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“The subway was hot,” I said. Why was I always one second away from fucking this up?

“After you’re done, I have something that might help you relax.”

Oh no. I assumed he meant sex, but then he walked over to his end table and took out a bottle of massage oil and a candle. “I picked these up the other day. And these babies will get the knots out of your shoulders.” He wiggled his fingers playfully.

I managed a smile. “That sounds great.”

But it didn’t. Not by a mile.

I took the longest shower of my life, standing under the spray with my forehead pressed to the tile, until the water turned lukewarm. I told myself to take deep breaths. To get it together. When that didn’t do jack shit, I tried a different approach: praying that he’d be asleep.

But when I stepped into the bedroom, the towel wrapped tight around me, the soft glow of a candle greeted me.

Calder sat with his back against the headboard, shirt off, the blanket covering his bottom half. “Hey.”

My stomach dropped.

He patted the mattress. “Come here. Let me make you feel better.”

That was an impossible task. Nothing could make me feel better. Because I was a horrible, horrible person. I hesitated a second too long, then forced myself onto the bed. I kept the towel wrapped around me like a shield.

“Relax,” he murmured, rubbing his hands together before smoothing them over my shoulders. The oil was warm and slick as he worked it into my skin. He pushed his thumbs into my muscles and kneaded in slow, steady circles. Any other night, it would’ve felt incredible.

But tonight, every touch made me more tense. Because a massage was never just a massage. Calder was trying to get me in the mood. I knew how it went. He’d work my shoulders and neck until I was relaxed, then glide his hands down my back and over the top of my ass. After that, he’d rub my hips, the backs of my thighs, then the insides. And then…

I can’t do this.

I couldn’t have sex with two men in one day.

His fingers kneaded along my spine. “You’re still so tense.”

“Mmm…” I murmured, forcing the sound and hoping it passed for enjoyment.

“Just relax,” he said softly.

If only it were that easy.

I focused on slowing my breathing, trying to let my body go slack. But when his hands slid down to my thighs, I knew what was coming. So I made a choice. I deepened my breaths, slower and slower until they evened out. And then, I added the faintest hitch at the end, a little lie that said sleep had claimed me before he could.

Calder’s hands slowed. “Talia?” he whispered.

I didn’t answer.

His hands stopped moving completely. A minute passed before he let out a big sigh. He brushed a kiss to the top of my head, then shifted, and the mattress dipped as he lay down beside me.

I kept my eyes closed. Not long after, Calder’s breathing slowed to a soft snore.

But sleep never came for me.

***

The next morning, Calder was already in the kitchen when I dragged myself out of bed. The smell of coffee might’ve been the only redeeming thing about getting up.

“Morning.” He smiled.

“Morning.” I returned the gesture and headed for the coffee pot. After fixing a cup, I took the seat across from him like I did most Saturdays, even though in his direct line of sight was the last place I wanted to be.

Calder sipped his coffee, studying me over the brim. “You look tired.”