A sharp pain knifed through my rotator cuff. I lifted my arm under the hot spray of Valentina’s shower, trying to work it out. Goddamn divine intervention I’d been on the site today. That beam hadn’t been secured, and the heavy motherfucker would have crushed Ryan if I hadn’t pushed it out of the way.

Someone was about to lose their job. This was the part of being a partner I hated, but there was no tolerance for safety violations. Long-ass day.

I cut the water and dried off. I’d have to lay off chest and shoulders for a while at the gym until this healed. But between eating out with my kids and Valentina’s cooking, even though she cooked healthy, I could use the extra cardio.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I walked into the bedroom and instantly felt better at the sight before me. Valentina was lying on the bed with a body pillow under her left side, leg thrown over it. Her tiny white boxer shorts rode high, exposing her long, muscular leg up to the curve of her ass. The dark green furry sweater she wore looked like something I wanted to pet. All over. I walked to the side of the bed and sat down, putting a hand on her thigh.

“How was your shower?” she asked, with a fiery glint in her eyes.

The V-neck of that sweater dipped as she moved, leaving the soft, tempting swell of one breast on display. Oh, yeah. The pain dulled with each inch of skin she exposed. “Good, baby. Thanks for letting me get cleaned up. What’cha watchin’?”

“Nothing. Killing time, waiting for you. How’s the shoulder?”

“Eh, it’s fine. It’ll work itself out.”

“Work. Itself. Out.” She shot up, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. “You caught a falling beam at a bad angle, Superman. So what, you’re gonna lift through it?”

Spitfire. Like she should talk. “It wasn’t that big of a beam or I’d be dead, baby. I pushed it. I didn’t catch it. I’m good to go.”

“Really?” Sarcasm dripped off the word and she gave me a frustrated glare. “I’d bet my house nobody else on site could have pushed the not so big beam. Am I right?”

Wow. She was pissed. I tried hard not to grin. “I’m okay. It’s done.”

Pulling her legs under her Indian-style, she rested her hands on her knees. “Don’t blow me off, Jaxxon. You—you can’t do crazy dangerous shit. You have kids! Think of them if something happens to you. You can’t take those kinds of risks.”

She was lit the fuck up. “Hon, I know. You’re overreacting. It’s not like—”

Her perfect mouth parted. She glanced down at her bad knee, before glaring back at me with a finger in my face. “Don’t you tell me I’m overreacting! Did you even think about what could happen to you?” She raised her hand and dropped it to the pillow. “Did you?”

Now that she said it, I had to admit I hadn’t. I had no time. In situations where someone could get hurt and I could stop it, I did. Hesitation and singular focus got people hurt. Or killed . . .

“I don’t mean to lecture, Jaxx, because I hate when you do it, and I am glad your guy is okay, but I can’t even think about what could have happened if it had hit you the wrong way, or if it had fallen.” She sighed and cocked her head at me. “You need to be more careful. Think of your children, if nobody else.”

“Baby, I get it.”

“Funny, because I don’t think you do, but hey! Here’s an idea. Why don’t you take a week or two out of the weight room? Give your shoulder a rest, maybe. Until it actually heals.”

I grunted and lay down beside her. “Sarcastic little thing. Are you nagging?”

Her mouth dropped open as she raised her hands and let them fall back to her lap. “No. I’m not nagging, and don’t call me little. I’m stating a fact. And with as much shit as you give me about my knee, you can just shut up and take it. When are you going to trust me when it comes to injury? I know my body best. I also know this, if you push it, Jaxx, it’s gonna get worse, and then where does that leave you?” She dramatically circled an arm in the air. “Unable to catch falling steel beams in a single bound.”

Leaning up on my good arm, I pulled her wrist, forcing her down beside me. “I don’t know, Sparky, why don’t you educate me on the theory of working through injury? You’re the expert.”

“Pfft. You’re impossible. Fine. I’m only saying, you put yourself in a dangerous situation with no thought to your own safety at all, and on top of it, you don’t just lift, you fucking power lift. You’re gonna hurt yourself worse, if you’re not careful.”

“I get it.” I moved her hair out of her face. “I think it turns me on when you say ‘fuck.’”

She rolled her eyes at me. “You clearly don’t ‘get it’.”

Her caring this much did some crazy shit inside my fuckin’ chest, and when she got all frazzled with me, it was a goddamn turn-on. But then again, anything the woman did turned me on. She did have a point. I did harp about her knee, but it was for her own goddamn good. Working with her in the gym and getting to know her better though, deep down, I did trust her. She may be a beast in the gym, but she was smart, methodical. Protection was just in my nature, but I didn’t want her to think I didn’t trust her to know her own body. I did . . . or I’d learned to. “I’ll take it easy this week, all right? How was your day? What’d you do?”

“Don’t try to sidetrack me, because it so won’t work right now. I don’t care how hot you are. You promise you’ll go light?”

“Yep.” I crossed my heart, and she flashed one of those smiles that melted my heart and went straight to my dick. “Cardio only. So . . . you think I’m hot?”

“Conceited much? You know you are. But okay, then. Since you promised . . . ” She nodded, momentarily satisfied. “My day . . . busy. I rescheduled a doctor’s appointment and read more queries. The work is piling up, since the word’s out about the new line.” Her shoulders slumped and her mouth turned down into the cutest pout. “I don’t want to go to this conference.” She dropped her head on my bicep, tracing a finger around my nipple.

Oh yeah, this conversation wouldn’t last long.

“What was the doctor’s appointment for? Recheck the knee?” I pulled her on top of me and kissed my way from her forehead to her mouth. “Gotta make sure the knee’s solid, babe.”

“The knee is fine. Trust. Me.” She rumbled against my mouth. “Yes, Mr. Overprotective, it’s just a recheck, but it feels stronger than before so I pushed the appointment.”

“Alright, Sparky, just checking. Damn surly woman . . . I trust you.” I licked across the seam of her mouth and she opened to me, her tongue brushing against mine before she pulled away slightly.

“Does it hurt bad?” She rested her chin on the fist of one hand on my chest and ran the other over my fucked up shoulder. “Be honest.”

“Pinches more than anything, baby. I’m solid.” All right, so I downplayed it a little so she’d stop worrying. I had way more important things to get to than talking.

“Mmm-hmm,” she scoffed, clearly not buying my bullshit, but she dug a little deeper into the muscle, which felt amazing. Her breasts gliding over my chest when she lifted up to apply more pressure were even better, and now my cock hurt worse than anything else.

“You’re tight.” She sat up and straddled my hips. “Want a massage? I have this new edible sweet almond and coconut oil that I mix with the horrific smelling therapeutic oil.” She scrunched her nose and shook her head. “I can’t stand how strong the scent of the arnica is. But a rub down should make your shoulder feel a little better.”

Goddamn Valentina. She was better than a pain killer. “Sugar, you trying to seduce me? In case you’re just tuning in, I’m a lock—bad shoulder and all.”

“Ugh.” She jumped off me and onto the floor, hands planted on her hips. “I am not trying to seduce you. You’re hurting. I’m trying to help you, not have sex with you.”

“So it’s my shoulder you’re worried about? Not an issue. You can ride, baby. As long as your tight pussy’s wrapped around my cock, I’m not feelin’ too picky about position right now.”

“Oh. My. God!” She raised a hand in the air to me as the red in her face made its way down her chest. “Work with me, here.”

“Sweetness, I am. You don’t want to play cowgirl?”

With one knee on the bed, she put a hand over my mouth. “Stop. Stop talking.” Moving her hands, she stood back up on the side of the bed, shaking her head at me.

“I’d bet the house you’re wet as fuck right now.”

When her cheeks went neon and her jaw dropped, I couldn’t stop the laugh and got a pillow in the face. I pushed it behind my head with my good arm and grinned up at her. “You know I’m right.”

“I’m ignoring you.”

“Good luck with that.”

On an exaggerated exhale, she cocked a hip and crossed her arms over her chest. “As I was saying . . . I have to massage my knee at night, and I don’t like the smell, so I’d just use the almond coconut oil on you.”

Her oily hands all over me . . . yeah. We’d see how long she could ignore me. She was already fidgety. Game on, sweetheart. Edible huh? “Knock yourself out. How do you want me?”

She held on to the doorframe of her bathroom chuckling. “And you say I set myself up?”

“The difference is I mean it the way I say it.”

She pointed to the end of the bed. “Lay the towel down and start on your stomach.”

Little did she know she was about ten minutes away from getting thoroughly and properly fucked—with edible oil.

When she disappeared into the bathroom, I got situated, naked as the day I was born, and laid out the towel. The rattling and shaking bottles in the bathroom brought a smile to my face as I pictured her squatting down, rummaging around her cabinets in those sexy little boxers.

I grunted into the pillow and closed my eyes for a few seconds.

Smooth legs straddled the backs of my thighs and I exhaled, letting go of as much of the stress in my body as I could. I hadn’t even heard her come back into the room. I’d give her a few minutes, then take over this whole massage . . . No better way to straighten out a fucked up day then to be deep inside her. “Have at it.”

“My God,” she gasped, straddling the back of my thighs. “I’ve never seen your back piece this close before. The work, the detail, is gorgeous, Jaxx. Your tattoo artist is brilliant. It’s a perfect replica of Reni’s painting, especially for being inked on skin.”

I felt her lean down, and caught her quick inhale before she ran a finger diagonally from the top of my right shoulder to the bottom of my left, right before she laid her head down in the middle of my back. Her cheek resting over the center of my motherfucking scar.

Fuck me.

“You have a scar.” Her soft voice broke. “Is the tattoo to cover it like mine?”

I shoved the pillow away and pushed my forehead into the mattress. A massage. Of course she’d have felt it, if she hadn’t seen it first. I was kinda shocked she hadn’t felt it before, but we’d only been having sex for a few weeks. She’d never actually seen my back up close when I had my shirt off, and her arms weren’t long enough for her to feel it over my shoulders. “Nah, sugar. I’m straight with the scar. The tat’s not a cover-up for me.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

Her voice was so tentative, I tilted my head to hear her. “Another time, baby.”

With a small clearing of her throat, she sat back up on my thighs. “I understand. The work is magnificent, though. I wouldn’t have seen the scar if the light didn’t hit it the right way. It’s a beautiful piece, especially on you.”

“What you’re trying to say is you like my back?”

She let out a sexy chuckle that bled the stress right out of me. “You could say that, yes. You have the most beautiful upper body I’ve ever seen. Are you done fishing now? ”

“Yeah. I’m done. But you do say the sweetest things, baby,” I muttered into the mattress.

“I speak the truth.” A sloshing sound preceded a small squirt from the bottle, and within in seconds, her warm, wet hands moved from my waist up my spine and over my back. For such a little woman, her hands were exceptionally strong.

I closed my eyes and rested my forehead hands. “Jesus Christ, that feels good.”

“Good. I wanted to go into sports medicine at one time.”

“What changed?” I mumbled, trying to stay coherent. The constant, deep kneading over my shoulder, into the muscle, had me in a fucking trance.

“My life,” she whispered.

I opened my eyes at the pain underlying that response. Before I could ask about it, she started digging her thumbs into my fucked up shoulder.

“Too hard?”

“Nope. Perfect,” I answered, and let her work out the knots.

She stayed at my shoulder for a long time. When she stopped to get more oil, I intended to turn over and use it for a hell of a lot more, but it felt so damn good I let her keep going.

Her strong, soft hands rubbed down my back in long, slow, soothing strokes. Her little chuckle came as I moaned into the pillow. Never had a massage been this good and this fuckin’ sexual. To say I was hard, didn’t come close to covering it.

Digging her fingers into my hips, she smoothed her way to my ass, and if I got any harder, I could hammer iron posts with my dick. This might’ve been the first time she’d touched my naked ass, other than when we were having sex.

Her slender, but strong fingers dug into the sides, into the muscles, rubbing with the heels of her hands in small circles until she made her way to my ass cheeks with a strength I hadn’t known she possessed. At first, I thought she might be unaffected touching me, all clinical and shit, but then I heard her breath catch as she pushed into each cheek, before moving up to my lower back.

On the way back down, she massaged one thigh and then the other, down my calves, and finally to my feet. Her little fingers rubbing the arch of my foot was an unexpected sensory point. They were fucking feet. What the hell?

“Okay,” she said, with a sexy as fuck huskiness I hadn’t heard before. “Ah, turn over.”

My fucking pleasure.

I moved slow, lifting my weight with my good arm, and rotated onto my back. The room was lit with a few candles, and sometime during the past half hour, she’d shut the television off.

This was the first time she’d been in full control of anything sexual between us. She’d usually follow my lead, but this was on her and from the sweet, fresh, scent I caught hints of as she moved around and over me, she was as turned on as I was.

Straddling my thighs, she whipped off her sweater, leaving just a tank top resting over the band of her boxers. Her chest rose and fell as she focused on the little bottle of oil. Poor thing. She tried so hard, but with her straddling me, I could feel her thigh muscles quiver.

I closed my eyes, giving her a break. To be honest, I wanted to see how far she’d go without me initiating something more.

The friction of her hands rubbing together mixed with the uneven sound of her breathing. She’d been steady while I was on my stomach, but her breathing grew more erratic now. Moving down to my feet, she gingerly placed her hands on my shins and began a trail upwards. She took her time on my thighs, using both hands on each of my quads, digging into the muscles.

“Jaxx.” Her voice broke on a whisper. “Can you open your legs?”

I slowly spread my legs out and she maneuvered inside of them, shifting first one knee, then the other. This time, I watched her.

Her eyes zeroed in on my chest. She anchored her hands on my hips and stroked up over my abdominals and my pectoral muscles to my shoulders, trying to keep her body off of me.

When she started to work back down, she dropped her head, letting her long hair brush against my chest and my stomach, and my poor fucking dick . . .

At last, she rested her chest over me, my cock nestled between her breasts, and looked up at me. I met her gaze and caressed her face. How many times had I had this fuckin’ fantasy?

She stared up at me for a few minutes, her hands running over my lower stomach and hips. Inching down my body, she bent her head and rained kisses over my pubic bone.

As her lips passed across the indentations on each hip, her soft cheek nudged against my shaft. I inhaled sharply and fisted both hands in her hair. “Fuck, baby,” I gritted out. “Playin’ with fire, hon.”

When she lifted her eyes to mine, something shifted. Her muscles loosened against the inside of my legs. “I want you to feel the way you make me feel.”

I searched her face, looking for some sign of fear, anxiety, but I got nothing. She wanted this.

Hold your shit together, motherfucker!

I ran a finger over her bottom lip. “Whatever you want, sugar.”

On a quick nod, she closed her eyes and bent her head to pepper soft, open-mouthed kisses to the side of my hip, running her tongue along the groove. I sucked in a breath as she glided a slippery hand up my shaft, splitting her fingers around my cockhead.

She stroked steadily up and down, her fingers tracing every vein, surrounding every thick inch of me with a firm, yet gentle touch. For the love of Christ, I’d never had my cock worshiped like this and it was fucking mesmerizing. I watched her move, watched her touch me, but couldn’t see her face through her hair shrouding her.

When I went to move her hair, she ran her warm tongue over the length of my cock, and I shoved my head back into the pillow. I brought my hands up, digging the heels into my forehead and ignoring the sharp pain in my shoulder. Christ, I hoped I could last through this, because my woman was set on killing me.

Lifting my cock, she flicked her tongue along the underside of my head.

“Christ,” I growled. “Goddamn that sinful fucking mouth.”

A few more times, she repeated the same motion and then took the tip of my dick into her hot mouth. Taking her sweet fuckin’ time, she slid her tongue through the slit before taking me even deeper. It took every ounce of restraint I had to keep from grabbing her hair and thrusting deep, but her movements were so slow, so methodical. Fucking her sweet mouth was probably a deal breaker at this point.

I grew harder with each lick, each suck, every inch she took me deeper. When she stroked me with her hand, meeting her mouth halfway down my length, I’d taken all I could endure. If I wasn’t gonna take it over, I had to at least see her face. I wanted her eyes—wanted to see her looking up at me with my cock in her mouth so I could see all that emotion, all the warmth, all the surrender she always gave me.

“Sugar, look at me,” I demanded.

And that’s when she stopped—as in dead fucking stopped.