Page 15 of Paths

As if willing herself to take the first step, she finally walks in, her boots clomping on the old hardwoods. When I swing the door shut behind her, she turns and asks, “Where should we go?”

I shrug with my good shoulder. “You’re the professional. You tell me.”

She looks around and sighs, dropping her bag on the floor. “I guess here is fine. Really, I need to measure your range of motion, check for swelling, and muscle tightness. That’ll give me an idea of where to start.”

“Measure away.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth again and I find myself jealous, wanting to bite her lip, too. When she closes the distance between us and stands in front of my bum shoulder, she hesitates, taking another deep breath.

When she doesn’t make a move to do anything, I break the silence. “You sure you’re really a physical therapist? You’re not here just to fuck with me since you don’t approve of my sugar consumption?”

“What?” She looks insulted. “Of course I am. I mean, yes, I’m really a physical therapist. This has nothing to do with your love for sugar.”

“Are you here to offer me the specials or are we going to get to it?”

“No, sorry.” She exhales harshly and raises her hands, flexing her fingers before touching me.

I tense, not knowing what to expect, but the instant she lays her small hands on my body, I have to force myself not to react.

Her touch is soft, warm, and fuck me, even soothing. She runs her hands lightly over my bare skin, and I’m grateful she moves behind me, because I have to close my eyes to overcome it. Now she’s touching both my shoulders, nothing but symmetry in her movements, gently probing my muscles.

Hell if I don’t feel her breath on the back of my neck when her soft voice comes at me. “Do you think all the swelling is gone? I don’t see much, if any.”

I try to even my voice when I answer, “Swelling’s been gone for over a week.”

“Good,” I hear and feel her say.

She moves to my bad shoulder, and as if she’s finally more comfortable touching me, her hand slowly moves down to my elbow, bending my forearm up. I open my eyes and study her face as she focuses on what she’s doing.

Her blue eyes are intent and methodical as I’m forced to stand here, doing nothing while she has her hands on me. As much as I will it not to, my heart speeds. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.

Just when I didn’t think I could handle anymore, she lightly brings her hands to my chest, running them over my pecs as she says, “It’s not uncommon for pectorals to become tight from poor posture when recovering from shoulder trauma. You’ve been compensating for your injury for weeks. That’s a long time. You could really benefit from electrical neuromuscular stimulation, but I don’t have access to a machine. You should get into a clinic where they have everything you need. It can help loosen muscles to speed up recovery.”

With her so close in front of me, I can’t manage a word, so I nod, even though I’m still not going to a doctor. Now that Maya’s touched me, I’m gonna want more, and it’s gonna be all I can do to fight the urge to return her touch.

Moving back to my shoulder, she gently lifts my arm forward until I can feel the pain and tense. Stopping, she does this again to the side, and then to the back. Each time, sensing when it’s too much and stops.

She continues to torture me, not only with her stretches, but her touch. All the while, I have to stand here and act like it doesn’t affect me. She talks me through some exercises, doing multiple reps of each. Sometimes I answer her questions, sometimes all I can do is grunt, because as much as I love her touch, the stretches hurt like a bitch.

When she finally lays my arm at my side, she brings her hands back to my shoulder. She must be trying to slay me, because fuck me, she starts to press and rub my muscles, massaging the tension she just created. It might be releasing the tension in my shoulder, but it’s creating all kinds of tension in my cock.

She’s killing me.

“You’ll want to ice this. You can alternate ice and heat, but be sure to keep up with the ice since we moved it quite a bit. Do you still have the directions I left last night?” She looks up questioningly, having no idea what she’s stirred inside me.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Repeat everything we just did tomorrow, and keep up with the ice. I’ll come back the day after to check your range. You’ll probably be ready for some new motions, I’ll bring my rubber bands, you’ll need to start small, but it’s time to add some strengthening motions.” With that, she drops her hands as she takes a step backwards, and on an exhale, asks, “Do you hate me?”

I feel myself slightly frown. “Why would I hate you, Maya?”

She gives her head a little shake and flips her hand out between us. “That couldn’t have felt good. Physical therapists aren’t normally popular with their patients.”

I feel myself relax, but what I can’t explain is her touch is one of the best things I’ve felt in my life. Since I can’t tell her that, I offer, “If you bring dessert next time, there’s no way I could hate you.”

As if I’ve broken the ice, she finally relaxes and rolls her beautiful blue eyes. Shaking her head, she bends to pick up her bag, and turns to the door. “You eat enough dessert—I’ll take my chances with you hating me.”

“Your gamble,” I call, checking her out from the back, now even sorrier I can’t return her touch.

---