“But you’re not supposed to be contracting your abs, not for this one. This is just a stretch. Don’t engage any muscles, just lay there and let me fold you up like a pretzel.”
Okay, that last part was pretty funny. I tried to do what he said, but I kept tensing up, afraid that something was suddenly going to start hurting. After what I’d been through, it didn’t seem unusual for me to worry about that.
“Focus on something pleasant,” he urged. “Close your eyes and go to your happy place.”
Did I even have a happy place? None that I could think of at the moment. I did love sitting in the sun on the back deck, looking at the gorgeous woods, but thinking about that wasn’t enough to keep me from tensing up.
Being in Spencer’s bedroom had made me pretty happy today. And so had seeing him shave. It was so sensual, the way he’d leaned forward and run his fingers along his jawline. And it had allowed me to see that the muscles of his back were just as impressive as his front.
So yeah, that was a pretty good memory. It helped me relax—but it also helped me notice how close Raphael was. His strong hands were firm on the bare skin of my good leg. Then he rested my heel on his shoulder. “Just take a few deep breaths, and then I’ll stretch it a little farther.”
Normally, I was more flexible than this, but my range of movement was hindered by the need to keep my bad leg still. And right now, it was also hindered by the fact that I was getting turned on again. A handsome man was touching me. He had my foot up by his head. God, if he were between my legs, this would be an actual sex position.
“Stop moving your hips,” Raphael said. “Just hold still.”
I’d been moving my hips? Jeesh, what was next, moaning his name?
“Ready for the next position?” he asked, and I nodded. He placed one hand on my calf and the other under my thigh. Then he bent my knee and pressed it toward my chest. “Let me know if you can’t go any farther without moving your bad leg.”
“Okay,” I managed to say. Somehow, this stretch was easier than the other one. Soon, I was clutching my knee to my chest. Raphael scooted in closer, and his knee brushed against my hip, making me jolt.
“What was that?” he asked. “Are you in pain?”
“Not exactly.” This was like torture. A few hours ago, a shirtless man had appeared next to my bed, and now Raphael was practically on top of me.
He frowned, staring down at me. “Why are you grinding your hips? You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Is it a muscle spasm?” The concern in his eyes unexpectedly struck me as funny.
“No, not that.” I did my best to stay still.
“Come on, cher. Think of me as a personal trainer, and tell me what’s wrong.”
The absurdity of the situation was getting to me. “You had articles on everything under the sun on your website,” I said, trying not to laugh.
“So?”
“So, maybe you got one or two of them confused. Maybe these stretches aren’t sports medicine at all.”
His expression was baffled. “Then what would they be from?”
I couldn’t help it; I started laughing. “Have you ever written an article on sex positions?”
Raphael seemed to take in the way my knee pressed against my chest. And then the way his knee was touching my hip. Then he closed his eyes and shook his head. His cheeks flushed, and then he let out a short laugh. “What am I going to do with you, cher?”
I was laughing harder now. “I was wondering the same thing a few minutes ago.”
Raphael shook his head again. To my surprise, he shifted around and lay on his back next to me. Carefully, I lowered my good leg to the mattress.
“Spencer said you were bored and needed some extra stimulation,” he said. “Is this how you’ve found it? Entertaining dirty thoughts?”
“It beats staring at the ceiling,” I said, which was exactly what I was doing now.
“Touché.” Surprising me again, he took my hand in his and squeezed gently. “But these exercises are important.”
“I know. I’ll be good next time. But maybe we could stick to the ones that aren’t in the Kama Sutra.”
The somewhat shocked look on his face got me giggling all over again. But I didn’t care. Yes, I was stuck in bed again. Yes, I was lying on my back, my most hated position.
But I wasn’t alone. I had a friend with me. Somehow, that made all the difference.
16
Flynn
“Flynn!”
I nearly dropped the stethoscope and patted Mrs. O’Leary as I straightened up. “Over here.”
My brother had made one of his rare appearances on my property. Usually, he had too much going on at his house to come over here.