style="font-size:15px;"> He passed it to her so she could do the same. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and took another. When she looked up, there was a guilty expression on her face. What was that about? She passed the tub back to him. “It needs to be heated.”
With a raised brow, he took it and popped it into the small microwave oven. “How long?”
“Not too long. Thirty seconds should do it.”
He set the timer and then grinned at her. “You’ve done this before, I take it?”
“Of course. I’m not a prude, you know.”
“Never said you were.”
Thirty seconds felt like three hours as Ashley avoided his gaze while they waited. She looked at the ceiling, the floor, the table, her fingernails, anywhere but at him. Finally, the bell rang, and he pulled the tub out of the oven and passed it to her. The scent of coconut pervaded the small space, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Ashley’s eyes fluttered closed as she took in another deep breath.
Interesting.
He eased past her and headed toward the back of the trailer and the door to the bedroom. It was a decent size for a trailer: queen-size bed with cupboards overhead and a built-in wardrobe in the corner. Dillon had used it while traveling the circuit, and Colton could see how it would be more comfortable than staying in crummy hotel rooms, town after town.
“So, ah...” Ashley stood behind him, looking apprehensive.
“You get comfortable, I’ll go change.”
“Right.”
“Good.” He moved past her, grazing her bare arms as he went. Sure the room was a decent size—for a trailer—but still close quarters with a woman you barely knew.
Pausing by the door, he said, “Unless, of course, you care to help.”
She shot him a cool look. “I’m good, thanks.”
Colton didn’t realize he was smiling until he got to the tiny bathroom and saw his reflection in the mirror. Scrubbing a hand across his jaw did not remove his grin. Ah, hell. So he enjoyed teasing the woman. It wasn’t a crime to enjoy teasing the person who was using him as a gigolo. He was pretty sure in such situations teasing was mandatory.
After hanging his hat on the back of the door, Colton stripped out of his shirt and jeans, hesitating for only a second before stepping out of his boxers, too. If this was a legit massage—which it was—then he’d be going in naked, like always.
Wrapping the only towel in sight around his waist—a threadbare thing—Colton squeezed out of the bathroom and returned to the bedroom. Ashley was sitting primly on the edge of the bed, her hands folded in her lap, the tub of coconut oil open beside the bed.
Her gaze flicked to his midsection and then up to his face. A tiny muscle twitched beside her mouth. “This is not professional.”
“What do you mean?”
Her gaze flicked down again.
Colton glanced at himself.
Jesus Christ.
The thin towel did nothing to hide his raging hard-on.
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