Until We Touch
Page 9He got on the table, faceup, and draped the sheet over himself. Larissa moved next to him. She already had the moist pack out of the hot water. She draped it across his shoulder, then tucked it under. The warmth immediately went to work. He began to relax.
“Should I leave the sheet on or put on a towel?” she asked.
Because she always draped a towel across his groin, he thought. “The towel is fine.”
She crossed to the cabinet and pulled out a towel. He closed his eyes and thought about the last offensive play of the regular season game during the 2010 season. The Stallions had been on the twenty yard line with fifteen seconds left. They’d been down by three and—
She pulled off the sheet. Truly pulled it so that yards and yards of warm, soft linen rode against his penis. It was like silk, he thought, enjoying the sensation. Not as good as Larissa touching him, but still nice. What would make it better was if she was pulling it away to crawl in next to him. Then they would—
He swore silently and opened his eyes. Larissa draped the towel across him, then turned away. She pumped oil onto her hands, as if she hadn’t felt anything. Which she hadn’t, he reminded himself. He was the only idiot in the room.
He forced his brain back to the game, reliving the entire play. He’d thrown a perfect pass to Kenny who had caught it, scoring the winning points. As he remembered the elation of the moment, Larissa slid her hands across his chest.
She’d done it a thousand times before, to stay connected as she moved from one side to the other. It was normal and expected and not in the least bit sexy. The only problem was the light touch was just enough to get his blood pumping a little too fast.
No way, he thought, grinding his teeth together. He would not be controlled by his dick. He was a bigger man than that. Only thinking the word bigger wasn’t his smartest idea.
Sports, he thought frantically, as his blood heated and the familiar growing ache began. Ah, a game they’d lost. Right. Against Dallas. He’d been intercepted in the third quarter and it had all gone to shit after that. He relived the play and the subsequent disaster. It seemed to be enough to cool himself down. He breathed a little easier.
She massaged both arms. She would do his right shoulder before he turned over, so it made sense that her next move was his legs. She walked around the table and put her hands on his left thigh. As her thumbs dug in, her fingers slid along his skin and by the time she got to his knee, he was hard as steel. He had to give Larissa points. She never faltered in her work. Even though his dick formed a good-size tent in the towel. Heat burned in him—half from arousal, half from humiliation.
“I’m ignoring it,” he said at last.
“Me, too.”
He couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed like her voice was a little strangled. Humor or mortification? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know which.
She continued to work her way down his leg before circling the table and starting on his other leg. She half turned to reach the oil. As she moved, the towel got caught or something because he suddenly felt it sliding off. He opened his eyes and started to sit up. Instinctively he reached for it, just as she did the same. He grabbed and she stretched and their hands met, right on his erect penis, her hand trapped beneath his, his long, hard shaft below that.
For the first time ever, Jack got the real appeal of a “happy ending.” In that split second, all he could think was how much he wanted her to touch him there. With her hands or her mouth—he didn’t much care which. As long as they stopped before he came so he could please her as much and then they would finish the whole thing with some old-fashioned intercourse.
Which was not to be, he thought, instantly releasing her hand and half expecting her to jump back and shriek. She didn’t jump or yell, instead she studied him.
“If you want to go take care of that, I can wait,” she said.
It took a second for the meaning of her words to sink in and when they did, he deflated like a popped balloon.
“Excuse me?”
She shrugged. “It would solve the problem.”
She expected him to go masturbate? Like some kid? “No,” he said firmly, gathering the towel and his dignity as best he could and sliding off the table. “No.”
He crossed to his robe and pulled it on. Only then did he let the towel drop to the floor. He slid into his shoes and stalked out of the massage room.
* * *
LARISSA FINISHED CLEANING up her massage room, then turned off the lights and walked toward her office. Jack’s inexplicable behavior still had her shaking her head. She didn’t like that he was making a habit of running out on her. Plus, she hadn’t finished her massage, so she knew he would be in pain. Her job was to prevent that. They had a really big problem—all penis puns aside—and she didn’t know how to fix it.
Yes, the whole erection thing had been a bit awkward. Personally, she’d found it difficult to think about anything else and she would guess he’d had the same problem. While she wanted to take credit for his aroused state, she had a feeling it was a lot more about circumstances than any allure on her part. She also knew exactly who was to blame.
She walked into her small office only to find her cell phone ringing. A single glance at the screen warned her the caller was the person who had started all this mess.
“Hi, Mom,” she said when she answered.
“Larissa, dear, I’m checking in. How are things?”
Complicated. Embarrassing. Confusing. There were so many words, she thought, not sure if the situation was comical or tragic. Probably a little of both, she thought.
“Things are good,” she said, taking the easy way out. “How about with you?”
“The usual. Your sister is finally admitting she’s pregnant.”
“The baby’s due in a couple of months.”
“You know that and I know that, but she’s been avoiding the truth. Your stepfather and I are going over this weekend to help with the nursery. A little paint, some new bedding and they’ll be ready.”
Larissa settled in her chair. “I’m sure they appreciate your help.”
“I’m sure they do. How are things with Jack?”
Larissa caught her breath. “That was subtle.”
“I wasn’t trying to be. He told you I talked to him.”
“Yes, and what you said.”
“I’m not wrong.”
Larissa drew in a deep breath and told herself to stay calm. “Mom, I’m not in love with Jack.”
“Really? When was the last time you went on a date?”
“I haven’t met any single guys here, yet. I’ve only been in town a few weeks.” It was more like months, but why say that. “I’ve made lots of girlfriends and that’s more important right now. I want a support network.”
“Why? You have a loving family, but fine. Have your girlfriends.”
“Gee, thanks.”“Maybe not, but you embarrassed me, Mom. You shouldn’t have said what you did to Jack. He’s my boss.”
There was a pause. “All right. You might be right about that, but I only did it for your own good.”
“Trying to get me fired so I can move back to L.A.? How does that help me?”
“You need more than your feelings for Jack and your causes. You’re so busy trying to save the world, you never have any time for yourself. Jack exacerbates the problem. You’re so close that you’re getting most of your emotional needs met, but you’re not actually in a relationship. It’s a dangerous situation. You’re not thinking about your future. Don’t you want to get married and have children?”
Talk about blunt, Larissa thought, telling herself that her mother was wrong about all of it. She had to be. “Eventually. What I don’t want is to do it on your timetable.”
“I know, honey, but I’m terrified you’re making choices for the wrong reasons. That you’re hiding behind your so-called good works. Yes, saving animals is important, but so is saving yourself. You don’t have to say anything, just promise me you’ll think about it.”
“Only if you promise to never pull anything like that again.”
“I promise.”
“Me, too.”
“Good. Now let me know when you plan to come for a visit. Your stepfather recently hired a couple of very nice, single accountants in his office. I think you’d like them both very much.”
And the conversation was going to end the way it started, Larissa thought, not sure if she should laugh or scream.
“I’ll talk to you soon, Mom.”
“All right. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Bye.”
* * *
JACK WALKED TO the break room. He needed coffee. Actually what he needed was a drink, but it was too early in the day. He had plenty of vices without going down that particular path. But even without drinking, he was a mess. He couldn’t focus and he knew the cause. But what was he supposed to say to make things right?
He poured himself a large cup of coffee then rummaged around in the cabinet. There were plenty of cookies and chips, along with protein bars and other healthy alternatives. But he wasn’t hungry.
“Hey,” Sam said as he walked into the break room. “What’s going on?”
“Not much,” Jack said with a silent wince.
For a second he thought about asking Sam to tell Larissa that he didn’t masturbate, but he stopped himself. Seriously, how was that going to work? First, he could never have that conversation with anyone and second, Sam would never pass the news on to Larissa. Even worse, Jack would hear about it for the rest of his life. No, better to suffer in silence.
“Taryn has some campaign ideas she wants feedback on,” Sam told him. “Stop by her office when you get a chance.”
“Sure thing,” Jack said.
By four he was ready to be done for the day. He’d accomplished little and there didn’t seem to be much hope for improvement. He was going to go home, have some quality time with a merlot and a few highlight reels, then come up with a plan to fix things with Larissa. He had plenty of women he could call. Maybe a wild weekend with one of them would cure what ailed him.
He turned to shut down his computer just as Larissa walked into his office. Her shoulders were slumped and tears filled her eyes. He was instantly on his feet.
“What?” he asked, circling his desk toward her.
She drew in a shuddering breath. “Mary died. Early this morning. I just got the call.”
He held out his arms even as he wondered who Mary was. With Larissa there was an equal chance that Mary was a kid or an orangutan.
“Mary had the liver transplant last year,” she said, shaking slightly as she stepped into his embrace. “I told you she wasn’t doing well and that we were concerned.”
He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back. While the stupid side of him noticed how well they fit together and the way her body pressed against every inch of his, the more mature areas of his brain understood this was a moment of grief and allowed him to act appropriately.
“You just sent them that book,” he said, remembering their recent conversation about the girl. “I’m sorry she died. Her family must be devastated.”
“They are. We were all so hopeful.”
“Because a transplant usually works.” Although not always. Because sometimes the body didn’t want to be saved. That was his theory, anyway. Whatever the spirit might wish, there were other forces at work. He knew that pain personally.
He tugged on the end of her ponytail until she looked up at him. “You know you’re not to blame, right?”
Her cheeks were damp and slightly flushed. She sniffed once, then nodded. “I know.”
“I’m not convinced.”
She swallowed. “There’s nothing I could have done to save her. I’m just sad she’s gone. She was a great kid.” She rested her head on his shoulder and began to cry again.
He held on to her. For as long as she cried, he wouldn’t let go. He wasn’t sure how this had started, but now it simply was. When they lost one, and with transplants the possibility was always there, Larissa came to him and he was there for her. No matter what.
He remembered getting a call while he’d been in Hawaii with a former Victoria’s Secret model. Eight hours later, he’d landed at LAX and gone directly to Larissa’s house. He’d stayed with her until she’d finally fallen asleep, and in the morning he’d helped her find the right way to celebrate the child’s life.
“Think about what you want to do in Mary’s name,” he said softly. “Maybe American Girl dolls for every patient in her hospital.”
Larissa looked at him. “I don’t think the boys would appreciate that.”
“You’re right. We could get them something else.”
“Maybe,” she murmured. “Let me think about it.”
He kissed her forehead, then grabbed his car keys. “Come on. I’m buying you dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”