She grabbed the bag he’d deposited at his feet and headed for the bathroom. Soon the sound of running water reached his ears. His vision of wet heat involved slick bodies—hers and his—in the shower, out of the shower…He didn’t care as long as they were creating that moist, intense heat.
Friction and pleasure, he thought, and his body shook in reaction. He had to get himself in check. He couldn’t plan strategy or figure out how to keep her in the dark about his ability to move well until he got a feel for what she had in store. Jake had no idea what Brianne’s idea of therapy entailed, but he was about to find out.
BRIANNE CLOSED HERSELF in the bathroom and breathed deeply. She splashed cold water on her face before setting up her equipment for Jake. She re-entered the room, hoping she was more in control of her physical reactions to him. But she took one look at him fully clothed, realized she hadn’t told him to undress for therapy, and accepted that, given their situation, she’d rarely be in control.
She sighed, bracing herself for the inevitable. “If we’re going to do this right, you need to take off your shirt.”
As he reached for the hem of his ragged sweatshirt with one hand, Jake’s eyes sparkled with mischief. He looked like a man who was about to be given his fondest wish, or rather a man who thought he was about to give her her fondest wish, by stripping down in her presence.
“Get a grip, Don Juan. It’s a purely professional request. I can’t very well heat your shoulder if you’re wearing heavy cotton.”
He laughed, obviously not the least bit offended. “Are you saying you don’t want to see my bare chest?”
“I’ve seen enough bare-chested men in my career. I’m sure yours is no different from the rest.” She averted her gaze before he could see the lie in her eyes. His bare chest was spectacular.
“You wound me.”
This time she laughed, but at the sound of his groan—definitely one of pain—she pivoted back toward him in time to see him
grimace as he began to remove his shirt with his good hand, with more help than she’d expected from his injured side.
She wondered what was going on. “You said you haven’t been in therapy.”
He averted his eyes. “I never actually said that. I have a friend in physical therapy who gave me some exercises and checks in once in a while. I’ve been working the shoulder some.”
She wasn’t yet sure how much exercise he had or hadn’t been doing, but after a session with him, she would. “Some exercise isn’t enough.”
He treated her to a sexy wink. “That’s why I have you.”
“I’m only as good as your willingness to follow through, and you haven’t guaranteed me anything yet.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Well, I am.” She stepped forward, intending to get past the word games and get started on the therapy. “If I’m so good, then let me help you get that shirt off.”
He narrowed his eyes, and Brianne could see the war going on inside him. She’d seen it many times before. Allow help and look weak or continue the struggle alone. Normally she’d let the internal struggle go on until the patient gave in, but she sensed Jake wasn’t one to cave easily. She now understood the reason for the cutoff sweatshirts. They allowed him wide sleeve room, easier movement.
She had every intention of returning him to full mobility, even if she had to play up to his masculine ego in order to maintain his cooperation. “Come on, Jake. I’m really good with my hands.” Her voice dropped to a husky level despite her best intentions.
“I just bet you are.” His eyes darkened as he spoke, his voice a deep rumble that set her nerve endings on fire. Her goals, the reasons why she shouldn’t give in to this attraction, diluted each time he got within touching distance.
Reaching out, she grabbed for the hem of his shirt, her fingers grazing his warm skin. At the contact, his stomach muscles rippled beneath her touch, and he sucked in an audible, affected breath. She understood. Her body reacted in an intimate, sexual way, too. Need curled deep in her belly, and her nipples pulled into tight peaks as if awaiting a lover’s caress.
Never in her career had a patient session resonated with desire, and her hands shook as she lifted his shirt up and over his head, exposing that exceptional bare chest for view. Heat emanated from his body to hers, drawing her in, enticing her to drop her guard and shed her inhibitions.
She dropped his shirt instead. And though instinct told her to take a safe step back, she was drawn to him in ways she didn’t understand and ways she wanted to explore more deeply. Slowly, so she didn’t hurt him, she smoothed her palm over his bruised flesh. He let out a drawn-out groan, a rumble that reverberated inside her, and his hands came up to cradle her cheeks. “When you touch me it feels so damn good.”
Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. “It’s my job to make you feel better.” And it was her job to pull away from him—but the connection was too strong, the need to be with him too compelling.
“Then, by all means, do your best.” His thumb brushed back and forth over her skin, caressing her face.
Unable to resist, she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the least bruised part of his chest, over his warm flesh.
“Brianne.” Her name came out both as a warning and a plea.
The next thing she knew his lips were on hers—or had her lips come to his? She didn’t know, but everything between them was real and mutual, hot and ravenous. His tongue delved inside her mouth with passion and need, taking all she offered and giving even more. He smoothed one hand down her back and over her buttocks, pausing there, stopping to knead her flesh through the barrier of clothing and to pull her so close she could feel his hard erection straining against the confines of his jeans.
He wanted her. Not that she’d doubted it before—how could she, with the heated stares and longing glances?—but she felt it now and the certainty fueled bravery she hadn’t known she possessed. She trailed a path with her tongue from his lips to his cheek and outward, lingering behind his ear and nibbling on his earlobe until his large, masculine body trembled in response to her touch.