Page 31 of Bad Decisions

But the moment her fingers touch my leg, every muscle in my body tenses, and she jerks her hand back. “Did that hurt?” she asks, her brow furrowed. “You said the pain was bearable.”

“It’s fine.” I parrot her earlier words with about as much truth behind them. “I just thought it might hurt. Sorry, I’m more prepared for you this time.”

Fuck, I’m acting like a baby who can’t handle pain, when the reality is I’ve had far worse injuries than this in the past and barely flinched at the physio in the aftermath. It’s her touch—her hands on my body—that I can’t handle. Not when they aren’t being used as a caress. This was a bad idea. I should have just called her and asked to meet like a regular person instead of using this appointment as a surprise tactic.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I grind out as I force my body to relax.

“You don’t seem ready.”

“Please, Jewel, just put your damn hands on me,” I grumble, and her eyebrows shoot high. “Sorry. I’m impatient for the treatment to begin and be able to get rid of the crutch.”

Her eyes narrow, clearly not believing my weak excuse. But thankfully, that doesn’t stop her from trying again, and this time I don’t flinch. Well, not visibly anyway.

She proceeds with a soft tissue massage around the area while I close my eyes and recite mathematical equations in my head. Anything to distract me from the thought of her hand accidentally brushing over the towel that is barely concealing my semihard cock beneath it.

“Okay, so the muscles are very tight here,” she says, her fingers finding the area just above my knee. “I can loosen that up, and while it might initially be sore, it should reduce the pain overall.”

I nod, and seconds later her thumbs dig deep into the tense muscle above my knee joint. The sharp burn is like a swarm of fire ants attacking, and I know that sensation too well from our disastrous mission in Guatemala. My jaw clenches shut, holding back the expletives sitting on the tip of my tongue. Jewel might as well be pressing down on the wound; it hurts so bad. I focus my attention on her beautiful face, reacquainting myself with every delicate feature, the wrinkle of concentration between her brows and the curve of her lips that I know from experience can be equally sweet and wicked. It’s enough of a distraction until she finally finishes.

Not lifting her gaze higher than my knee, she says, “Ice your thigh several times a day until your next visit in three days. I’d like to reduce the swelling around the wound before doing anything too invasive.”

“So you’re willing to see me again?” I ask, genuinely surprised.

“You’re a patient needing treatment,” she says with a shrug before quickly turning and stepping away to wipe her hands on a paper towel. “You can get dressed again. And maybe next time we could try dry needling. It’s a good pain relief option and will also help reduce inflammation.”

The cool, professional attitude is like a punch to the gut. Obviously, walking away from Jewel was a wrong move, but one I really thought I could fix. Now I’m not sure she’ll let me.

Chapter seventeen

Jewel

Damn the man and all of his irresistible hotness.

Keeping my back to Will while he dresses is the only way to keep my emotions to myself.

“Jewel, you don’t have to treat me if you don’t feel comfortable.”

I spin around and watch as he swings his legs off the table. He winces.

“Let’s see how it goes.” Despite my refusal to discuss what happened with us, I’m not ready to give up treating him. Especially when I know I can ease the pain that’s clearly visible in the creases around his mouth.

Will remains sitting on the edge of the table to catch his breath before attempting to put any weight on the leg.

“Careful, it will be a little wobbly,” I say before walking over to collect his jeans from the back of a chair that’s just out of his reach. “Do you need some help with these?”

“Please. I’m worse than a toddler at putting them on.”

“You should wear sweatpants, which are much easier to manage and won’t rub against the injury.” I squat in front of him, focusing on his feet as I hold out each leg of the jeans for him to step into, first with the good leg, then the bad one. As I roll them slowly up his legs, I try not to remember the last time I kneeled before him like this, but with a lot less clothing.

I reach the top of his thighs, and his cock is a prominent bulge in his briefs, the tip just visible above the waistband. “Will?” I gasp, a bolt of desire pulsing in my core.

“Sorry,” he says, but the grin spreading his mouth wide shows he doesn’t mean it. Maybe I’m not the only one remembering those moments in the shower.

Jumping up to stand, I remove my face from temptation, then take two big steps backward. “You can deal with that yourself.”

“Something I’ve become very used to doing.”