“Sit down.”
Mr. Padilla took her hand and gently led her to the sofa. He knelt in front of her, reaching out to massage her legs.
Patricia jolted and quickly grabbed his hand to stop him.
Mr. Padilla raised his eyebrows, a little surprised. “What’s up?”
“I just need a bath. I’ll be fine.”
Letting someone massage her legs before she’d even showered felt gross to her.
“The bath isn’t ready yet. It’ll take a while,” he said.
“It’s okay, I can wait.”
He studied her face for a moment, making sure she wasn’t actually uncomfortable. When he saw she was fine, he gave in.
He pulled up his pant leg and sat down next to her, his hand resting on her thigh. With a teasing smile, he asked, “What’s going on? Why are you suddenly being all polite with me?”
“I haven’t showered yet. And you’re kind of a clean freak.”
He laughed, warm and low. “So what? I’d never be grossed out by my own wife. I mean, is there anywhere on you I haven’t kissed?”
Patricia’s mind went completely blank.
It was like her brain short-circuited and suddenly filled with every embarrassing memory she had.
She couldn’t help but remember the way Oliver had kissed her everywhere…
“I’m going to take off my makeup,” she blurted out.
Just as she stood up, Mr. Padilla grabbed her wrist. “No rush. Let me hold you a little longer.”
He leaned into her shoulder, his touch soft and gentle, making her feel all tingly.
She wanted to move away.
But Mr. Padilla just pulled her closer, adjusting his hold.
The moment he did, Patricia froze like a mouse spotting a cat. Her back went stiff and she didn’t dare move an inch.
She was terrified he’d suddenly eat her alive.
He chuckled. “After all this time, you still get this nervous?”


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