Page 30 of Tough Score
"In college they were cadavers."
He chuckles at my admission. "I knew it. I'm your first, huh?"
I step closer, gripping the hem of his t-shirt. My gaze flicks up to his for a moment, seeking consent. He nods, and I slowly lift the shirt.
“Yes, my first naked patient. But don’t let it go to your head.”
“If you’re worried about me getting a big head, I wouldn’t recommend looking down.”
Despite my best intentions, my eyes drift down Reeve’s sculpted torso, tracing the defined grooves leading to the deep V of his pelvis, where dark wisps of his happy trail tease just above the waistband of his gym shorts.
God, this man is stunning.
The thought of what lies beneath that fabric sends a thrill through me, and I remind myself firmly that I’m his physical therapist and nothing more.
And then my attention catches on something else.
Purple and yellow bruising on the side of his body peeks out of his shorts and past his hip bone. It's where he took the largest hit from the grill of the hit-and-run vehicle.
"Reeve..." I say, trying to mask the crack in my voice as emotion wants to break through.
He hooks a finger under my chin and gently lifts so that my focus turns up to meet his gaze.
"It's just a bruise. I get them every day at work. It'll fade," he pulls his finger back, gripping the crutch again. "I'd rather we keep doing what we were doing."
Heat floods my cheeks as I reach out, sliding his shorts down his legs while ensuring the waistband doesn’t touch his injured knee. “Let’s concentrate on keeping you from slipping in the shower instead of your… exhibitionist tendencies.”
As soon as his shorts hit the ground, my eyes widen in shock. I was not prepared for Reeve’s impressive size.
My jaw nearly drops as I take in the sight of him fully undressed in front of me.
It's been too long since the last time I was with a man. My reaction to Reeve makes it entirely evident.
“Fair enough," he says, pulling me from my gawking. "But just so we're clear, you didn't have to go as far as getting me in the shower if you wanted to see it—”
“Stop,” I cut him off, laughter attempting to bubble out of my throat as I try to block it with the back of my hand.
Be professional for the love of God, Keely.
“This is serious, and if you fall while under my supervision—likely ending your career for good—Coach Bex will probably cut the brakes to my car,” I warn.
I saw the look in Coach Bex's eyes when he gave me the deadline. He wants his player back and I could tell that he wasn't completely convinced that I'm the PT for the job. The look he gave me before we left the hospital was stern but hopeful.
Reeve's gaze roams over my body, taking in the way his oversized t-shirt hangs loose over my silhouette, the way his rolled-up boxers give me almost no curves, but even still, the way he's looking at me has my center clenching.
“Are you really wearing that into the shower?” he asks.
A blush creeps up my cheeks. “I don't have anything else to wear. Even if my luggage had made it, I definitely didn’t pack a bathing suit for Seattle in the fall.”
Reeve nods, his expression softening. “Okay,” he says, turning away from me. His muscles tense as he pulls his crutches from under his arms and sets them against the glass shower door. He grips the shower walker tightly on both sides; determination etched on his face as he maneuvers himself into the shower without a hitch.
"Take your time," I say, stepping closer to the edge of the shower,my hands outstretched, wanting to be near in case he starts to slip.
He steps into the hot spray of the shower, a sigh passing through his lips, his shoulders relaxing as the warmth envelops him.
I can see the tension in his body begin to melt away.
I watch from the outside of the shower as the hot water cascades down his back and perfect glutes. I remember that first night we met at the bar—the spark between us igniting in playful banter and being wrapped up in his hoodie, feeling safer than I have in a long time. I didn't realize just how safe I actually was being with Reeve.