by AJ Renee
Her words bring two things to my mind. First, benefits. My mind shoots straight to the gutter with that singular word. Sexy, dirty possibilities and my body heats immediately. Before my dick can give away the directions my thoughts have gone I’m slammed in the chest with the second reminder, patient-therapist.
Now she’s looking at me with worry. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“No. That’s fine. It’s Friday night, I’m sure you have a hot date tonight,” I tease, and see the truth in her eyes. Forcing my eyes shut, I rely on my years of training to steady myself. There’s no reason she needs to see how her upcoming activities affect me.
Of course she’s going on a date. Any man would be stupid to not see what a catch Isabel Marchant is. The woman is gorgeous, intelligent, and stronger than you’d think. I smile at the latter because she’s proven to me on more than one occasion how strong she is.
“Thanks. It’s just a working dinner,” she whispers, and we return to our silent exchange.
A working dinner. Something about it still bothers me, but I’ll admit it sounds better than her meeting with some douchebag who wants her out of her panties. I force the thought aside and focus on her hands.
I melt into her touch. My tired and overworked leg relaxes under her ministrations. This is most definitely her calling. The woman pushes me to the max and then turns around to tend to my body after she puts it through the ringer.
The familiar rustle of her instant ice sounds. “So I won’t see you until Monday. I want you to do some of those exercises I mentioned. You also need to make sure you stretch a few times a day. The better range of motion you get in this leg, the better you’ll walk in your prosthetic.”
Damn. I hadn’t even considered that with the weekend upon us we wouldn’t see each other. Every day this week she was my reason for getting out of bed. Belle is slipping under my skin, and it doesn’t make me too happy. I need this weekend to separate myself from her—to gain perspective that this woman is far too good for me.
In my past life, the one before my leg was removed from my body and my mother still lived, I could have had Belle. I probably would have had her six ways from Sunday by now.
“Okay. Twenty minutes like normal. I’m going to go clean up and get ready. Let me know if you need me.”
“Got it…” My lips twitch before I whisper, “Beast master.”
“Hey!” Belle chuckles and swats my hip.
All I can focus on is her fingertips as they graze my skin above my shorts. She didn’t mean to be sexual in any way, but when our eyes meet, I see the touch affected her as well. Belle gasps and pulls her hand back as if she touched a hot skillet. Her top teeth nip at her lower lip, and the urge to kiss her hits me hard.
“Sorry—Uh—I’m gonna go put my stuff away and get ready,” she spouts nervously.
My heart thunders in my chest as I watch her stand. Closing my eyes, I give her the space to flit around without stumbling with more nerves.
I never used to have trouble with the ladies. They flocked to me. I love women and everything about them. Their soft and firm parts. Their expressive tendencies. Their desire for more of me.
That was my life then. My life now doesn’t even involve a bout of porn or lube. It wasn’t until Belle that I learned my dick still worked. A hard-on gone to waste. I can never have her, and it was my goal this weekend to drill that fact into my sex-deprived body.
Isabel
I tuck the garment bag over my arm and grab the bag containing my shoes and makeup. Originally, I planned on arriving early and dressing in the hotel’s lobby bathroom. That was until the words came out of my mouth. Now I’m walking up Viktor’s salted sidewalk to use his bathroom.
Looking around, I smile at the shoveled driveway and steps. The big grump was cared for, and it brought a lightness to my chest. I inhale the cold air, hoping to chase away the unprofessional feelings that keep trying to rise to the surface. With as many cold breaths as I find myself taking, I might have to bring our sessions outside.
“He’s your patient.” I chastise myself before turning the knob and stepping inside. “You still good over there?” I call out as I step out of my snow boots.
I chuckle when he pretends to snore loud enough for me to hear. I slip my gloves into my jacket and hang it on the hook by the door. “Holler if you need me,” I call out and walk down the hall, pausing briefly to note the unmade bed in his room.
My mind wanders off on its own. Images of me lying on that bed. Viktor between my legs, eyes like pools of desire looking down on me. Our bodies rising and falling as they tumble into wave after wave of pleasure.
A small moan slips from my lips, drawing my attention back to the now. What is wrong with me? I wonder with a shake of my head. As I enter the bathroom, I remind myself for the millionth time this week that Viktor Prinz is my patient. Maybe if I tell myself this a few more hundred times it will finally stick?
It didn’t matter that he’s sex on a stick, funny, loyal, and kind behind his gruffness. None of that matters because ethically I shouldn’t be entertaining any thoughts of his mouth on mine or anywhere else on my body.
I splash cold water on my face in an attempt to cool my fevered skin. It doesn’t work. Nothing seems to work to drive that man from my thoughts.
I undress and slip into my long-sleeved sweater dress. The material is like a second skin and reaches just below my knees. At the bottom of the garment bag, I find my pair of rolled-up tights and slip them on. I throw my discarded clothes into the bag and grab my high-heeled black boots from the bottom.
With a check of the time, I realize I’m going to be late. I opt for only doing my eyes and putting on some lipstick before slipping a long gold chain over my head.
I couldn’t seem to let Viktor believe I was going out with another man when I saw the sadness flash in his eyes. It was a working dinner with my boss. Normally, I wouldn’t go through the trouble of dressing up for one of these, but Toby set it up at a fancy restaurant in the hotel.
Turning around, I make sure I grabbed everything and step out of the bathroom. Will Viktor like how I look? “Stop it, Isabel!” I hiss at myself. With a deep breath, I walk down the hall and push my inappropriate thoughts aside.
I pause at his door again. Only this time something on his dresser pulls me in. Silence from where I’ve left him leaves me daring a peek. I don’t belong in here. I haven’t been invited in, but it doesn’t stop my progression to his dresser.
On a laced handkerchief I find a single red rose. Or at least what is left of it. The edges around the petals have darkened as it is beginning to wilt and dry. This rose doesn’t fit in with the image of the masculine man in the living room.
My unsteady hand raises on its own. I hold my breath as the pad of my finger inches closer to the rose, but I can’t stop the pull.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Viktor roars.
I jump, guilty at being caught in his room without his permission. The thunderous expression on his face distorts his handsome features. For the first time ever, I fear him. I freeze in place. I tell my feet to move farther into the room, but I’m stuck.
His face contorts with emotion as he looks from me to the rose. Viktor looks like a warrior out for blood. It would be beautiful, if not for the fact that he’s set on having my head on a spike. I’ve never seen him look at me with murderous intent. Holy hell, I’ll be okay to never experience this expression ever again in my life.
It doesn’t matter that this man is on crutches. His presence is larger than anything I’ve experienced on a normal day. Right now? It’s suffocating. Anger rolls off of him in waves, and I’m trying to understand what the hell just happened.
Viktor makes it to the dresser in a few strides. I tip my head and look up at him as his muscles bunch. He looks next to us, and only then do I notice the mirror. Our eyes meet in the cracked reflection, our faces spliced with the fractures, and unlike all of the other times there are no sparks of desire.
No, his energy is pulsating with so much pain that I step forward. “I’m so—”
“Get out!” he roars.
Those two words break the invisible barrier that has frozen me in place. I move around him quickly and stop at the door. “I really am sorry,” I stutter and force myself to leave. Normally, I would stand up to such behavior, but I can’t. I trespassed into his private quarters. I wasn’t invited in there. I had snuck in like a thief, and now I’m running out of that house like the hounds of hell are chasing me.
Embarrassment and shame cause tears to pool in my eyes. Moving quickly over the sidewalk, my heels hit a patch of ice and I stumble. The cold temperatures sting my skin as snowflakes fall all around me.
I realize I’ve left my boots and jacket inside the house. There is no way I’ll make my way back in there. At least not today. I throw my things in the back seat and get behind the wheel. I cover my face with my hands and let the tears fall.
A few minutes later, I examine my blotchy skin and the eye liner that has smudged below my eyes. I repair the damage as best as I can and point my car toward the hotel, hoping that two days apart is long enough to calm the beast inside of Viktor Prinz.
My fingers drum a random beat on the steering wheel as I stare up at the house. Two days. Two days without Viktor’s humor, sexiness, or gruffness, and I’m going crazy. I want to run into his house and see that handsome face so bad it hurts.
Only, what if two days hasn’t been enough to calm him down?
My heart and my mind are in a battle of wills at this point. My mind reminds me that anything with Viktor would cross a line I’ve never crossed before in my career, potentially ruining my good name and reputation.
My heart. Shoot, it reminds me constantly of the man. There is so much under that mask of thick skin, made of pain and anger. I haven’t come close to penetrating his armor. My heart doesn’t seem to care about what my mind is telling me. My heart just wants to rip off his clothes. To lick every patch of skin exposed above and below the belt. I chuckle as my core clenches at the image. My body is completely on board with my heart.
Although, none of it matters if Viktor doesn’t feel the same way I do—a very probable scenario after what happened the last time I saw him. Surprisingly, he called a few times over the weekend. I ignored each call like a wuss, fully expecting him to tell me off and inform me that I was no longer his physical therapist. Toby didn’t say anything about changing Viktor’s treatment though, so here I am.
“Put on your big girl panties, Isabel.”
After a deep breath, I begin gathering my things from the trunk. Today the skies are blue, after the weekend storm that hit us. I look to my left and smile because once again someone has cleared the sidewalk and laid down salt. Good thing too, since my good snow boots are inside that house.
Carefully I walk up to the house, all the while giving myself a pep talk so I don’t chicken out. With a shaky hand, my knuckles strike the wooden door. When the door opens, we only stare at each other. Gone is the tortured and angry man from Friday afternoon.
“Belle…” he whispers.
I love his nickname for me, and I don’t think I can bear to hear it from anyone else. “Viktor.” I bite my lip because I don’t know what else to say or do.
He hops back so I can enter. A good sign. I cross the threshold and remind myself not to show this rabid dog fear. After biting back a giggle at the comparison, I turn toward him as he shuts the door.
I tilt my head back and study him. His face is beautiful. We’re about a foot apart, and the need to touch him is almost overwhelming. “You’re getting stronger,” I tell him, and my brows crease at how lame I sound.
His hand raises slowly, and the air in the room disappears. His thumb caresses the apple of my cheek before the large paw of a hand cups my face. I tell myself not to lean into it, but my heart overrules it. My lids flutter closed, and a soft sigh passes my lips.
Isabel Marchant, move away. This is a bad idea, my mind yells.
Yes! Yes! More! Make me yours! my heart chants.
“Belle, I’m so fucking sorry…” he whispers, and his breath warms my face.
I force myself to look at him, and I see his anguish. “It’s o—”
“No!” His eyes shut tight for a moment as he takes a deep breath. “No, Belle. My behavior was not okay. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Viktor, I’m sorry. I just saw the rose and it pulled me in, but that’s no excuse. I should have never been in your room.”
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” His thumb rubs small circles on my cheek, drawing me deeper into the abyss of insanity—wanting…needing more of Viktor.
“I wasn’t invited in there. Your room is off-limits,” I say before my mind, the bitch, adds, “I shouldn’t be in my patient’s bedroom.”
His thumb stills, and I watch the wall slam shut behind his eyes. Inside me, a steel band tightens around my heart. I want to say more, but I know I shouldn’t. No matter how bad I want to.
Viktor nods past me as he grabs his crutches under his arms. “You forgot your jacket and boots. I called to tell you, but you must have been busy.” Hurt coats the deep voice I normally enjoy so much.
He moves farther into the house and I’m left standing there, trying to understand the switch in his behavior. Any question as to whether this thing between us is just in my head had been squashed with that short encounter.
I force my mind to focus on the plan I created for him this week. He silently tracks me from afar as I set up for our session. “How are you feeling?” I ask, noting the hardness in his eyes.
“My leg feels good.”
I hear what he says and what he leaves out. His leg is fine, but that is all that is fine. I nod in understanding, unable to hide the wave of sadness that flows through me. “Have you been using your crutches every day?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” I say, pushing aside the growing frustration I feel from his cold attitude. “You’re getting strong, but I want you stronger. I want to work on your balance this week.”
Today’s session starts out like all the others. Except this time, so many of the things that have been left unsaid between us float around, threatening to strangle us.
When I place my hand on his forearm, his muscles bunch under my touch. I force my hand to stay still, even though my fingers itch with the need to explore. “We okay?”
“A-okay, beast master,” he teases, and I chuckle before his face becomes serious. “Belle, I’m good if you’re good.”
“Honey, I’m good.” The endearment slips out, but I don’t have the strength to beat myself up over it. If only things were different, I think to myself before moving our attention to today’s activities.
Viktor Prinz will be my biggest accomplishment to date. He’s so freaking strong and motivated, and he’s improved faster than I could ever hope for in such little time.
Viktor
I felt like the biggest asshole for how I acted toward Belle a week ago. Jesus, the expression on her face will be burned into my mind until the day I die. When I finally snapped out of it and spotted that she left without her jacket and boots, I felt even worse.
This Monday, I took my first real breath since I last saw her. I had been so overwhelmed with seeing her again that I nearly kissed her. I wanted to drink from her, taste those cherry-colored lips, memorize her flavor, drown in her touch. Beg for her forgiveness. That was until she shut it all down with the reminder that I’m her patient.
It’s now Friday again, and needing to get stronger, I have pushed myself every day for the two weeks since Belle banged on my door. It has been hard but now I’m like a damn peacock, strutting my feathers, hoping this beauty in front of me notices.
Balancing on my unharmed leg, I grin at Belle. “Soon I can compete in a one-legged race!”
“Stop it!” she laughs, and my chest puffs. “You’re awful.”
“What?” I chuckle. “All thos
e wrestlers on TV can suck it. I’m ready to participate in the One-Legged Man Ass-Kicking Contest.”
Belle snorts and covers her mouth. It’s the best sound ever. She shakes her head, but her eyes are bright with amusement. I love that I can make her laugh that hard.
Unable to resist the pull between us, I grab the side of her neck. My thumb presses against her jaw, and I tilt her beautiful face to mine. Her pulse beats erratically under my palm, giving away her reaction to my touch.
“Viktor,” she says on a sigh. I fucking love how needy it comes out.
Watching her carefully, I bring my lips a breath away from hers. Soft puffs of air hit mine as I cup her cheek with my free hand. I run my nose against hers and breathe her in before rubbing my lips against hers. It’s a whisper of a kiss, the opposite of the fingers of desire crawling across my body that demand I consume her.
“Belle…what you do to me,” I murmur against her lips.
Her small hands come to my waist, and my muscles tense at the touch. She sighs against my lips. “We shouldn’t.” Her words contradict her as she kisses me back. Only this time the tendrils of desire are igniting like gasoline. Belle nips at my lower lip, and I groan. My dick twitches when she does it again, and my nostrils flare as I struggle to keep myself in check.
I run my tongue along the seam of her mouth, and she lets me in. With a tilt of my head, I deepen our kiss. Our tongues tease and explore every corner they can reach. I drink her in as my heart pounds against my chest.
This woman is intoxicating, and now that I’ve finally had a taste, I don’t think it will ever be enough. She steps into me, closing the distance between us, and whimpers when she feels my hard-on against her belly.
“God, what you do to me,” I tell her again and kiss my way across her jaw to the outer shell of her ear. I feel myself thickening against her with the press of her breasts against my chest.
“I think you just got disqualified for the one-legged race,” the little minx tells me.
I chuckle and she moans as my breath fans along the sensitive skin of her ear. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” I kiss and lick my way down her neck, all the while memorizing her taste and the way her body responds to mine.
