Chapter 167
Emmaline
My massage skills are trash.
I don't have the technique, the strength, or the patience for it. My fingers press too lightly in some places, too hard in others. I miss knots entirely and focus on spots that don't need attention. It's amateur work at best.
But it's the thought that counts.
Because Daelan relaxes.
His breathing evens out. His eyes close.
After fifteen minutes of playing around with his shoulders, I give up on any pretense of skill and just touch him. Run my hands over his back. Feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt. Trace the lines of muscle I've memorized a hundred times before.
He sighs.
I move from where I'm standing behind him in the office and sit on his lap.
His eyes are still closed, but his arms wrap around my waist automatically. Like instinct. Like his body knows mine even when his mind is elsewhere.
