Beyond The Music (The Rock Gods Book 7) (8 page)

Lincoln reclined on the couch. He watched Aaron shift the coffee table out of his way a bit, then Aaron’s hands were on his legs. One by one, he lifted each leg and rotated it around inside the hip joints, creating large circle patterns. The whole time Aaron watched Lincoln’s face for a reaction. The way he studied Lincoln was unnerving.

“How’s that feel?” Aaron asked. “Any pain?”

“It’s fine,” Lincoln answered, although it was difficult to concentrate on feeling anything when Aaron was practically hugging his thigh and his hands were all too close to his junk.

“That’s good,” Aaron replied. His hand cupped Lincoln’s elbow and gently began to tug him upright again. “Can you stand up for me?” Lincoln fought the urge to yank his arm out of Aaron’s clutches because the feeling of being hoisted up by Aaron made him feel like a fucking child.

“What’s your age?” Aaron asked Lincoln.

“Thirty-two.” Lincoln felt Aaron step behind him—close, too fucking close. Lincoln could feel his heat, then Aaron’s fingers grazed down the length of his spine from his neck to his lower lumbar. The touch made him shiver. Lincoln bit his bottom lip when Aaron lifted both his arms above his head.

“Any health issues?” Aaron asked. He gripped the knot of muscle at Lincoln’s shoulder before his other hand grabbed Lincoln’s wrist and began a series of lifts and circles with the arm.

“Health issues?” Lincoln tried to laugh but it fell flat. “I think my health issues are the whole reason you’re standing in my living room.”

“Besides the MS,” Aaron said, and repeated the exercise with Lincoln’s opposite arm.

“No, I’m good,” Lincoln replied.

“Besides the dope, do you smoke cigarettes?” Aaron questioned.

“I used to years ago, but not anymore,” Lincoln replied. “Just the joints.”

“Bend forward slowly at the waist,” Aaron instructed.

Lincoln started to move and then stopped. “Why?”

“I want to watch your spine and see how straight it is when stretched,” Aaron answered.

Aaron’s hands were on him, moving in tandem over his shoulder blades to the center of his back. With every little bit more Lincoln bent forward, Aaron’s fingers worked themselves lower toward his hips and ass. Lincoln’s heart began to thud louder in his chest and a sprinkle of sweat started to bead on his forehead.

“Do you have any weakness in your arms or legs?” Aaron asked.

Lincoln visibly bristled from the question. “I’m not answering that.”

“Can I ask why?” Aaron asked. He helped Lincoln stand up to his full height again.

“You’ll tell Dagger or our manager,” Lincoln grumbled. “They don’t need to know the extent of what I’m dealing with.”

Aaron stepped around to face Lincoln. They were almost eye-to-eye and the close proximity allowed Lincoln to smell Aaron’s cologne. Lincoln did his best to maintain eye contact but he couldn’t. Aaron’s gaze was powerful. Penetrating. Lincoln swallowed hard. He wanted to push Aaron back a bit. He needed more space; he suddenly felt the need for air.

“Whatever you tell me during our sessions stays between us,” Aaron stated firmly. “When I used the word confidentially earlier, I meant it. No joke. Okay? I can’t adequately help you if I don’t know all the issues or the areas of your body affected by the disease. So, do you have any weakness or numbness in your arms and legs?”

Lincoln nodded. “I have trouble feeling my hands sometimes and my feet,” he finally answered. “My left side in general feels weak.”

“I saw you stumble outside,” Aaron commented. “Is balance a regular issue for you?” Lincoln hesitated again and Aaron repeated, “Please, Lincoln. Trust me. I can’t help you unless you give me all the information.”

Several seconds passed before Lincoln finally responded in a soft voice, “I’ve been falling a lot.”

“Have you been injured during any of these falls?”

Lincoln nodded. “I hit my head in the shower yesterday, but I’m okay.” Christ, the fact he was answering Aaron’s questions so honestly was making him nauseous and leaving him feeling raw and exposed.

“How about swallowing?” Aaron asked. “Are you prone to choking?”

“No, that hasn’t been a problem,” Lincoln replied.

“What about loss of sensation during sex, or bladder and bowel issues?” Aaron pushed.

Lincoln pulled away from Aaron and sat down on the couch again. “What the hell are you implying with that fucking question?” Lincoln barked.

“The nerve damage that comes along with MS can affect the bladder, bowels, and even cause sexual problems, too,” Aaron explained. “I know those aren’t necessarily fun topics to discuss, but the conversation is completely relevant because those problems are quite common.”

Lincoln rubbed at his face. “I’ve known you for what . . . five fucking minutes?” he mumbled. “I’m not talking about that shit with you.”

Aaron seemed to be ignoring the anger in Lincoln’s tone because he went about setting up what looked like some sort of table. Once Aaron had it settled where he wanted it to be he faced Lincoln. “Can you walk over here and get on the table for me?”

“Is that a trick question?” Lincoln ground out. Lincoln stood up from the couch and stepped over to where Aaron was. “Is that a massage table?”

“It is,” Aaron answered. “Your range of motion seems good, so I want to check your level of sensation in your extremities. Are you okay with getting up on my table?”

Lincoln stood beside the waist high bench of sorts and set his hands on his hips. “You expect me to climb up on top of that?”

“I can help you,” Aaron suggested and reached for Lincoln, but Lincoln pulled away.

“No thanks. I’ll handle it,” Lincoln’s voice sounded almost like a sneer and Aaron held up his hands in defeat. Lincoln inched closer to the table and lifted his thigh up to the edge of the table, then slid his ass onto the padded top. After adding his other thigh and making a few adjustments to his position, Lincoln was safely on the table. “Easy enough,” Lincoln remarked.

Aaron grinned but the expression seemed somewhat pinched in annoyance. Lincoln knew he was the likely source of that emotion and he almost felt bad. Almost. At its core, having an in-home nurse was demeaning. And if he had to deal with these
sessions
every fucking day, Lincoln wasn’t sure he could do it and be nice about it. If Lincoln continued to piss off Aaron with his failure to do what was asked of him, it could cause Aaron to quit. After all, Lincoln doubted Aaron needed him as a patient—or his bullshit—to survive.

“What now?” Lincoln prompted.

“Lie down on your back, please,” Aaron directed and moved to the side of the table.

Once Lincoln was comfortable, Aaron stepped to the end of the table with Lincoln’s feet. “I’m going to remove your boots, if that’s okay,” Aaron said.

“I suppose so,” Lincoln said. He found a spot on his ceiling to stare at while Aaron unlaced his boots, eased them off his feet, and set the boots on the floor beneath the table. Aaron moved again and Lincoln watched him step back to his medical bag. He returned to the table carrying a few different things. One item looked sharp and another appeared to be a tuning fork. Lincoln recognized that from his many years in the music business. “What the hell are you going to do with that?” Lincoln asked pointing to the tuning fork.

“I’m going to test your sensory perception with it,” Aaron said. Then he hit the fork on the wooden leg of the table and pressed it to Lincoln’s big toe. “Tell me when you can no longer feel the vibration.”

The seconds ticked off and the silence between them was awkward for Lincoln. He tried to concentrate on the vibration from the tuning fork resonating through his toe and foot, but all he could think about was Aaron. Every last detail about the man was intriguing to Lincoln, from the thick mop of hair on his gorgeous head, down to his long, lean legs. The idea of this . . . attraction was fucked up on its own because of the reason Aaron was standing beside him. This wasn’t a date or a meeting from a mutual fascination with each other. This was business and Lincoln needed to remind himself of that.

Lincoln found Aaron’s gaze above him. He nodded to let Aaron know the vibration had stopped in his toe and Aaron continued the test on another part of his body. Their eyes held and Aaron actually licked his lips. It was probably an involuntary movement on Aaron’s part, but damn he looked good doing it. Lincoln’s heart tripped up over that and for a brief moment, Lincoln’s mind wandered to a place he hadn’t allowed himself to go since his life had taken a nosedive. There was no way in hell he would open himself to the humiliation of that again. Ever.

Chapter Seven

Aaron worked with Lincoln throughout the afternoon and finished with some light exercises in Lincoln’s basement gym before they quit for the day. Aaron prepared some kind of spinach and egg dish that Lincoln found himself moaning aloud with approval.

“Tomorrow your meals will start being delivered,” Aaron said as he spooned another piece of the egg creation onto Lincoln’s plate.

Lincoln set his fork down and looked at Aaron sitting at the kitchen table with him, appearing to be all domesticated and . . . fucking delicious. “So, what’s the deal here?” Lincoln asked.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked and slipped another forkful of food into his mouth.

“You’re still at my house,” Lincoln bluntly pointed out. “I’m wondering what happens now. Do you stick around to tuck me into bed and maybe read me a bedtime story before you finally leave? Then do you come back tomorrow, or is this an every other day thing where you work with me? I guess I’m wondering what the fucking schedule is with this . . . nurse gig you have going on with me.”

“Typically when I take on a client with the medical needs you have, I move in and work one-on-one with them,” Aaron explained.

“You really think I’m that fucking needy?” Lincoln asked.

“Well, needy in the sense that you have a deadline where you need to be stronger by a certain date,” Aaron replied. “Spumoni mentioned you needed to be ready for a tour in a few weeks. Is that correct?”

“Yeah, that’s right, but I’m not sure I see the need for you to live with me,” Lincoln countered. “That’s all I’m saying. You being here twenty-four-seven makes things feel . . . weird.”

Aaron seemed to be absorbing Lincoln’s words carefully before he spoke again. “You mentioned you fell in the shower yesterday, right?”

“So fucking what?” Lincoln argued. “I’ve fallen on my ass in every room in this house, including the patio out by the pool. Why does it matter that I fell in the shower?” Aaron smiled as if he had insider information or something and it pissed off Lincoln even more.

“The fact you’ve admitted to falling that much around the house concerns me,” Aaron stated. “You really need someone to stay with you, at least until you get stronger.”

“Is that what
you
think?” Lincoln was clearly angry and he didn’t care if Aaron felt his wrath. “Look, I did all you asked of me today, but I see no reason for you to hang-out here with me tonight. Unless you plan on watching me while I sleep, or maybe you’ll be joining me in bed? Is that where you get your kicks? Or maybe you’re planning to shower with me, you know, to hold me
upright,
so I don’t fall again? If that’s the case, I hope you’re also planning on jerking me off, too, because I love to start my day with a nice hot shower and a fresh load sprayed against the tiles of the shower wall.”

That last part was a bald-faced lie, but Lincoln threw it in strictly for shock value. And Aaron seemed to be needing a healthy dose of some shock and awe right now in order to leave him the fuck alone like he wanted. Getting him stronger for the tour was one thing. Babysitting him was another.

“If you’re attempting to scare me, you’ll have to try harder,” Aaron said. “Your bathroom habits don’t stun or offend me in the least. I mean, what guy doesn’t like to start his day as you described?”

Is this fucking guy mocking me right now?
Lincoln stood up from his chair quickly and damn near fell onto his ass . . . again. He managed to grip the edge of the table this time before he crashed and burned, but the look of disapproval on Aaron’s face was almost worse than the pain involved had his head hit the floor. So much for his dramatic exit!

“Tomorrow your shower is scheduled to have the safety bars mounted to the walls,” Aaron’s tone was flat. “Then, you can jerk your dick all day long in there and not have to worry about splitting your head open from a fall.”

Lincoln’s grin was mischievous. He snorted first, then full-on started laughing. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” Lincoln teased.

“I’ve been called worse,” Aaron replied. “And something tells me you’ll be calling me a lot worse before you’re released from my care.”

“What the hell do you mean by, ‘released from your care’?” Lincoln interjected. “Are you saying you’re the one who decides if I’m ready to be set free to wreak havoc on society?”

“Something like that,” Aaron said then stood up from the table and carried their dishes over to the sink. “What would you normally be doing at this time of the night?”

“It’s not even eight o’clock.” Lincoln gave Aaron another one of his famous eye-rolls, then his gaze dropped to Aaron’s tight ass as he stood in front of the sink. “You make it sound like it’s time for bed, for fuck’s sake. Do you want to tuck me in already?”