Physical Touch (8 page)

Relief flooded through her like a dam that had just broken wide. He didn’t have a live-in lover! Or offspring. Just the dog. She sighed, overcome with a happy satisfaction that he was single. Not that his relationship status meant anything to her. She wasn’t planning on kissing him again. For real. She smiled, glad to know the kiss they shared didn’t make her a home wrecker or a Jezebel.

Mitch glanced up to see a wide grin emerge over her face. “What did I say that has you so amused, IQ?”

Feeling the heat rush to her face, she quickly recovered by taking a sip of water and averted her eyes from his, which were at this moment boring a hole in hers. 

“N -
nothing. I was just thinking about that big dog of yours as a puppy. She must have been a handful. I never had a dog growing up. My dad didn’t have the time and my brother and I certainly weren’t able to take care of one.” Stopping herself before she could say more, she noticed how Mitch was looking at her and realized to her embarrassment she had probably shared more than she should have. Damn her socially inept self. 

Mitch had by now sat down on one of the kitchen bar stools and was watching Rylie intently. “Please, go on. I’d like to hear more about that.” he encouraged, his finger fiddling with the handle of the coffee cup. His lips turned up into a bright smile, showing his incredibly white teeth and a small dimple appeared in his chin. She was curious what the little cleft indentation felt like, catching herself before she reached over and placed her finger in his dimpled chin. 

“My childhood was pretty boring,” she mumbled uncomfortably, pushing her hair behind her ear. Talking about herself or her past was not something she cared to do.  Secrets had a tendency to reveal themselves when that happened and that was not something she wanted to divulge. “How about we move on and get working on that knee.” 

Before he could protest, Rylie opened up her pink nylon gym bag and pulled out several elastic bands, weighted balls and leg weights. “Where would you like to get down to business?” 

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she already anticipated his likely response. His eyes flicked up and a lopsided grin overtook his face. 

“Well, IQ, given that we’re in the privacy of my own home, we can get down to business anywhere you’d like,” he laughed, his grin beaming wider. “But seeing as you and I may have different versions of what that business entails, I suppose we could head downstairs to my home gym.”

Rylie was glad she had some time to compose herself as she followed Mitch down a hallway and then down a flight of stairs into his finished basement.  She was mad at herself for getting so easily ruffled by his comments. She had grown up with a brother and his friends, for God’s sakes. It wasn’t unusual for her to hear crass or sexual innuendos coming from dirty-minded men. In fact, she normally joined right in without any qualms with a few “
That’s what she said
” retorts. But it made her jumpy and itchy coming from Mitch. She snarled at her own stupidity.

At the bottom of the stairway, she turned to see once again, the entire back wall of the basement was floor-to-ceiling glass windows, leading out to the patio and pool area. 

Stopping in the center of the room, Rylie surveyed the large workout area, complete with all the standard gym equipment – treadmill, elliptical, rowing machine, a full rack of free weights, Physio balls in various colors and sizes, a hanging boxing bag and several mats. A door was open that led into what looked like a shower facility.

Catching
the direction of her interest, Mitch explained. “There’s also a massage table in the room to the right, a steam room and an infrared sauna room.”

She gulped and raised her eyes incredulously at him. “Impressive. Where’s Inga, your Swedish massage girl? She off
today?” Although she was kidding, there was a distinct possibility he did have his own personal masseuse.

He laughed. “Yep – I told her to take the day off. One beautiful woman fawning over my body today is all my ego could handle.”

She blushed as Mitch stared intently at her. “Do you really have your own personal masseuse? Never mind, don’t answer that,” she said with a hint of disgust when she saw his expression. “I don’t even want to know.”

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Pfft. I’m not here to win a contest over who provides the better service. It’s all about your recovery.”

“
Mmm-hmm. So you say…” Mitch moved toward Rylie, his hand brushing lightly down the side of her bare arm. His touch nearly brought her to her knees. His head bent, leaning down with his lips hovering near her ear. His breath was warm and had a hint of coffee and mint toothpaste. “But if there were an Inga, you’d win hands down.”

Caught off guard by his blatantly bold compliment, she pulled back from his touch, trying to busy herself with getting acquainted with the equipment. 

“I see you have a pool. Have you been using it since your surgery?” Rylie asked, as Mitch shook his head in response. “Swimming and water therapy are great ways to get exercise and to strengthen the muscles in the knee. It’s no impact on your joints and is quite soothing. At your session on Monday, if the weather is nice, I can show you some great underwater exercises.”

Mitch looked like he was about to say something else, but instead just replied with a “sounds good.”

Over the next forty-five minutes, Rylie had Mitch on the floor doing a series of range and motion leg exercises, some weight bearing and others not.

“This is to keep the blood circulating properly and to restore muscle mobility,” she had explained as she instructed Mitch through each exercise. She then had him using an elastic band, which he wrapped around the ball of his foot, to pull his knee up slowly toward his face, to increase his range and motion.

All throughout the exercise regimen, Rylie continued to provide educational insight to Mitch as to the purpose of each exercise, helping him learn the proper procedures and precautions so that he didn’t further injure his knee. She also instructed him on the daily exercises he was required to complete in between their three weekly appointments. 

Once over the initial reminder of the kiss they shared and the briefest of touch’s earlier, Rylie felt comfortable in their conversation, which seemed to flow easily between them. She’d been curious as to how Mitch injured his knee, so he shared the story of his ski accident and his love for adventure and sporting activities.

As he was in the midst of a rep of leg lifts, he asked Rylie what prompted her to become a therapist. She used her stock answer, avoiding the true depth and meaning behind her career and profession.

“I wanted to help people recover from traumatic experiences and injuries. I found it helped me when I recovered from my…accident, and I appreciated the process of therapy.” 

Eying her speculatively, he looked for her to continue. When she didn’t, he asked. “Accident, huh? What happened?”

“Uh…I fell.” Quickly looking away, her eyes left his face and landed on a spot on the floor.

“I see – so you’re a klutz,” he chuckled, getting a small smile from her. “I better keep all sharp objects out of your way, then.” He joked, but didn’t pursue it further.

Feeling uncomfortable with the topic and where the conversation had headed, Rylie had him finish the exercise before deciding that a break was in order. Knowing that she had worked him hard and pushed him to his limit for the day, which she could see written all over his face, she decided to do some isometrics and massage work. 

Holding out her hands to help pull him up to a standing position, she motioned him into the massage room. “Let’s put that massage table to some good use.” His face lit up with her recommendation.

“It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“How could you possibly know what I’m thinking?” He teased. “Get your mind out of the gutter, young lady.” Making a tsking sound, Mitch wagged his finger at her.  “But I was hoping you’d get me on the table - sooner rather than later.”

“Ugh. You better be careful, otherwise I might just recommend that icy cold bath again. That’s what I do to all my bad patients.” She snickered, seeing his face tense up into a worried plea. 

“Okay. Okay. I’ll try to be good. But I can’t promise for how long.” He raised his hands in surrender and winked. 

Rylie assisted Mitch up on the massage table and had him lie down on his back. Rolling up a small towel she found under the table, she placed it under his knee. 

“I’m going to be doing some light massage work around the tissue, to keep the muscle warm and pliable. Let me know if any of it hurts or it’s uncomfortable.”

Reaching out with both hands, Rylie placed her hands on his quad muscle, just above his knee and the incision site, and began to knead it gently. His breath caught and he jerked slightly, then settled his head back down against the pillow. She had him start out just doing modified leg raises and then used some massage techniques in between reps.

Rylie had done this hundreds of times with a variety of patients, young and old, male and female. It was routine – an ordinary hands-on therapy technique. But it had never felt like this. His quadriceps muscles were firm and large, her hands looking small and dwarfed against them. Rylie’s fingers moved in a circular motion around the kneecap, plunging into the tissue and muscle. Her fingers were on fire from the heat projecting from his skin, an electric current shooting through her nerve endings. She bit down on her lip, which began to quiver, just as the rest of her body similarly responded. She had to look at the wall to keep her eyes off of his gorgeous body and the hard shape of his erection against his shorts. She tried to think of something - anything other than how he felt under her fingers.

His voice was deep and gravely, as he looked down the length of his body and up to her eyes, meeting her stare.

“I think I might need that ice bath, after all,” he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling himself up onto his elbows.

“Rylie…” His voice shook in uncertainty and was laced with a vulnerable plea. She stopped the movement of her hands but stayed where they were. Their eyes locked.

“This is…you are…God – you are driving me crazy.”

He let out a breath and at the same time let go of her wrist. His legs swung around the edge of the table and she staggered back and out of the way to make room for him.  He paused there momentarily in thought before reaching out to grab her arms and pull her in between his opened legs, until she was just inches from his mouth.

His eyes roamed her lips, as she licked them and they parted in anticipation. “I can’t be good any longer. Tell me to stop right this second and I will. Otherwise...I’m going to kiss you.”

He was giving her an out and she knew it. She saw it in his eyes, the desire and the need. The same way she felt. Her body was an incendiary device, ready to detonate at any moment. She understood that there were lines that she couldn’t cross – her personal life could not bleed over into her professional. She took an oath when she became a therapist that her conduct would always remain professional and would not obstruct the patient/therapist relationship. 

But that was before she ever felt anything quite like this. She stood there, trapped between his legs, frozen in the strong hands that were gripping her arms. Her mind warred with her body on how bad of a decision this would be and all she could mutter was “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he demanded.

“Yes, I want you to kiss me…but - ”

Before she could finish her thought, Mitch wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her body flush against his. His lips found her mouth and willed it to open for him.  His tongue darted in, probing deeply, exploring the depths of her sensuality. Rylie’s body shifted closer and she tentatively nudged her hips against him, bringing out a heavy groan of desire from deep within Mitch’s chest. Her warm mocha
colored eyes darkened with pleasure at the greedy sound, giving her the confidence to continue feasting on his mouth, devouring his taste and the feel of his lips on hers. 

Reaching up to his face, her hands cupped his cheeks, the feel of his beard stubble stinging her palms. Snaking them back behind his head, her fingers threaded through his hair, encouraging him even further.

His hands suddenly moved under her to cradle her butt and with a powerful motion, he hoisted her up to straddle his lap. Her legs bent on each side of him, where she nestled against his arousal, which was pressing hard against her own most sensitive spot, burning through the fabric of her jeans. 

“You feel so damn good,” he growled, releasing her mouth and trailing his wet lips across her jaw and down her neck. Rylie arched her neck and angled her head back, giving him more access, as he continued to plant searing kisses down to the delicate part of her throat, just above the collar of her buttoned shirt. He was ravenous, unyielding and so damn appealing. 

Rylie began to feel the tight knot begin to burn down from her belly into her core.  A tingling sensation unlike anything else, screaming for release from the exquisite tension. Mitch’s hand moved out from underneath her cradled ass, to work its way slowly up her waist and side, until it reached the pinnacle of its destination. His thumb grazed her nipple, which upon its command tightened into a hard peak. She let out a lusty moan as he continued to circle and court the hardened flesh with his fingers. Her breasts swelled in needy response.