Page 68 of Twisted Play

“Yes, doc?” She looked up from notes she’d been taking on the other side of the room, tracking our players’ mobility and recovery. I hated that she was good at her job—her recent analysis of stretching and recovery time had been fucking brilliant, not that I’d tell her that.

“Come over here and look,” Dr. Parker said.

Eva stood then turned and bent to set her laptop on her chair. I stifled a groan at the sight of that fleshy ass, presented to me like a fucking cake.

She approached cautiously, as if she were prey before a predator. Good. She should be afraid.

“Look at how Dieudonné is working Coach’s thigh before he approaches the kneecap.”

Dieudonné was worse than useless. His hands were clumsy—rough where they should be gentle, tentative where they should be firm. I fucking hated having an audience for this shit.

“Do you mind if Eva takes a turn?” Dr. Parker asked me. Fuck. No, I didn’t mind if this gorgeous woman put her hands on me.

A flash of vulnerability crossed Eva’s face before she locked it down. Her control, in turn, astounded me and made me want to shatter it completely.

Tentatively, Eva placed her hands on my thigh, her fingers burning through my athletic clothing, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her small, warm hands. Dieudonné placed his hands on top of hers, and possessive rage surged through me. I wanted to rip him off her, break every finger that dared touch what was mine.

Daughter of my enemy, instrument of revenge—it didn’t matter. Eva was mine to ruin and no one else’s.

“Don’t be shy,” Dr. Parker told her when she remained still. “You’ve done this before.”

Together, Eva and Dieudonné methodically worked their way down my quad, her fingers finding knots I hadn’t even known were there. She wouldn’t look at me, instead focusing on my leg, her breath coming out in soft pants that sent heat straight to my cock. That sweetvanilla scent of hers teased me every time she leaned close.

Was she scared of me? Her uneven breathing and the pulse I could see hammering in her throat said yes. Good. She should be.

Dieudonné stepped back, observing Eva as she worked, then moved away to work on another patient.

“Deeper,” Dr. Parker instructed Eva.

She dug her thumb into a sore spot, and pain shot through me. Fuck! I jerked my leg back and glared at her. She raised her hands, as if she needed to show me she was unarmed and no longer touching me, and something dark unfurled in my chest.

“Ouch,” I snapped, as affected by her show of surrender as the pain.

Eva flushed and took a step back. My fingers clenched beside me on the raised bed as I resisted the urge to drag her back to me.

“Keep going,” Dr. Parker encouraged her, ignoring my glare. “Fingers on the knee—slide your fingers up and down his kneecap,” she continued before walking off again to look at another patient.

Eva’s touch turned featherlight, almost reverent as she worked the scar tissue around my ruined knee. How dare she be so gentle. How dare her father’s daughter try to heal what he’d destroyed. And how dare my body respond to her like this, my cock hardening with every stroke of those delicate fingers.

“Why are you here?” I growled to break the spell she wove over me. No student would endure what I put her through just for a job. There had to be more.

Her green eyes flashed to mine, fear flickering in their depths before returning to my knee, where the delicatestrokes of her fingers burned fire into my skin. “Because it’s my job.”

“Why here?” I caught her wrist in my hand, squeezing until her fingers stilled. “Why this team? Why now?”

“I want to practice sports medicine,” she answered, her voice steady even as her pulse raced under my grip. She continued to work my knee with her other hand, as if my touch didn’t affect her at all.

“Bullshit.” I released her wrist and sat up, my eyes on her face. “A smart girl like you could have found a position anywhere, one that didn’t require—” I cut myself off, reluctant to state what I made her do out loud.

Instead of answering me, she dug her thumbs into the side of my knee, gently, and then worked her way over the kneecap, never pushing hard, just gentle touches that felt so fucking good, I wanted to loll my head back and enjoy it. Instead, I let my pleasure coalesce into bitter disgust for this woman who wanted to help athletes when her father had done so much damage to me. I had to hate her, lest my obsession consume me.

Dr. Parker hummed her approval of Eva’s work. “Finish that knee then move on to his left quad, then his left knee,” she instructed before pulling the PT trainee off to look at someone else.

“Did you ever play hockey?” I asked her, taking advantage of her forced proximity to satisfy my curiosity. “You’re competent on skates.”

Eva sighed. “No.”

“Because—” I gestured at her body, knowing it was a dick move and doing it anyway.