She shifted her weight, after standing forhours her feet ached. It was going to feel wonderful to lie down.Other than some light sewing, Grier had expected no other work outof her. She couldn’t even cook a decent meal. This was the mostwork she had done in her life. It tested her mettle. Despite theabuse she’d had an easy life compared to most slaves. Many daysshe’d felt ashamed for her relative ease. Working herself to thebone would suffice to ensure her livelihood as an independentwoman. She finished ironing the paisley dress and then headed downthe stairs.
George stood at the railing looking up at thestars, his mouth moving. Was he making a wish? She stood still, notwanting to interrupt him. She feasted upon his tall, muscularframe. His gray trousers fit him snugly, showing off his tight ass.
George turned around and smiled. “I waswondering if you weren’t coming back down.”
“I had more ironing than I thought. Sorry, Ishould have told you.” Why did she say apologize? He wasn’t her keeper.
“Just as long as you came back, it doesn’tbother me.”
His eyes quickly swept her frame. He had seenthe pine-green dress Mrs. Brownhad given her many times, but he acted like this was the first.
“You are beautiful, Allison.”
She laughed. She looked like a freak withonly half her eyebrows. “Thank you.”
He took her hand and raised it to his lips,kissing her skin chastely. His soft lips stirred her and made herache for more.
He motioned for her to follow him. “I saved agood spot for us.”
A spot for us? He freely threw aroundthe supposition they were together—which they weren’t. Still, shedidn’t protest. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be closer to him, butshe knew she didn’t want to push him away. They picked their wayaround the maze of barrels, crates, and poor and colored passengers to an areasurrounded by cotton bales.
“Some privacy,” he said, a glint in hiseye.
Why did they need privacy just to sleep? Shegulped air. Or did he have something else in mind?
He lay down first and then patted the decknext to him. Sleep weighed heavily in his brown eyes, but the lightremained. Was he happy because of her?
She sank to her knees, her back to him.
He reached up and massaged her shoulders withjust the right pressure. “Ah,” she said, “keep going.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She couldn’t see his face, butshe could hear the smile in his voice. “You’ve been ironing a longtime. You’re tight.”
“Yes,” Allison said. George worked his wayfrom her shoulders down her back. She should tell him to stop. Shedidn’t know where this would lead, but it felt so good. Instead oftelling him to keep his hands to himself she whispered, “Thankyou.”
“My pleasure.”
There George was again. Having a conversationwith her where he barely said a sentence. Of course, she wasn’tmuch for talking right now either. She didn’t know what to say,didn’t know how to express her feelings. Good grief, she didn’teven understand her feelings.
George finished her back rub and scooted awayfrom her, giving her space. His shoulders probably ached, too.Lifting crates and barrels all day was hard work. He’d seemed pleased though when theyreturned from seeing Mrs. Brown and a mate said they had hired anew fireman. He took simple satisfaction in being a roustabout.
Shifting her shoulders, she twisted her backand felt all the tension drain away. No more knots. She stood andGeorge quirked an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” shesaid in a playful tone. She knelt behind him and reached for hisbroad shoulders.
“Allison, you don’t have to. I didn’t expectan exchange.”
She laughed. Silly man. All men expectedsomething for themselves even if they didn’t admit it. “You need amassage, too. And I’m happy to help.” She paused, working her wayfrom the outside of his shoulders to the middle between hisshoulder blades. She had never seen a man so toned. Through hiscoarse cotton shirt, she felt the definition of every muscle. “Wereyou praying a minute ago?”
“Yes.” George hesitated and licked his lip.“I always pray to see my mama again. I don’t even know if she isalive. She was sold away many years ago.”
Allison frowned, feeling his pain. For beingsuch a strong man he had a gentle soul—and kind eyes. “I’m sorryabout your mama.”
“It’s all right. I know you don’t want to,but I don’t mind sharing my past.”
She took her time massaging his back. Hisheat nearly burned her fingers, only a little fabric separatingthem from his skin. Her hands dropped lower, closer to his waistand he sighed. It was tempting to reach around and touch his front,to feel his chest.
As it was, her folds moistened, her bodybetraying her attraction. This close proximity sent a lightningbolt straight to her core, waking every sleepy nerve. She stoppedbefore she caved and took it too far. Lying on her side next tohim, his chest was less than an inch from her back. He didn’t touchher, but Lord she wished he did.
What was going on with her? Being close tothis man broke through her numbness, stirring feelings deep insideher. She finally admitted to herself her attraction to a man forthe first time. The sensation felt very strange and pleasant.
His hand wrapped softly around her shoulder.She stiffened, every muscle turning to stone. After a quickin-breath, her lungs froze.Instinctively, she feared what would happen next.
He withdrew his hand. “I’m sorry,” hewhispered in her ear. “If you don’t want me to touch you, Iwon’t.”
She wanted him to touch her. It was just… No.She couldn’t tell him her past yet. Not here. It wasn’t the rightplace. It needed to be a private conversation. Too many open earson the deck.
“Allison,” his voice cut through herthoughts. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. I respect you.” Hissoft gaze seconded his words.
It was true. He had been a gentleman allthese nights even when his trousers tented and he had wantedmore.
That equally terrified and excited her. Hewanted more. “Touch my shoulder again, please,” she said in a smallvoice.
He replaced his hand and she reached upstroking the backs of his fingers. He sighed. The heat from hishand made her
