“Hey, Rach. This is my friend Abbi.”
“We’re just friends,” Abbi blurts. “I just . . . thought doing this together would be more fun.”
Rach frowns for a beat before smoothing out her expression. “Sure! No problem. I think we’ve met at Smithy’s. You’re friends with Brinley, right?”
“Yes, I remember.” Abbi smiles, but the way she shifts tells me she’s nervous about this.
Rachel stands and waves for us to follow her. “Come back here, and I’ll show you the room. I’ll have you undress to your comfort level, and then you’ll each take your place on one of the massage tables.”
“Will you be going back and forth between us?” I ask. “Or how does this work?”
Rachel grins and shakes her head. “No, no. That wouldn’t be very enjoyable, I’m afraid. My other therapist will be joining me. Hudson’s young, but he’s excellent. Good hands, good intuition.”
“Hudson?” Abbi asks, eyes wide.
Rachel opens the door to a dimly lit room and gestures us inside. There are two beds—or tables, I guess—and candles flicker in their sconces on the far wall. A small fountain gurgles in the corner and low, relaxing music plays in the background. “Do you know him?”
Abbi clears her throat. “Yeah, you know, small town,” she says with a forced smile.
My stomach drops. I’m missing something here for sure. Did Abbi and Hudson date? Do they have some sort of history? Jealousy makes my back teeth clang together.
“For sure.” Rachel looks back and forth between us. “Do you two have a preference of who works on whom?”
I lock eyes with Abbi and make a quick decision. “I want you to work on Abbi, Rach. I’m sure this Hudson guy is great, but Abs is on her feet constantly and needs the special Rachel experience.”
Rachel nods. “No problem at all. I’ll just step out and let you two undress. We’ll go ahead and start facedown.”
I wait until she pulls the door shut behind her before I turn to Abbi. “Who’s Hudson?”
She blinks at me. “He’s your massage therapist—I thought we just covered that.” She folds her arms. “I’m proud of you, by the way. You wouldn’t believe the number of men who are afraid to let another man give them a massage. They can barely keep the male massage therapists in work at The Orchid. Men prefer women and women prefer women.”
In truth, I prefer a woman too. It’s just a comfort thing but not a deal breaker, but I’m happy to take any sort of praise from Abbi, so I shrug. “It’s no big deal. But you had a definite reaction when she named the other massage therapist. Who is he? Do you two date?”
Abbi huffs. “No.”
“Then what?”
She shrugs. “Nothing. Hudson works downstairs at the fitness center, and anytime he sees me at Smithy’s, he tries to get me to schedule a personal training appointment with him.”
“Oh.” I blow out a breath. “Good.”
She frowns. “Good?”
“I don’t exactly want the girl I’m seducing to be naked in the same room as some guy she sees sometimes.”
She bites her bottom lip, eyes crinkling in the corners. “The girl you’re seducing, huh?”
I close the distance between us and slide a hand into her hair, twisting it around my fist so I can tug and tilt her face up. “What would you call this?”
She stares at my mouth with parted lips. “I don’t know. I can’t figure that out.”
I didn’t plan to kiss her in here, but I can’t resist, so I lower my mouth to hers and suck her bottom lip between my teeth. The sound she releases is half moan, half sigh, and it makes my dick half hard, so I back away. “I didn’t think that through.” I walk to the other side of the room and strip off my shirt. The distance does very little to change the direction of my pumping blood.
Abbi touches her fingers to her mouth. “What just happened?”
I quirk a brow. “I kissed you.” I pop the button on my jeans, and her gaze drops to my hands. Hell.
“No, I mean . . . why’d you run?”
I chuckle. “Because I don’t want to be sporting a semi during my massage.”
Her face splits into a grin. “Got it.”
I shove my jeans down my hips, and she continues watching me as I step out of them, leaving myself in nothing but my boxer briefs. “You’re staring.”
Her cheeks flame red. “Sorry.”
“I wouldn’t complain, but again, massage etiquette and hard-ons don’t go hand in hand.”
She snorts. “Seems like there’s a dirty joke somewhere in there.”
No doubt.
I usually get massages in the nude, but given the circumstances, I decide to keep my briefs on. I fold my clothes into a neat pile then turn to Abbi, who hasn’t removed a stitch of clothing. “Everything okay?”
“Sure. Why?” She’s wringing her hands.
I look her over. “Because you’re not undressing?”