Page 32 of Something Like That

For a moment, she thought he was going to refuse. She tensed up, getting ready to fight if she had to. Instead, he gave her a single, half nod. Her muscles relaxed, sending a cascade of relief through her. She patted the pillow next to her hip. He swung his leg up and rested his foot on it.

This wasn’t going to work. “You need to take your pants off.”

“What?” His voice had a husky, rough quality to it. It was so sexy.

And so not relevant right now. “You heard me.”

“No.”

She sighed. Who knew dealing with a moody, hormonal teenager would prove to be easier? “I don’t have x-ray vision and can’t see through your jeans. How am I supposed to monitor for swelling?” She was impressed by how even she kept her voice.

“I’ll just pull them up.” He leaned forward and yanked on his pant leg. His jeans were a looser fit, but they weren’t meant to be pulled up like that, and just barely made it over his muscular calf.

He made a frustrated noise that sounded a little like a growl. Very animalistic. Her insides practically melted, heat jumping from nerve ending to nerve ending until it felt like she might burst into flame. That band low in her belly tightened again, happy to be ushered back into the game, sending a sizzle of heat between her thighs.

“Nick, please.”

“Fine,” he said, his voice deep, his tone frustrated. The almost growl sent another spark of heat through her. He pushed himself to his feet and reached for the button on his jeans.

Her mouth dried like the Sahara in the middle of February. She knew she shouldn’t be watching, especially this intently, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away. He flicked the button open. She could feel his gaze on her, hot and heavy, but she refused to look up. Looking at his face would break the spell.

He slid the zipper down slowly, the clicking of the teeth loud in the silence. The front of his pants gaped open, revealing a pair of tight, black boxer briefs underneath. She hadn’t given much thought to men’s underwear, at least not since her divorce, but she found herself enthralled.

His gaze bored into her forehead, but for the life of her, she couldn’t look away. He gave his jeans a push and they slid down his legs to pool at his feet. He kicked them aside.

His legs were long and dusted with hair that was slightly darker than the ginger hair on his head. Strong and muscular. The tight briefs left little to the imagination. Very little.

He had nothing to worry about in that department.

Her fingers itched with the need to trace the contours of his muscular thighs—and possibly other things. She tucked them under her legs to stop from reaching for him.

She slid her gaze lower. There were small incision scars around his right knee, the remnants of his surgery. His knee looked like it was a little swollen when compared to the left one. Nothing major though, and it would probably be fine with a little ice and a bit of rest. She trailed her gaze lower. His calves were lean and muscular… and he was still wearing a pair of white sport socks.

Which didn’t kill her lust the way she thought it would. Interesting.

She slid her gaze back up the long length of him, finally meeting his gaze. He still had that impassive, blank look on his face, but his eyes gave him away. The heat in them scorched her, right to the marrow of her bones. He wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted her to think.

Good.

No, no that’s bad. She needed to focus. On her business and on Em. They were the only things that mattered. Getting involved with anyone was dumb. Getting involved with a client was dumber. Getting involved with Nick Sadler was the dumbest.

No matter how many times she tossed casual and no-strings and all of that around, she wasn’t sure she could actually do it. Letting herself do this, have this, was setting her up for disaster. She couldn’t go through what she’d gone through with Kevin again.

Not that whatever was between her and Nick would get that far. That was relationship territory, and she didn’t do relationships. Counting on anyone else for anything was the fastest way to get your heartbroken.

She just needed to keep reminding herself to keep things professional. Regardless of what her hormones wanted.

“Sit,” she said, happy with her no-nonsense tone of voice. Yay, me. She grabbed the gel pack and the towel.

He did as she asked and lifted his foot onto the pillow on the table without prompting. She wrapped the cold pack in the towel and placed it on his knee. Even through the cloth she knew it was cold, especially in contrast to the cozy living room.

He sucked in a quick breath. Goosebumps formed on his skin. She wanted to run her fingers over them, maybe to soothe them, maybe to see if she could get them to pop out in other places. No, bad Alex.

She looked up. He was staring at her—he seemed to do that a lot—and she suddenly felt very self-conscious.

“Fifteen minutes on, then fifteen minutes off.” So much for the no nonsense tone from a second ago. This time her voice came out breathless. She cleared her throat. “You want the tissue to come back up to temperature, to increase the blood flow and slowly reduce any inflammation.”

Why was she giving him a physiology lesson? Any second now, his eyes were going to glaze over as the nerdy girl talked about science. Except they didn’t. He was focused on her and her alone. Why, oh, why did she find that so hot?