next to him and laid my purse on the bar.

“What do you want?” Brent asked me.

To have my head examined. Yeah, not really the right thing to say. “I think I’ll have sparkling water to start. You know, hydrate after a massage and all.”

“Good girl.” He motioned to the bartender.

I scanned the rest of the bar as I waited for my drink and zeroed in on a loner at the end of the bar. He looked familiar. Familiar but refined instead of rugged, with hair as long as Brent’s but dark where my date’s was light.