The Risk (Xtreme Heroes 1)

She stepped to the side of the table, her sure fingers probing behind his ankle and heel. “God. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a client with an ankle so messed up.”

“More stellar medical language.” He rolled his head toward her. “What does ‘messed up’ mean to me?”

“It means we have a lot of work to do to fix it. Or at least minimize its limitations. Scar tissue is a sort of patch that the body creates to protect and heal itself. But it’s dense and stiff, which restricts motion and causes pain. It’s the reason you can’t walk up the stairs, and, most likely, the reason you’re not out on the slopes again yet. And, yes, more forms with a shitty diet.” She gave his shin a light slap. “Roll over.”

“Will you smack my ass too?”

“Over.”

Once he was on his belly, head resting on crossed arms, she poured more warm goop on her hands and rubbed it from his heel to the back of his knee. The way her

fingers kneaded the sore muscle with smooth strength made a long, low groan slide from Noah’s throat. Made his eyes close in relief.

“Just sayin’, this brings back amazing memories,” he said. “Nobody, and I mean nobody, uses their hands like you.”

She remained silent and focused. And as her strong thumbs eased the tight knot in his calf, Noah’s mind drifted to the feel of her hands smoothing that slick, warm oil over his skin, and remembered the way she’d mastered the stroke of his cock last night. He moaned—partly at the memory, partly at the feel of her hands releasing the knot in his calf now. But in his mind, he saw her straddling his thighs, the tender folds of her sex exposed and plump, while her talented hands did things he’d never experienced before. And for a guy who’d been around, that was saying something pretty spectacular.

He tried to think about something else. Something negative. His mind darted back to the meeting with Guru that morning. Damn, that had pissed him off, getting sideswiped by those questions about his rehab. Then he thought about how perfectly timed Julia’s entrance had been, how she’d said and done just the right thing to distract them, and his anger softened.

“I’m going to try something…” Her words trailed off, and her warm touch disappeared from his skin.

Noah propped himself up on his elbows and looked over his shoulder at her rummaging in her bag. Then she popped back to her feet with something metal in her hand.

“Whoa,” he said, tilting up on one hip to see her better. “That looks a little like a set of brass knuckles, only silver.” The metal had a hole in the center where her hand went through, allowing her to grip the tool. “I’d rather not be used as a guinea pig, if you don’t mind.”

“I use this all the time.”

“Then why did you say try something?”

“Because everyone’s different. Techniques and tools I’ve used on some patients might or might not work on others. That’s one of the things I love about this job. Every patient is a new challenge.” She rounded the table again and spread more goop on his skin. “You’re so high maintenance.”

She held up the tool for Noah’s inspection. The metal was thin and flat, with several shaped and curved surfaces. “This is a tool for instrument-assisted soft tissue mobilization. There are several different kinds, but I use this one the most. Lie flat,” she said, using the tool to tap his hip. When he was belly down on the table again, she continued. “It helps me reach fascia deep beneath your skin. It may be a little uncomfortable, and you may have some bruising in the area tomorrow, but if this works, you’ll see quick results. I’m basically unlocking the tissues, which will do all sorts of beneficial things, but right now, I’d like to get fluid flowing.”

She laid the metal gently against his skin and started stroking his calf knot in short, steady movements. It felt a lot like the massage on his ankle, and he relaxed a little.

“Did you grow up in San Francisco?” he asked, wanting to know more about the woman who’d both rocked his world last night and who he’d be living with for the next six weeks.

“Santa Barbara.”

When she said no more, he asked, “So what brought you to San Francisco?”

“The job with Performance.”

“Where’d you go to school?”

“USC.”

The University of Southern California was one of the most prestigious and expensive colleges in the state, and pretty high up on the list throughout the country.

“Impressive,” he said. “That cost some big bucks. Do you have student loans out your ears, or did your parents pick up the tab?”

Changing angle and pressure, she worked the thick part of his calf from a different direction. “I’m not very close with my parents. I’d rather not talk about it.”

“All right,” he said, “Since you don’t like talking about yourself, tell me what you’re doing.”

“This is a common area in the lower leg to develop restrictions,” she said, sliding right into her escape route. “There’s a ball of fascia at the lateral portion of the gastroc muscle that causes most of the problems with dorsiflexion.”

“Dumb it down for me, girl,” he murmured, her force growing heavier on his leg and moving higher.