AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Maybe he really did have a decent time.
“Figured I’d scared you off.”
His reply is immediate. “I enjoy a good challenge.”
“Chinese food feels like a bribe…” I type.
“Did I mention I live near a cupcake shop?”
I smile. “I’m free. With or without cupcakes.”
“Cupcakes make everything better. See you Saturday night.”
Baby steps.
When I’m showering before bed, I think about my visit with Willow. She’s right. Thinking about Blake again makes me smile, something a guy hasn’t elicited from me in a long time. Maybe I really can move forward.
But opening up to Tom and Tucker? I don’t even know where to begin.
I should probably start with just one of them. Dip a toe into the icy pond of intentional vulnerability instead of diving in headfirst.
I think I’ll start with Tom. I usually end up at his house on Friday nights anyway.
A thought pops unbidden into my mind. You should tell him what happened in Afghanistan.
All of it.
I spend longer than usual massaging Mark’s legs. Increased workouts to strengthen his right thigh have left the muscles tight, so I spend several minutes working on it before setting up his mirror. Combining mirror therapy with massage has been extremely effective. He’s gotten so good at visualizing his lower leg, he only needs an occasional glance at the mirror.
I’m lost in the massage, my thoughts drifting like lazy clouds, when it occurs to me that the concept of mirror therapy isn’t that different from Willow’s suggestions. The process is different, but the goal is the same: to stop the pain by changing the way the mind interprets physical touch.
Massaging Mark’s left leg while he visualizes the agony in his right leg easing has broken the pain loop between his brain and nerves. If Willow’s right, then accepting affectionate touch and – God help me, creating sexual fantasies – should break my mental reflex that equates male touch to pain.
I’m still mulling this over when I finish.
“I feel guilty,” Mark comments. “You’re always massaging me, and I don’t reciprocate.”
I grin. “You’re more than welcome to.”
He scoots up in the bed. “What do you want? I’m no expert, but I’ll do my best.”
I answer without hesitation. “My hands. They ache when I schedule clients too close together without a break.” Today I did four fifty-minute massages in a row to ensure I could make it to Willow’s on time.
“I can handle that. Do you want me to use the oil?”
I nod and pass him the bottle. “A little goes a long way.” I put away the mirror and sit facing him, holding out my hand. I watch as he squirts oil in his palm, then begins to rub, starting with the thick pad at the base of my thumb. “Mmmm. That’s where I usually hurt most.”
“Tell me if you want something different. This is your area of expertise.”
“That feels incredible.” I relax into his firm touch.
He watches me while he works. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“You’ve been uncomfortable around men ever since what happened.”
I grin up at his serious expression. “That’s not a question. That’s a statement. Perhaps you need a grammar refresher.”
