“I drove five hours to have you give me a massage though. So hadn’t we better get started? You charge by the hour, right?” Charge by the hour. Jackass! “Yes, and you got fifty-eight minutes left.” A smirk plays across his lips, and he shrugs off his shirt before placing it on the chair in the corner. “Pants as well?” he asks with a cock of one eyebrow. I sigh. “Just your shirt is fine.” He’s actually going through with this? “Where do you want me, sunshine?” Back in Chicago? Or with your head between my thighs? I can’t decide.
