Chapter 18 - Theo
Theo
The rehab area hugged one side of the gym, separated by frosted glass walls that only gave a fraction of privacy to whoever was in there.
Today it was me. I caught the strain on my expression in the mirrors that ran along one side, muscle in my jaw twitching as I tried to control my movements.
Hard as it was, harder still with Reese watching me like a hawk.
“Shouldn’t I be lifting weights?” I grunted through another internal rotation of the resistance band.
“You can barely lift your stick.” More bands hung on hooks, and she made her way over there now. “That one’s too much. Try this.”
She tossed a lighter band at me, and I let it fall to the floor without even trying to catch it. “I’m fine with this one.”
To prove my point, I pushed into another rotation, blowing a hard breath between clenched teeth. But I could’ve popped all the veins in my head and still come up short.
Reese fixed me with a smug look. “Ready to try the lighter band now?”
“I can do it.”
She sighed, her hands moving over my shoulder and elbow before I could jerk the band off balance, pressing into the tense muscle at the edge of my deltoid. “It’s day one, so I’ll go easy on you. But you can’t fight me on everything if you want this to work.”
“I still think the weights would be better.” I got through another shaky rotation. “It’ll work faster.”
She shifted my arm slightly, correcting the angle I couldn’t hold on my own. “Which is why you’re the dumb jock, and I’m the charismatic, skilled, super smart physio.”
“Charismatic, huh?” I blew out a pained laugh. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
“Come on,” she said, “you’ve got more than that in you.”
I tried again, but my shoulder flagged halfway through the motion. My arm trembled, but she didn’t let me quit. Her hands adjusted my elbow and upper arm, and even though it was all clinical, I couldn’t stop noticing how they pressed just enough to make my shoulder move the way it should.
Two more was all I could manage before letting the band snap back. “I— can’t—”
“Can,” she corrected, thumb against a tight knot along my shoulder blade. Her hands stayed there while I forced another inch, then another, my body arguing with me the whole time.
Every adjustment from her hands reminded me how much I’d lost these past few months, and how much I had to earn back. Which made me the dumb jock who thought I could make it for the tail end of Round 3.
“You just have to be patient with yourself,” she murmured, as if reading my mind.
If I had breath in my lungs I would’ve laughed. Patience wasn’t gonna get me back on the ice.
“We have three weeks,” I said through clenched teeth, pulling the band back with her help. “I don’t have time to waste on being patient.”
“Why not? You seem to find a considerable chunk in your day to waste on being a stubborn idiot…” she deadpanned, catching my eye in our reflection. “Might as well swap that out for doing something useful.”
“Your bedside manner astounds me.”
Her fingers gave an involuntary twitch on my shoulder, that one eyebrow quirking. “What do you know about what I’m like next to a bed, or in it, for that matter?”
My mind derailed from the spasm in my arm, and rushed to the place where that look landed. A whole other kind of heat. Not my finest moment in terms of restraint and control.
She didn’t look surprised in the slightest. More amused, than anything. “I had no idea you liked rehab this much.”
“Go ahead, Hopper. Make fun of the invalid in his most vulnerable state.”
Our eyes met and the moment stilled, tension rippling between us. The faint exhale of her breath on my sweaty chest lit a spark that lingered on the border of deciding to stay put or bending down to kiss her.
Reese made the decision for me and cleared her throat, backing up. “Let’s get back to your core.”
I released the band with a snap, which sent it shooting across the room. “I’ve had enough for today.”
“You don’t get to say when it’s enough,” she said, rolling the hot pink exercise ball to the middle of the room. “You were the one who demanded three weeks instead of the eight I had planned, so quit whining and get on the damn ball.”
“Is it wrong that I’m even more turned on right now?” I flashed her a wink as I assumed the obligatory ‘Superman’ stance on the ball.
“Relax your shoulders. Arms close to your ears. Body weight on your feet. That’s it.”
Her hand was on my lower back, the other gently supporting my right arm as she guided me through a careful set of raises. Each pressure point was like a bonfire on my skin, licking at the low pulse of arousal in my pants.
“Your restraint is impressive.”
She brushed a runaway drop of sweat from my temple, and leaned down. Her breath was warm against my ear, voice low and sensual when she said, “Core tight. Head down.”
My posture broke with the laugh that shook through me. “I deserved that.”
“Yeah, you did.” She gave a light chuckle. “But keep this up, and I may be willing to let my restraint slip a little when you’re finished.”
The heated gleam in her eyes shot through me, and I launched into manic lifts and dips in double-time that sent me rolling all the way off the ball. Reese laughed so hard, she collapsed on the floor next to me.
“How’d I do?” I panted.
She looked at me, the flush from her neck rising into her cheeks. “Okay, you win. We’ll call it a day.”
I leaned in, my hand coming up to grip the back of her neck. But she pulled away for every inch I closed until I finally gave up the chase.
“Cool down first,” she said, her tone taking on that strict school teacher edge. I groaned, but she was already on her feet and patting the exam table. “Up you get, Bouchard. And don’t make me say it again.”
“This is diabolical,” I grumbled, but expressly did as I was told. She’d made it clear the only way to get what I wanted was to give her exactly what she wanted.
Although, as I settled onto my stomach on the table, I couldn’t help thinking she was enjoying the tease. Why else had she opted for a pair of ridiculously suggestive tights today, over her usual Surge sweats?
“And that tank top is just unnecessary.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I mumbled, and flipped my head face-down.
I exhaled against the table, forehead pressed into the padding as Reese moved around without a word.
The clink of a tube cap hitting the tray, followed by the cooling gel’s sharp menthol scent.
She rubbed it between her palms to fend off the worst of the chill, and her fingers landed on my shoulders with instant pressure.
She worked along the length of my back, thumbs pressing into the spots that screamed the loudest. I tried to focus on the slow relief of knots loosening under her hands, but my mind kept straying to the heat of her touch, the friction of her insistent palms against my skin.
Familiar, like every line and dip was already programmed into the memory of her hands.
A dull thud reverberated from above where the rest of the guys were practicing, a puck against the boards, followed by a muffled whistle. I tensed, shoulders jerking, and Reese immediately leaned into the movement, her hands steadying me.
“Don’t think about it,” she said. “You’ll be back up there in a few weeks.”
I appreciated the sentiment, but it did little to soothe the frustration simmering in my chest. I should’ve been in that practice, starting the first game of Round 3 with my team.
The churning in my head stalled when her hands drifted lower, sliding from the curve of my lower back down to the top of my thighs. I stiffened. In more ways than one.
Because the good doctor didn’t stop there.
Her hands moved higher, under my shorts, tracing the line where my glutes met my legs.
I clenched against the table instinctively, the tension in my body reacting before my brain could catch up.
The warmth of her palms and the slick chill of the gel made every nerve along my spine fire in sharp, contradictory bursts.
Relief wrapped in a pulse of something sharper, more dangerous.
I swallowed hard, trying to stay focused on the rehab, on the fact that I was supposed to be recovering, but my body was sending its own stubborn memo.
The weight of her hands, the subtle slide of her fingers, made it impossible not to notice the way my hips shifted against the table, how even breathing became an exercise in control.
Every adjustment she made along my thighs reverberated up into my crotch, and I could feel the aching throb of my growing hard-on press into the padding beneath me.
“What do we have here?” I mumbled.
She scoffed, not missing a beat. “Your whole body makes up for the weakness in your shoulder. You have tension everywhere.”
“You have no idea.” I rolled over onto my back, the full reach of her actions on display for her to see.
Reese’s eyes widened a fraction, and her tongue came out to wet her lips. Which was all I could take.
I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into me with such force, I didn’t have to do much to get her mouth on mine. Right where I wanted it.