by Amy Ruttan
“It’s not nothing.” She stood and went to the research lab door. Locked it.
“What’re you doing?” he asked.
“You’re going to sit down and I’m going to massage your leg.”
“I don’t think so,” Thorne snapped. “That’s highly inappropriate.”
“Do you have a massage therapist who does it for you? Or how about physical therapy?”
Thorne glared at her. “I don’t need either. I’ve been managing well with this prosthesis for some time now.”
Erica rolled her eyes. “Sit down, Captain, and that’s an order.”
“You’re ordering me now?”
She crossed her arms. “I am. You should have weekly massage therapy or physio appointments for your leg. It might have been five years since you lost it, but a prosthetic leg can be hard on the muscle. It’s painful.”
“I know it is,” he growled.
“Thorne, I can help relieve some of your pain. You can barely move, so I can’t even begin to imagine how you’ll get back home.”
She stared him down.
With a grunt of resignation he sat down in an office chair. “So how are you going to help me? Are you going to give me a shot of morphine or some other analgesics?”
“No, I’m going to massage you myself.” She slipped off her lab coat and set her phone down on the counter with her stethoscope.
“You’re…what?”
“I’m going to massage you. Drop your pants, Captain Wilder.”
CHAPTER TEN
THERE HAD BEEN many times since he’d first met Erica when he’d pictured her telling him to drop his pants and in all those scenarios it involved her in a bed, underneath him.
Not once had he ever fantasized about being locked in the research lab, in pain and having her ordering him to take his pants off so she could rub his stump. This was not perfection at all. This was far from it. He didn’t want her seeing him like this.
In pain.
Exposed.
“I don’t think I heard you correctly, Commander Griffin. You want me to take off my pants?”
She nodded. “Yes. You’re wearing suit trousers; it’ll be impossible to roll up the leg of said trousers over your prosthetic. Besides, you need to remove your prosthetic so I can massage where it hurts.”
“I don’t think that’s appropriate.” He tried to move away, but she blocked him.
“With all due respect, Captain Wilder, I’ve seen that leg before. I know that leg. I know what was done to it and I know how to relieve your pain.”
Though he didn’t want to, Thorne took a deep breath and then stood, unbuckling his pants and slipping them off. He tried not to let it bug him that she was seeing him like this: vulnerable. He didn’t let any woman see him with his pants off. He didn’t let any woman see him with just his prosthetic, let alone the remains of his leg.
Erica did have a point, though. She was the one who’d performed the surgery. She was the one who’d removed his leg, fashioned the stump which had left minimal scarring and a good socket to work a prosthetic in.
The surgeon side of him knew it was a damn good amputation.
The other side of him saw it was a fault. An imperfection. The absence of his leg reminded him that a piece of him was missing and how was that desirable to any woman?
What does it matter? She’s off-limits.
And that was why he did as she asked.
He sat down and unhooked the prosthetic, embarrassed that she was there. Their eyes met as she knelt down in front of him, helping him remove the prosthetic and the wrappings underneath, which helped prevent the chaffing.
Her touch was gentle as she ran her hand over his thigh. The simple touch made him grit his teeth as he held back the intense pleasure he was feeling. Her hands on him made his blood burn with need.
It had been so long since he’d been with a woman, but this was not how he’d pictured it. Not even close. The way he fantasized about Erica had nothing to do with his stump, of massaging the knots out of his muscles.
“It healed nicely,” she remarked, which kind of shattered the illusion.
“What?” he asked.
“The wound healed really nice. Barely any visible scarring.”
“It did. It was a good job.”
“I didn’t know. You were taken out of my care hours after surgery and then I never knew what became of you. You had no name, no record.”
Thorne shrugged. “Special Ops.”
“I know.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you have a lot of chaffing?”
“Only when I work long hours. Lanolin helps.”
She nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Let me know if I hurt you.”
“It’ll hurt no matter what you do, but I’m sure it will feel good after a while. It always does.”
“I thought you didn’t get a regular massage?”
“I don’t—well, not by someone else. I usually handle it on my own.”
Erica glanced up. “You should have someone else do it.”
“Don’t have time for that.” He winced as she touched him.
“Am I hurting you?”
Far from it. He loved her touching him.
“Get on with it,” he snapped.
“Just try and relax.” She began to rub the muscle in his thigh, which was hard as a rock and tense from the pain.
He let out a string of curses.
“Do you want me to stop?” she asked.
“No. It does feel good.”
“Your muscles are so knotted.”
He nodded and tried not to think about the fact that Erica was kneeling on the floor between his legs, touching him. If he thought about that, then he wouldn’t be able to hide anything from her.
So he focused on the pain, but that made it worse.
“Thorne, are you okay?”
“Fine,” he lied.
She deepened the massage and beads of sweat broke across his brow. His mind began to wander to that moment when Tyler had been lying in a pool of dirty water. The bullet had grazed him, but Thorne’s leg was on fire.
Still, he was the unit’s doctor first and foremost. He’d done his duty to make sure Tyler survived.
“You’re bleeding, man,” Tyler had said as he’d knelt down to tie a tourniquet around his leg.
“I’m fine,” Thorne had said. “It didn’t nick the artery. Just a bit of bleeding. It’ll be fine.”
“It’s an open wound in the sewer, Wilder.”
“I have antibiotics.” Thorne had dug through his first aid kit and pulled out a syringe of morphine and a needle and thread.
“What the heck are you doing, Wilder?” Tyler had asked in trepidation.
“Stitching. We still have to swim out to the sub waiting for us. It’s shark-infested water. I’m closing up the open wound now.”
“It’ll get infected that way.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll get back to the submarine and it’ll be fine. You’ll see, Tyler.”
Thorne had injected the painkiller and then threaded the needle…
He relaxed, as the pain from his stump seemed to be dissipating. He looked down at Erica working the muscle in his thigh and rubbing around his socket. It was a firm touch, but soft. Her hands were incredibly soft.
Don’t think about that.
“Tell me about the surgery,” he demanded.
“What surgery?”
“Mine,” he said. “Tell me about it. How bad was the leg?”
“Didn’t you read your report?”
“There wasn’t a lot of information. So tell me. How bad was it?”
“Bad. I won’t lie. Your leg was highly infected.”
Thorne nodded. “It went down to the bone?”
“Into the tissue,” she said. “You did a good repair job on yourself, but…”
“You don’t have to say it. I was trapped in an old sewer system for days. If we had been able to get out of there faster and get back to the sub I wouldn’t
have lost it. I would’ve been able to stop the spread of the infection.”
“Yes. Most likely you could’ve.”
Silence fell between them. It all came back to that moment. She was the one who’d taken his leg and he’d lost it.
“I don’t blame you.”
She snorted. “Really?”
“I did maybe at first, just a bit.”
“You had some pretty choice words for me when you heard me talking about taking it.”
“I was a bit fevered by then. My apologies.”
“I’m glad to hear you don’t blame me. I was worried you did,” she admitted, not looking at him, but he could see the pink rise in her cheeks.
“No. If the roles were reversed, and I was given no choice but to amputate or let you die, I would’ve done the same.”
“Does that help?” she asked gently as her ministrations softened.
“It does.”
She smiled. “I can tell. Your muscle isn’t so knotted. It’s relaxing.”
“You’re good with your hands,” he murmured and then gasped when he realized what he’d said. “Erica… I didn’t mean…”
Erica was stifling back a giggle and then he couldn’t help but laugh as well. It broke the tension that had fallen between them.
Smooth move.
“Well, I suppose I was due for something like that. I did order you to take off your pants.” She wiped a tear from her eyes and then stood. “I would hate for someone with a key to open that door and see me kneeling between your thighs without your pants on.”
“Good point.” He reached over and began to put on his prosthetic.
“No, let it breathe for a moment. Wearing your prosthetic for so long without a break is why your muscles were so tense.”
“So you want me to sit here in the research lab without pants.”
Erica grinned, her eyes twinkling. “For another ten minutes and then you can make yourself respectable and head for home. You need rest.”
“You do too.”
Her smile wobbled and she ran her fingers through her hair. “I have another eight hours on this shift and somehow during my day off I have to study for your intensive simulation.”
“You’re attending my simulation? I gave you two days off.”
“I’m not missing a chance to train with a former Special Ops Navy SEAL. Especially one who performed first aid on himself in the field.”
“That was nothing. That was survival.”
“I know.”
They smiled at each other. It was nice. He’d forgotten how much he missed being around her. His stupid avoiding tactic had cost him.
“Why don’t you find a nice on-call room and crash?”
“I think I’ll do that. I’ll leave you to put your pants on by yourself.”
“One leg at a time… Right—I only have one.” He winked at her.
“That’s a terrible joke.”
“I have more.” He grabbed his prosthetic. “Go. Rest. You have to rest while you can when you’re doing these long shifts.”
“I will, but promise me you’ll head for home and do the same. I am your second in command here; I can relieve you of your duty.”
“Would you get out of here?”
She smiled, grabbed her things and left. Thorne leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes.
He was relaxed for the first time in a long time. When he’d been at the San Diego hospital recovering in a private ward until he’d been able to be debriefed he’d balked at the idea of physiotherapy and massage therapy.
He was made of tougher mettle than that. He only did what was necessary to survive and any physiotherapist who got in his way didn’t last long. When he’d lost his leg, he hadn’t wanted anyone touching it. The pain was penance.
Erica was right. He needed more help. He needed someone who knew how to massage an amputee. He needed pain relief that wasn’t in the form of a pill.
He needed to learn how to manage his pain.
He wrapped his stump, put on his prosthetic, then pulled on his pants, making sure everything was presentable. When he put weight down on his legs, they ached, but they weren’t as bad.
A nice, hot shower and bed would help.
He left the research lab and, as he passed an on-call room, he saw Erica was passed out on a cot. She was lying on her side, with her hands curled up under her head. She looked like an angel.
Heck, she was an angel, and he was the very devil himself, because he wanted to join her. He wanted to curl up beside her, wrap his arms around her and lose himself. Only he didn’t deserve happiness. One wrong move had cost him his brother. Since he’d cost his brother a life of happiness, he couldn’t have what he’d taken from him.
He was unworthy.
You deserve it. It wasn’t your fault.
He ignored that voice.
He shut the door to the on-call room and headed out to his car, trying not to think about her between his legs, her hands on a part of him no one had seen in a very long time. He tried not to think about her.
Only, that was foolish.
He was a doomed man.
After her shift Erica showered, changed into some casual, comfortable clothes and headed down to the docks. The white hospital ship could be seen blocks away and she couldn’t help but grin when she saw it.
She’d served on the USNV Hope for so long it was home to her. It felt like she was going home and as she approached the docks, crew members and staff were filtering down the steps off the ship for a brief shore leave before the simulations started tomorrow.
Erica waited on the other side of the barricade, anxiously scanning the crowd for Regina. Of course, her people-watching was constantly interrupted by other colleagues and former crew members who were happy to see her.
When she’d served her time on the Hope she’d flown out of Sydney, Australia. Hope had been returning out to sea to start a three-month voyage of the South Seas and aid a tsunami disaster.
She hadn’t gotten a chance to give a lot of people a proper goodbye. Including Regina, who was very angry that Erica had left in such a rush, but when you were called by the Home Office there was little chance to say proper farewells. There were no gold watch ceremonies in the Navy. One day you were here, the next you could be reassigned and off somewhere else.
Regina was a nurse, but she wasn’t part of the Navy, and didn’t quite get all the nuances or strict rules which Erica was bound by.
“Erica!”
Erica turned and saw a short, ebony-haired girl pushing her way through the throng of people toward the barricade.
Erica waved at her friend and waited while the Master of Arms cleared Regina for entrance. It only took a few minutes and then that ball of energy was running toward her and throwing her arms around her.
“Oh, my goodness. I’ve missed you, you crazy lady,” Regina said, shaking Erica slightly. “Why the heck did you have to go and get reassigned, and to Okinawa of all places?”
Erica chuckled. “It’s good to see you too, Regina. And for your information I quite like Okinawa Prefecture. It’s very laid-back here.”
“A Naval base laid-back?” Regina asked in disbelief. “I find that laughable.”
“Okay, the base may not be laid-back, but the feeling around the island certainly is. Wait until you meet Scooby. He runs the Pineapple Face.”
Regina wrinkled her nose. “Please tell me that’s a bar?”
“Yes. It’s awesome. It’s like something out of old sixties sitcom reruns, and the proprietor Scooby is a huge Elvis fan. Huge.”
“Oh, I like him already!” Regina slipped an arm through hers and they walked away from the docks. “So I’m being put up in your quarters, eh?”
“Yes. I hope you don’t mind that I made those arrangements.”
“Are you kidding me? Of course I don’t. My new bunk mate on the Hope is a bit loony and she snores. Loudly.”
“Sorry to hear that, but I talk in my sleep. You used to complai
n about that.”
“I’d rather hear you spout off about elves, turkeys and whatever other nonsense you’re dreaming about than Matilda’s snore conversations with herself. It’s horrible. I suggested she hit the hospital and the sleep apnea clinic. Seriously, there were a few times I thought she was going to inhale her pillow.”
Erica laughed until her sides hurt. “So what else is happening on the ship?”
“Same old same old. There’s nothing new to report other than Captain Dayton has a new protégé. His name is Lieutenant Clancy and he’s really good-looking.”
“How good-looking?” Erica asked, having an inkling where this was going. Regina was married to an officer who worked in San Diego, but just because Regina was married it didn’t seem to stop her from scoping out gorgeous guys and potential husbands for Erica.
“It’s my hobby,” Regina had remarked once.
Regina scanned the crowd and then subtly pointed ahead of them. “There. That’s how good-looking he is.”
Erica glanced over, trying to be nonchalant. Regina was right; he was handsome. Tall and broad-shouldered from the rigorous training. His officer ranking meant he was probably fresh out of Annapolis: Captain Dayton only picked protégés who came from his alma mater. It also meant that he was most likely a trauma surgeon, as was Captain Dayton.
As she was looking at him, he glanced their way and smiled at her. One of those smiles that made Regina swoon and Erica want to put up her defenses.
“He’s coming this way,” Regina hissed in Erica’s ear, barely containing her excitement.
“Hi, there,” he said.
“Lieutenant Clancy, this is my friend, Commander Erica Griffin.” Regina could barely contain her excitement.
Lieutenant Clancy came at attention and saluted. “I’m sorry, Commander. I didn’t realize who you were.”
“At ease. It’s okay, Lieutenant. I’m not wearing my uniform. How would you know?”
Clancy smiled. “Are you assigned to this base, Commander?”
“I am. My previous assignment was the Hope.”
“Really? So you’re the surgeon who Captain Dayton has been gushing over since I arrived on board.”
She chuckled. “One and the same.”
“He didn’t mention how beautiful you were, Commander.”
