And just as I do, the door to the room next door opens, too.
Out steps a freshly showered Gage wearing black mesh shorts and a gray t-shirt. His hair is still wet from the shower, his stubble is even more grown in, and his eyes are positively dancing as they land on me.
I can smell that soapy, sexy, man scent all the way from here.
My stomach flips with nervous anticipation.
He’s here.
He’s next door.
And holy cannoli, he’s de-freaking-licious. Even hotter than my hungover mind remembers, that’s for sure.
“Well would you look at that? It’s Lexi from Nashville,” he says, a hint of surprise in his tone.
“And it’s Motley Crue from Vegas,” I grumble, and he laughs.
The sound seems to echo in the small hotel hallway as his door clicks shut behind him, and something in my chest flutters.
“Where are you off to at such an early hour, Nashville?” he asks as we trek together toward the elevators.
“I have a massage appointment,” I say. “And it’s not that early.”
“Well isn’t that a coincidence?” he asks.
My brows draw together. “You have one, too?”
He nods. “I figured there isn’t a better way to start my day of sales meetings than to work out the tension.” He reaches up and kneads his own shoulders. He flashes me a smile. “The happy endings are always a bonus, too.”
I give him a look of horror, and he cracks up laughing. I purse my lips and narrow my eyes at him.
“You should see your face right now,” he says, still laughing.
“You do you,” I mutter as the elevator doors open and we step into an empty car.
He presses the button for the third floor. “Someone’s not much of a morning person.”
“I usually am when I don’t have a headache from drinking all night.”
He laughs again. At me. “You had two, babe.”
I raise a brow. “Babe?”
He cowers just a bit. “I like you with no make-up,” he says softly.
My cheeks turn pink and heat creeps up my spine at his compliment. “Thank you,” I murmur. “Your mesh shorts are nice.”
He laughs, and the doors open to the third floor. The spa is directly in front of us, and he holds out a hand to indicate that I should go first.
When we walk in, the receptionist smiles at him first as her eyes flick down his body and she flips her hair over her shoulder. “How can I help you?”
“We have massage appointments,” I say.
“Name?”
“Lexi.”
She nods. “Yes, I see it here. I don’t have you down for a couple’s massage, but we do have availability this morning.”
I think that same look of horror must cross my face, but Gage speaks up before I get the chance to. “That would be great,” he says. “You can add Gage to the reservation, but please charge it to twenty-two-seventy-one.”
“No,” I say sharply. I came down here for a relaxing massage, and the very last thing a massage will be with Gage right next to me is relaxing. “That’s not necessary.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all.” She clicks a few buttons before I get the chance to protest further and then points to a door. “Go ahead into our locker rooms. Take off as much as you’re comfortable with, and slip into one of the robes you’ll find there. Then exit the locker room and wait in our quiet room until your masseuses call your names.”
“Thanks, Marcy,” he says, reading her nametag. He places his hand on the small of my back. “This way, babe.”
I huff out a breath of protest, and as soon as the door closes behind us, I turn to him. “Why’d you do that?” I snap.
“Figured it’s my only shot to see you naked.” He says it so flippantly, so casually, that I’m pretty sure smoke starts pouring out of my ears.
“I hardly know you. Don’t you think it’s a little forward of you to assume I want a couple’s massage with you?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I see the way you look at me. You can’t pretend like your eyes didn’t roam right for the promised land in these shorts that don’t hide much of anything.”
I purse my lips as my face absolutely burns. “This is not okay. I came here to relax, and instead I’m being bullied into a morning with you when I already told you no.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right. Why did you say no? I can’t remember.”
I didn’t give a reason. I just said I didn’t think it was a good idea.
Because I’m not the kind of girl who just spends the day with a stranger.
Except...maybe, just for today, I want to be.
Maybe this is my chance to reinvent myself. To try something new. To shed the innocence of my past and take a chance on something that could be a lot of fun.
He could be my one-weekend LA fling. I’ve never had one of those before, and let’s face it, I’m twenty-five. I deserve the chance to really relax as a man as hot as him works over my body so I can gear up for the competition coming my way.
It’s not me, and it’s a scary thought, but so far I’m having a lot of fun getting to know him.
And he’s right.
My eyes did roam right for the promised land.
I saw the outline there.
I liked what I saw.
“I don’t know why I said no,” I admit, and then I relent. “Because it seemed like the smart thing to do. Let’s just see how this massage thing goes, and then we can revisit the idea of spending the day together...if the offer’s still on the table.”
He grins. “I’ll have to see if I can get out of my meetings, but yeah. The offer’s still on the table.”
“I’ll see you in the quiet room,” I mumble, and I push open the door to the women’s locker room.
I lean back against the door and draw in a deep breath.
God, the things he does to me—to my body—with just one glance or a few words.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt this sort of ache between my thighs or buzzing in my chest around any guy before. Certainly not Danny or Bobby, and not with the sex in the backseat boy from high school.
This is either going to be a really fun day or I’m going to end the day with a whole bunch of regrets.
CHAPTER 12: GAGE
I’ve never actually had a massage before, but I strip down to nothing and set my clothes in a locker with my shoes. I pull on the plush, navy robe along with the matching slippers and head out to the quiet room.
The room is completely empty except for me and some scented wax.
She’s not there yet.
I slide into a chair and glance through a pile of magazines. They’re all ones I’ve never heard of before. One has cats on it, one is titled simply Contemplation, and the last one appears to be some sort of photography one. Apart from the cats, it seems like they’re trying to extend the theme of relaxation even to their magazine titles.
Cats, though, don’t tend to relax me.
Likely because one clawed my arm when I was six and it was so deep I had to get stitches. I still remember the fear of not knowing how to make it stop. To this day, I tense up every time I’m in a room with cats.