Keep It Between Us

Jordan swings by the massage parlor to drop off Rayveness's car keys—the ones she'd handed him earlier. He spots her pacing, all stressed out from the dead streak of no clients. Grinning, he steps up and starts kneading those tight shoulders of hers, easing the knots like a pro. She melts into it, sighing with that naughty little moan, then looks up with a sly wink. 'Why stop there? Head upstairs to the private room and give me the full treatment. Remember, I taught you every damn trick in the book.' Jordan hesitates, pulse racing—his wife's gonna flip if she catches wind of this. But hell, he caves. 'Fine, platonic massage only,' he mutters, trying to play it cool. Rayveness just smirks, her eyes screaming she's got way steamier ideas brewing.