Strong, Silent Type (Rough Riders 6.5) - Page 7

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“That’s it?” burst out before she could stop it.

“You were expectin’ something else?”

“I was hoping for a kiss like the one from last night.”

“Libby, darlin’, you can kiss me like that anytime you want. Any. Damn. Time. At all. And it don’t gotta stop at kissin’.”

Just like that, Quinn had gotten his point across in his usual low-key manner. She bumped him with her shoulder. “Maybe I will.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” He kept his hand on her thigh during the drive to Sundance.

Quinn parked in front of the Sandstone Building. It housed three separate businesses, all run by women who’d married into the McKay family. Macie McKay ran Dewey’s Delish Dish, Skylar McKay owned Sky Blue, and her sister, India, owned the tattoo shop, India’s Ink, which were housed together in the same space, while AJ McKay operated Healing Touch Massage. It was too late to eat lunch so Libby couldn’t fathom why they were here. A panicked thought struck her. “Are we getting a tattoo?”

He laughed. “You oughta see your look of horror.”

She noticed he hadn’t answered her question. “Are we?”

“No.” Quinn offered a wicked smile. “Unless you’ve got a hankerin’ to tattoo my initials on your sweet little ass?”

“Quinn!”

“What? It is a sweet little ass.”

Married nine years and the man could still make her blush. “That’s not what I meant.”

He stroked the back of his knuckles down her heated cheek. “That’s been part of the problem in recent years, ain’t it? Neither one of us is sayin’ what we really mean, or meanin’ what we say.”

Libby closed her eyes and basked in his tender touch.

“I wanna fix this between us, Libby.”

Me too.

Two solid raps startled them both. Quinn rolled down his window. “Hey, Cord, what’s up?”

“Just makin’ sure you didn’t get cold feet.”

“Nope.”

Cord grinned. “Good. Took a bit of finagling, but we made room. See you two in there.”

“In where?” Libby asked.

“Healing Touch.” Quinn rolled up the window. “AJ is offerin’ a class on sensual massage.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep.”

“You signed us up for a class so I could learn to give you a…sexy massage?”

“There you go jumpin’ to conclusions again. I signed up so I could learn to give you a sexy massage.”

Talk about being completely pole-axed. “When did you do this?”

“Yesterday. There was, ah, a last minute cancellation so I lucked out and they squeezed us in.”

Last minute cancellation. Right. She’d bet a hundred bucks he’d strong-armed his way into getting a spot in that class—an example of McKay nepotism at its finest. But she couldn’t help being impressed.

“Why are you doing this?”

Quinn stayed quiet so long she was afraid he wouldn’t answer. “In the last year or so you were pretty hell bent on us takin’ some ‘couples’ classes together. I’ll admit I was kinda a jerk about it, so I thought I’d make it up to you and learn a new skill to boot.” He focused his gaze out the windshield. “Plus, I like touchin’ you. Thought this’d be a good reminder for me. For both of us.”

How had she forgotten the thoughtful side of this sweet, sweet man? Libby curled her fingers around Quinn’s jaw, turning his face toward her. She smashed her lips to his, kissing him crazily, kissing him like he’d asked her to. Thrown off balance, she eased back and whispered, “Thank you.”

Inside the massage studio, chairs were lined up in front of a projection screen. All the seats but two were occupied.

Good Lord. They knew everyone in the room.

The owner of the hardware store and his wife held court in the front row. Dixie, proprietor of the Golden Boot, and her hubby of fifty years, sat next to Darnell Broken Nose, a board member of the Crow Agency and his wife, Leela. Libby expected Quinn to pull his ball cap down over his eyes out of embarrassment, but he nodded to the men and directed her to the two empty chairs.

Gorgeous, blonde and enormously pregnant AJ McKay stepped front and center. “Good to see everyone this afternoon. First we’ll watch a twenty-minute film on basics of massage and then we’ll get to the hands-on portion of the class.” She smiled. “If anyone has questions at any point, don’t hesitate to ask.

And if you tend to be a little shy—” she looked directly at Quinn, “—I’ll be happy to answer questions in private.”

The lights dimmed. The movie rolled. Libby expected soft-core  p**n  or worse, a thinly disguised instruction manual, but the video struck a good balance between sensuality and the how-to aspects of massage.

After the video ended, Cord unfolded four padded tables and four six-foot high privacy screens, positioning one in each corner of the narrow room.

AJ walked through the maze, stacking towels, and draping sheets over each screen. “Next, I’ll demonstrate tricks and techniques on my guinea pig—I mean my helpful husband—before I turn you loose to experiment on your own.” She directed them to a massage room at the back of the building.

A shirtless Cord was stretched out on a padded table. AJ affectionately swept her hand up his spine.

“You ready?”

Cord grinned over his shoulder and focused on the swell of her belly. “It’s obvious I’m always ready for you, baby doll.”

AJ dribbled oil on Cord’s naked back, but the look she leveled on him said she’d make him pay for that suggestive remark later, guaranteed.

Libby bit back a grin. The dynamics in the huge McKay family still fascinated her, even after being part of it for more than a decade. She got a huge kick out of how easily AJ led gruff Cord around by the nose.

The aroma of sandalwood and lemon filled the room. “First and foremost, there is a pronounced difference between giving your partner a sensual massage and a deep tissue massage.” She dug her thumbs into the base of Cord’s spine and followed the line up to his neck. “You don’t want to cause your partner any discomfort. The amount of pressure used isn’t as important as a strong and steady touch.”

In order to see AJ, Quinn leaned over Libby’s shoulder. Libby had a devil of a time focusing on AJ’s instructions when Quinn plastered his male hardness against her backside. Her blood raced. Her face heated. Her palms sweat. She’d be a horny basket case by the time Quinn actually put his hands on her.


Tags: Lorelei James Rough Riders Billionaire Romance
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