Lovers Reunited: Part One

JoJo's wiping down the table, bag already on her shoulder, when the door chimes and Lena steps in. Both women freeze. Lena mutters something about fate having lousy timing; JoJo fires back that fate clearly enjoys watching her squirm. They trade a couple more barbed jokes about whose night just got more complicated, then the room goes quiet. JoJo exhales. "Look, I was closing up, but if your back’s really killing you, I’ll stay." Lena nods, cheeks pink, insisting she only wants the massage if JoJo’s comfortable giving it. "Past is past," she says, already sliding her blouse off her shoulders. JoJo watches, lips pressed together, eyes tracing the line of Lena’s collarbone, the gentle bounce of her small, natural breasts, the slow peel of jeans over smooth thighs. When their gazes meet again, there’s no hiding the spark that’s still there—hotter, if anything, than either of them expected. JoJo swallows. Professional, she reminds herself. Then she reaches for the oil and the door clicks shut behind them.