The elevator dinged at the 17th floor, and Eva stepped out, her portable massage table slung over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Her petite frame—barely five-foot-two, with a chest that could stop traffic—belied the sheer grit in her stride. Blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail swished as she navigated the dimly lit hallway of the high-rise, her sharp green eyes scanning for apartment 17C. She found it at the end of the corridor, the faint thump of bass-heavy gym music seeping through the door. With a smirk, she knocked—hard.
The door swung open, and there stood Vasily, all six-foot-four of him, a walking advertisement for protein powder and poor life choices. Shirtless, of course, his chest glistened with a sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as if he’d been mid-rep just to answer the door. His dark hair was tousled, and a cocky grin spread across his chiseled face as he leaned against the frame, one arm casually propped above his head.
“Well, damn,” he drawled, his deep voice dripping with amusement as his hazel eyes raked over her. “Didn’t expect my masseuse to look like she could bench me and break me in half. You sure you’re not here to spot me instead?”
Eva arched a perfectly manicured brow, unfazed. “Keep dreaming, big guy. I’m here to fix whatever mess you’ve made of your back, not stroke your ego. Now move aside—I’ve got work to do.”
Vasily chuckled, stepping back to let her in. “Feisty. I like that. Come on in, princess.”
“Don’t call me princess,” she shot back, brushing past him with a deliberate sway of her hips, her tight black leggings and fitted tank top leaving little to the imagination. “Unless you want me to call you ‘bro-tein shake’ for the next hour.”
His laugh boomed through the cluttered apartment as she took in the scene: dumbbells scattered across the floor, empty protein shake cans littering the coffee table, and a faint smell of gym socks lingering in the air. It was a bachelor pad in every sense of the word, and Eva’s smirk widened as she set her table up with practiced ease in the center of the living room.
“Nice place,” she said dryly, unfolding the table with a snap. “Did the tornado hit before or after leg day?”
Vasily grinned, crossing his arms over his massive chest, making the veins in his forearms pop. “Hey, I keep it real. No time for cleaning when I’m busy building this temple.” He gestured to his body with a wink.
Eva rolled her eyes, grabbing a bottle of massage oil from her bag. “Yeah, well, this temple’s about to get a reality check. Strip down to your shorts and lie on the table, Hercules. Let’s see if I can undo whatever damage you’ve done to yourself.”
“Bossy little thing, aren’t you?” Vasily teased, but he complied, shucking off his gym shorts to reveal tight black briefs that left very little to the imagination. He sprawled face-down on the table, his broad back a canvas of rippling muscle. “Just don’t break me, alright? I’ve got a deadlift PR to hit tomorrow.”
“Break you? Sweetheart, I could snap you in half with one hand tied behind my back,” Eva quipped, pouring oil into her palms and rubbing them together with a wicked glint in her eye. “But don’t worry—I’ll be gentle. For now.”
She started at his shoulders, her small but strong hands digging into the knots with precision. Vasily let out a low groan, the sound vibrating through the room and sending an unexpected shiver down her spine. She bit her lip, focusing on the task, but the heat of his skin under her fingers and the sheer size of him made it hard to keep her mind strictly professional.
“Damn, girl,” Vasily muttered, his voice muffled against the table. “Those tiny hands got a big attitude. Where’d you learn to do this? Ninja school?”
Eva smirked, kneading deeper into a particularly tight spot near his spine. “Nah, just years of dealing with overgrown gym rats like you. Gotta know how to put you in your place. How’s that feel, by the way? Too much for the big, bad wolf?”
He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Oh, I can take it. Question is, can you handle me? I’m a lot to manage, you know.”
She snorted, her hands gliding down his lower back, dangerously close to the waistband of his briefs. “Handle you? Please. I’ve wrangled bigger egos than yours before breakfast. You’re just a walking protein ad with a pretty face.”
“Pretty, huh?” Vasily turned his head slightly, catching her eye with a sly grin. “Careful, babe. Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you’re into me.”
Eva’s cheeks flushed, but she masked it with a scoff, her fingers pressing harder into his muscles as a distraction. “Dream on, meathead. I’m just here to fix your sorry back, not fall for your cheesy lines.”
But then it happened. Her hands, slick with oil, slipped lower than intended, grazing over something decidedly not a muscle. A jolt of heat shot through her, her breath catching in her throat as she froze for a split second. Vasily tensed beneath her, then let out a low, rumbling chuckle that made her skin prickle.
“Well, well,” he murmured, his voice dripping with mischief. “Didn’t know this was a full-service massage. You trying to cop a feel, or just getting curious?”
Eva yanked her hands back as if burned, her heart pounding, but she wasn’t about to let him have the upper hand. She leaned down close to his ear, her voice low and laced with challenge. “Keep talking, Vasily, and I’ll make sure the only thing you’re feeling is pain. Got it? Now shut up and let me work.”
He laughed again, softer this time, but the air between them had shifted. It crackled with unspoken tension, a dangerous current of attraction neither could ignore. Eva’s hands returned to his back, slower now, more deliberate, as she fought to keep her composure. But every touch, every sigh from him, stoked a fire she wasn’t sure she could—or wanted to—put out.
“Alright, tough girl,” Vasily said after a moment, his tone teasing but softer, almost daring. “You’ve got the control… for now. But don’t think I didn’t notice that little slip. You’re not as cool as you pretend to be.”
Eva’s lips curled into a smirk, her fingers digging into his shoulders with just enough pressure to make him wince. “Oh, I’m ice, baby. And you? You’re just a hot mess waiting to melt under me. Now be a good boy and relax before I decide to charge you double for the attitude.”
The room fell into a charged silence, the only sounds the slick glide of her hands and the steady thump of her own heartbeat. She was in control—barely. But as Vasily’s low, appreciative hums filled the space, Eva couldn’t help but wonder just how long she’d stay on top before the game changed entirely.
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