He turned his head, cheek still pressed to the face cradle.
The studio was in a converted Victorian house on a rainy Seattle side street. The air smelled of eucalyptus and something earthier, like petrichor and old linen. When the door opened, Jacob’s cynicism stumbled. willow ryder massage
She glanced over her shoulder, those calm, unnerving eyes meeting his. "You did the work," she said. "I just listened to the muscle." He turned his head, cheek still pressed to the face cradle