“Let me help.” I scooted closer to him. “No.” Reed inched away, shaking his head. “I’m good. Not a big deal.” “Don’t be stubborn. I may be down a hand right now, but it’s an effective hand.” He glanced at my hand when I held it up and wiggled my fingers. Then I thought about those thirty seconds when that same hand was gripping his denim-sheathed erection. “For a massage,” I clarified, neck breaking out into a flush. “I used to give my Nana massages when I was younger. She said I had magic hands.” Dammit. Nothing was coming out right.
