Page 199 of Pucking Strong

“I know.”

“I’m gonna talk to Brady. We need to finesse your cooldown routine. There’s stretching we can modify, heat therapy, and you need to swim more.”

“Swim?”

“Mhmm. It’s great recovery for you. Hockey is so high impact. I know you love to run, but you need your therapies to do less damage, not more.”

His comment about my love of running makes me smile. But I can’t fight the relieved groan that escapes me as he starts to really dig into the knots on my lower trapezius muscle.

“I don’t know if Novy told you, but I have a strict ‘no sex noises’ policy on my massage table,” he teases, still digging in deep with his thumbs.

“That sound was involuntary,” I grunt.

His pressure lightens as he works a knot loose, each movement so measured and controlled. “Hmm, well, just don’t do it again. Second warning.”

I stiffen. “Second warning? What was the first?”

“Seriously? You boasting that I’d be begging to suck your cock within the first fifteen minutes of this massage. Now, lie there like a good little hockey player, and let me do my work.”

With a heavy huff, I exhale, relaxing back onto the table.

“Karro starts aqua aerobics for her leg in a couple weeks,” he says after a few minutes. “We could both go with her and get in some laps at the pool.”

I smile. “You know if we both go, she’ll demand we get pizza after.”

I’ve been traveling so much lately. Karolina has determined that any time all three of us are able to make it to her PT together, it’s a party that must be celebrated with pizza and chocolate milk.

“I’ll concede to the pizza if you promise to take better care of yourself,” he replies.

I reach for him. I can’t help myself. Dropping my arms from the table, I brush my hands up the back of his thighs.

Now it’s his turn to groan as he tenses, but he doesn’t step away. “You know, I’m really trying to be professional here. I want to make this good for you, baby. I want to help you.”

“You do help me. You’re so good to me.”

He swats my hands away, moving to the side of the table to work on my middle back. “Okay, so then let mereallyhelp you. I could start massaging you more at home. I hate to feel like you’re not getting what you need just because we’re married. I’m more qualified than Cassidy, and I have gentler hands than Brady or Jeff—hey—”

I push off the table up to my elbows, grabbing him by the wrist before he can step away. “Youdohelp me.”

He looks down at me, shaking his head. As I watch, tears spring to his eyes. Then his shoulders sag.

“Hey … what is this now?”

“I just feel so helpless,” he admits. “There’s nothing else I can do. How can there really be nothing else?”

We’re not talking about massages now. “I know,” I say. “I feel the same.”

Sighing, he takes his free hand and cups my cheek. “Oh, Hen, you’ve done everything you can.”

“As have you,” I assure him. “All we can do now is wait.” Turning my face into his hand, I kiss his palm, breathing him in. His skin smells faintly of warm honey from the massage oil. “What do you need from me?”

“What?”

I hold his gaze. “We can’t keep running, mitt hjärta. Not from this. We have to stay, and we have to wait. So let me distract you. Take what you need from me.”

He lets out a shaky breath, his gaze darting around the room as he tries not to look at the long lines of my all-but-naked body lying on this massage table. Why is he holding himself back from me?

Fighting a smile, I raise a brow. “You’re allowed to look at me, mitt hjärta. You’re allowed to enjoy what you see.”

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