Page 15 of Fractured Grief (Hope’s Ridge #2)

Indy

I needed to focus.

I am a professional, God damn it.

I let the rhythmic exercises and stretches soothe my frayed nerves, allowing myself to get caught up in the routine and muscle memory of our usual warm-up. My work was part of who I was, and I loved it. I needed it.

“That’s it, now three more, then switch,” I said absently while my mind raced. I’d told a client about Hazel and Lex, and that I was essentially single. Talking about Hazel with clients wasn’t new, but this felt different, bigger somehow.

I couldn’t put my finger on why.

And I’d let it slip that I liked big silent types.

Like Seb. I couldn’t get involved with a client.

It was too risky. Yes, Seb was attractive and apparently my type, according to the butterflies that had danced in my stomach as he’d pulled me into that hug, but I could never cross that line—no matter how nice it was to be held by him .

Lost in my own thoughts, I’d missed that Seb had finished the warmup and was watching me for further instructions.

He was smiling at me patiently, clearly waiting for me to snap out of it.

“Sorry about that. I’m clearly off today.

Let’s try some leg lifts with this resistance band, starting with your right leg.

You’ll need to engage your core.” I got Seb in position and demonstrated what I wanted him to do.

It would be difficult for him, since he still couldn’t feel his leg.

Seb did surprisingly well. He seemed more determined today. Maybe because we had less time? Or he wanted to focus on something other than our earlier conversation.

As Seb did the last few cool-down stretches, I noticed his muscle spasming in his right thigh. “Can you feel that?”

“Feel what? The stretch? No, still can’t feel anything.”

“No, your muscle. Look at your thigh. The muscle is visibly twitching.” I gestured at his leg, where his shorts had hiked up.

Seb looked flummoxed as he poked at the muscle. “That’s so weird.” His gaze snapped to mine. “What does this mean? It’s t-twitching, but I can’t feel it. Is that a good thing or another bad s-sign?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I’d say good because it means your brain is responding to the nerve stimulations, but the fact that you still can’t feel it is concerning,” I paused, thinking back on my training.

“Since you can’t feel it, I’ll need to massage that out, or it could become problematic later, either from overstimulation or muscle fatigue, and we don’t want to risk any of your progress.

Lie down on the mat. Can you roll your shorts up farther for me? ”

I averted my gaze as I retrieved the massage oil and a set of disposable gloves from my bag, along with the heating herbal oil for after the massage.

His muscles were tight and hard as I spread the oil out over his thigh. He was still stacked, even though he’d lost muscle mass and weight from his ordeal. His thighs were thick and dusted in dark hair that I couldn’t help but notice as I began to apply pressure to the still pulsating muscle.

“Can you feel any of what I’m doing?” I glanced at Seb’s face. He had his eyes closed, but his shoulders were tense, like he was on edge. I paused as I waited for his response.

He cleared his throat before croaking out, “No?” It sounded more like a question than a fully formed answer.

“Okay. Do you feel any pain or pressure from this?” I massaged from his knee up the outside of his thigh.

“No,” he responded and relaxed slightly.

“Let me know if that changes or you start to feel any sensations. We want to make sure we’re on top of your progress and make notes for the doctors.”

“Okay.” He moved his arm to lay it over his face.

I had to admit, I loved the way his forearms flexed and the intricate tattoos covering them shifted and danced with every movement.

I’d always been fascinated by tattoos, but was too scared to ever get one and never had the money.

How do people come up with a design to permanently affix to their skin?

What meanings and stories could each one hold ?

What did Seb’s mean? I’d seen most of the ones covering both his arms and gotten a few glimpses of the ones over his chest, sides, and back when I’d had to address his surgery scars. He was a walking work of art—a canvas of his life and memories drawn on his skin.

I was so lost in the massage that it caught me completely off-guard when Seb groaned, causing me to come back to myself and assess the situation.

Having moved through the massage while lost in my thoughts, I was working up his inner thigh, very close to his cock, which was hard and clearly tenting his basketball shorts.

And now I was staring at the extreme bulge. He must be huge. I was transfixed, frozen in place as Seb’s large hand settled over mine. I was absently massaging his inner thigh, where his leg met his groin. Not somewhere I needed to be massaging.

Seb’s gaze caught me. His eyes were shimmering with so much heat, so much emotion. I was lost in the deep emerald green that seemed to darken the longer our eyes connected.

I felt like a magnet caught in his pull.

I was drawn home, needing to get closer.

Seb’s large hand was moving with mine, continuing the massage, but his hand was so large it covered mine completely, as well as his bulge.

His breath quickened as we stared at each other.

I wasn’t really massaging anymore, just rubbing his inner thigh with my oily fingers.

Seb rose into a sitting position. He moved his large hand to my cheek.

As he touched my heated cheek softly, I’d never felt more seen.

It was just the graze of his knuckle as he ran it over my cheek and down to my chin.

He used the same finger to lift my chin and draw me just that little bit closer.

We were almost sharing the same breath. His eyes dropped to my mouth as my heart skipped a beat.

Was he going to kiss me?

I watched his face as he moved closer—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

I just about jumped out of my skin at the thundering footfalls of Lyric as he came hurtling down the stairs. “Are you guys done yet?” he yelled into the heavy silence as he appeared around the corner.

I scrambled up and turned away from Seb and Lyric, pretending to look through my equipment bag as the tension grew the closer Lyric came to us.

After a few deep breaths, I braced myself to glance over my shoulder. Seb hunched over with his hands covering his lap, his shorts still rolled up and his glossy thigh on display. I grabbed a towel I kept on hand for massage cleanups and passed it to Seb without a word.

Lyric’s head bobbed between us like he’d never seen us before. Had he caught us? What had he seen?

What even was that?

Clearing my throat, I smiled at Seb. “It looks like that muscle stopped twitching. Does that feel better?” I tried to ignore the awkwardness in the question, in myself, and the situation.

What the hell just happened ?

“Ah. Yes. Thank—” cough “—you. It’s much better,” Seb stuttered out. Way to make it even more obvious, Seb. Shit! What was Lyric thinking?

I glanced at our intruder from the corner of my eye, and he had a worried expression on his face.

He couldn’t have seen anything.

Nothing happened.

Everything was fine.

“So, be sure to stretch and keep up with your usual exercises. I’ll see you in a few days. I’ll let you know what the doctor says in the meantime about a follow-up.” I grabbed what I could reach of my things and left without another word.

I basically ran to my car. I didn’t remember much of my drive back to work.