The Healing Touch - Anniversary Edition (A Manwhore Series Book 3)

by Apryl Baker

  When they pulled up to the front of the hotel, she got out quickly, but Dimitri sat there. She looked through the windshield and noticed sweat beaded his forehead. She opened the door and leaned in. “You okay?”

  He gave her a curt nod and got out. He took his time coming around, and she spotted his slight limp. His legs were bothering him. That was why he’d been so quiet, not because of some sexual tension between them. She berated herself as she met him and slipped an arm around him. Here she’d gone and wrapped herself up in her own worries, and her best friend was in pain. She should have offered to drive.

  Dimitri leaned into her, and they made their way to the elevators. He didn’t say anything until they got back to their room, and then he collapsed on the small sofa, groaning.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting? I would have driven.” Becca helped him stretch his legs out and ignored his baleful expression.

  “Maybe because I hate feeling like a fucking invalid?”

  “Well, acting like some macho idiot and pretending nothing’s wrong when it obviously is doesn’t help things either.”

  “I hate this.”

  The quiet venom in his tone startled her. She looked up and saw the anger, the desolation, the depression floating in his eyes. Her heart broke just a little for him. “The body heals at its own pace, D. You have to be patient.”

  “Have you ever known me to be a patient man?” He quirked a half-smile at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Does it come on suddenly? You seemed okay earlier.”

  “Not usually. I’ve missed my physical therapy for three days now. It gets worse when I don’t go.”

  “Dimitri Kincaid! You know you can’t miss your PT!”

  “I hadn’t planned on it, but since I had to come ferret out a best friend who refused to answer my calls, there was no helping it.”

  “Low blow, Dimitri, low blow.” She paused trying to position his legs and looked up at him. “Is there anything you can do yourself that you usually do with your physical therapist?”

  “He starts off by massaging the legs, says it helps to stimulate the nerves. Then we go through a series of exercises. If you help me, we might be able to do them.”

  She frowned, thinking. “I don’t know. What if I do something wrong and hurt you?”

  “Trust me, Becca, there isn’t anything you can do that could hurt worse than this damn burning.”

  Becca wasn’t so sure about that, but she’d try if it helped ease his pain. “Which exercise do we do first?”

  “The massage comes first.”

  She searched his face for any ulterior motives. If he had any, he hid them behind a mask of pain. She was going to have to help him because, in a way, this was her fault. She’d made him miss his PT. Granted, he’d hidden all that from her, but she still felt responsible.

  Dimitri watched her struggle with her decision. Sure, he could do the exercises on his own, and he didn’t know if the massages helped or not, but he wanted to feel her hands on his bare flesh. Putting her in this position was wrong on so many levels, but asshole that he was, he didn’t care.

  “All right, I’ll do my best.” She sounded so unsure of herself, he almost stopped her, but the thought of her hands on him…it drove him to ignore everything he knew was right.

  “Let me change into some shorts.” Getting up, he limped his way to his suitcase and pulled out a pair of khaki shorts and went into the bathroom to change. His legs burned with the effort it took to walk that far then back to the bed. He stretched out on his stomach and called Becca into the bedroom.

  She walked in slowly, her eyes wide. Her breathing was a little ragged, and he couldn’t tell if it was a panic attack or simply her reaction to him. “You good?”

  “I…” She swallowed and finally nodded.

  “If it’s too much, if it’s going to cause a panic attack…” He was an asshole, but not that big of an asshole.

  “No.” She came over to the bed. “My panic attacks only happen around crowds or when I think about having to go out into them.”

  “You realize we just went to a very crowded restaurant, and you had no hint of one.” He turned his head so he could see her face. “You were even laughing and joking.”

  “I know.” She sat down and pushed his legs over so she had room to work. “It’s pretty amazing.”

  “I think it’s because you weren’t thinking about it.” Her warm hands trailed up the backs of his legs, and he let out a little hiss.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No, it’s fine. Just do a deep tissue massage.”

  “You know, you never asked if I knew how to give a massage.” Her fingers sank a little deeper into the muscles and worked their way up toward his knees.

  “You’re doing perfect.” He cleared his throat, thanking God he had the good sense to lie on his stomach. If she could see the response she was arousing, she’d smack him and stomp off. “So, why do you think you’ve had no panic attacks since we’ve been on our trip?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that.” Those magic fingers crept higher up his thighs, and he let out a low, shuddering breath. “I had a mini attack last night when we got here.”

  “That was an attack? I just thought you were nervous.” He’d have to pay more attention to her reactions so he could learn what stressed her.

  “It was a mild one.” She gave him a wry smile. “Not even a two-point-oh on the Richter scale.”

  “So, what do you think? Was your shrink right? Did facing the crowds help?”

  Becca didn’t answer him right away. How to explain something she couldn’t really understand herself? She needed to talk to her doctor, in all honesty, to make sense out of it. She hadn’t been panicking left and right, and she had been surrounded by more people than she was comfortable with.

  She’d been distracted each time she’d had to face the crowds, thanks to Dimitri. Perhaps the distraction was the key to getting through her panic. Another question to ask her psychiatrist.

  “I honestly don’t know, D. It might have been that, or it could be they weren’t huge crowds, and my subconscious realized it.”

  “Maybe, but we’ll see later today…”

  He let out another hiss, and she stopped, her hands splayed out over his upper thighs. “I swear to God, Dimitri, if I’m hurting you and you’re not telling me…”

  “I promise, you’re not.” He buried his head in the pillow, and she frowned. What the hell was wrong with him, then?

  “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I’m stopping right now. I will not hurt you.”

  “Fuck, Becca, you’re not hurting me. I’m doing my best not to grab you and show you exactly what those hands of yours are doing to me, okay?”

  She jumped off the bed and stumbled, falling on her ass. She stared up at him, her own emotions so out of control, it wasn’t even funny.

  He sat up, grimacing, and not from his legs. She saw exactly why he was in pain this time. Her eyes widened and refused to move from that particular piece of his anatomy. It looked very happy.

  “Dimitri. You need to stop this. It’s going to ruin our friendship, and you know it.”

  “I know that, but I can’t help what I’m feeling here, Becca. I’ve been arguing with myself since you bent over in your fridge. I keep changing my mind. One minute, I’m all for keeping my hands off you because I love you and I value our friendship. The next minute, my dick takes over, and he doesn’t give two shits about any of that. He just wants what he wants, everything else be damned. I’m driving myself insane with all these whiplash emotions. I am starting to understand how much of an asshole I am. I want you, and I’m beginning to think like my dick. Friendship be damned.”

  Wow. She hadn’t been expecting that confession. It tilted her reality a little, but not far enough that she would let herself become one of his women.

  “Dimitri…”

  He put up a hand to stop her from finishing her sentence. “No. You w
ant me, Becca. I know you do.”

  She let out a long, slow breath. “Yes, I do want you, but that doesn’t mean I’ll act on it. I value me too much.”

  “What do you mean?” He frowned, not understanding.

  “I love you, Dimitri. You’re the one person who means something to me besides my brother, but I won’t let lust cloud any of that. The minute I say yes, the minute I give in to my own lust and do what I want to do, I become one of your flavors of the week. I will no longer be your best friend, but a booty call. Do you know how that would make me feel, D?”

  “You would never be a flavor of the week to me, or a booty call. You are my best friend, the one woman I love with all my heart besides my own mother. Don’t you get that?”

  “I do. I know that, but if you fuck me, then what am I, D?”

  “You’d still be my Becca, that’s who.”

  She let out a bitter laugh. “No, I wouldn’t be. I’d be just another woman you fucked. I want more than that.”

  “What do you mean?” He swung his legs over the bed, wincing. They were sore, the burn lessening, but still there. What was she talking about? More?

  “It doesn’t matter. Just know that you and me? We will never be fuck buddies. Understand?”

  “No, I don’t understand. Explain to me what you meant when you said you want more.” Did she mean what he thought she meant? His blood pressure started to rise. He could feel his blood rushing and pounding so loud, it beat in his ears. No matter his earlier thoughts of wanting to explore this thing between them, he wasn’t expecting to find what he found staring him in the face.

  “Look, we still have a ton of stuff to do, so let’s just get through this, okay?”

  She wouldn’t look at him, and his suspicions began to grow. How the hell had he missed this? Because he never looked, that was how. More. She wanted a real relationship, but he didn’t do relationships, not like she wanted. He did “let’s have fun for a while” relationships, then it was over. Becca knew that.

  But hadn’t he just been thinking of trying more?

  Fuck, he didn’t know what to do.

  “Becca, look at me.”

  She shook her head and scooted backward toward the books and the pre-order bags. “Don’t, Dimitri. Just leave it alone.”

  “Becca…”

  “Please.”

  The anguish in her tone shut him up. He sat there, rubbing his legs, his dick long forgotten. He’d missed it. When did it start? Had it been there all along, and he was too self-obsessed to see it? Probably. She loved him. Said it to him every time she said goodbye. Hell, she’d even braved her own anxiety to help him. She loved him.

  No, she was in love with him.

  And he couldn’t return that. Yes, he loved her. Truly loved her, but the forever kind of love? He didn’t know if he’d ever felt that. Maybe what he felt for her was the forever kind of love, and he was too stupid to see it. Fuck, he needed to talk to someone.

  The ironic thing was the one person he’d have talked this out with was Becca, but that was out of the question.

  She started putting books in bags, ignoring him completely. She was hunched over, withdrawn. He’d done that to her, pushed her so far into herself, she felt the need to shield herself with silence.

  He grabbed his shoes, his phone, and left the room, not sure what to say to her.

  Becca let out her breath when he left. He knew. She’d seen it in his eyes. He finally realized the depth of her love for him.

  And he’d left.

  So much for her fantasy of him realizing how much he loved her too and vowing his undying devotion. She laughed, the sound brittle. Romance novel enthusiast that she was, she’d held out that hope, but there wasn’t going to be an HEA for her.

  Instead of confessing love, he’d run from her and her feelings. How the hell were they going to get through this weekend with this awkwardness now invading their relationship?

  She knew this trip was a bad idea. She should have listened to that wise old woman clucking at her in the back of her head, but no. She’d given in to him because of how much she loved him.

  And what had it cost her?

  Probably the only real friend she’d ever had.

  Stifling a sob, she started to put books into bags and tried to focus on that instead of the sounds of her heart shattering into a thousand tiny stars to fill up the heavens with lost chances and unfulfilled wishes.

  Chapter Ten

  Dimitri walked until he found a small park and sat down on the first bench he came to, the burning in his legs a welcome sensation. It helped combat some of the shock currently running through every cell in his body.

  She loved him.

  How the fuck had it happened and he’d not seen it?

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  He’d kept pressing her, and she’d tried to stay away, to put distance between them because if she gave in, it would mean more to her than it did him. He was a fucking romance author, so he knew that was how she’d feel. He’d written that so many times, but in his books, the women always ended up with their man. Destiny and all that.

  Maybe subconsciously he’d known all along, and instead of letting himself admit it, he’d acted on it in his books? He groaned and let his head rest in his hands. Too much psychobabble, even for him. What was he going to do? How was he going to go back in that room, knowing he couldn’t give her what she wanted?

  He pulled out his phone and called the one person who might help him.

  “Son.” The deep sound of his father’s voice instantly calmed him. The old man had always been the person he looked up to and asked for advice. Ronin Kincaid never judged, never talked to his sons in a condescending manner, and never got so angry he couldn’t see reason. He was who Dimitri hoped to be one day.

  “Hi, Papa. I didn’t wake you, did I?” It might be early afternoon here, but it was getting late in Russia.

  “It’s only nine p.m. I’m not in the grave yet.”

  Dimitri laughed at the disgruntled sound of his father’s voice. The man might be fifty, but he was in better condition than his sons were. He’d probably go to the grave with his soldier’s physique. “How you been, old man?”

  Ronin snorted at the old man jab. “I’m good, but from the sound it, you’re not so good. What’s wrong, boy?”

  Leave it to his papa to know the subtle nuances in his voice that gave away how upset he was. If he’d called any of his brothers, they’d never have deciphered it. It was a parent thing, or so his mama claimed. He’d been thirteen and contemplating smoking the pot his friend had given him. His mother had known. How? He had no clue, but she had.

  “It’s a girl, Papa.”

  “It’s always about a girl.” Ronin chuckled on the other side of the line. “You just figuring this out?”

  “No, I’m not just figuring this out. I write romance novels for a living.”

  “Doesn’t mean you know shit about women, Dimitri. You write fiction. Until you fall for a girl and go through all the ups and downs of that, you know shit, boy.”

  Truer words had never been spoken. Nothing he wrote had prepared him for this. “That’s why I’m calling, Papa. I need some advice about that. How did you know you loved Mama? What was it that made you realize she was yours?”

  His old man let out a low whistle. “You got yourself in a pickle, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, Papa, I do, and I might end up hurting the only person I never want to.”

  “Tell me.”

  Dimitri spent the next hour telling him about Becca, from when they met up until when he’d walked out on her in the hotel room.

  “You got yourself into a fine mess, there.” He broke off, saying something to someone in the background.

  “Is that Mama?”

  “No, it’s the wicked witch.”

  “What?”

  “Your grandmother. She wants to know about this girl.”

  Dimitri groaned. Leave it to Babby to eavesdrop. “Tell her noth
ing! I want to actually try to fix this thing without her twisting me up in knots.”

  And she would. His grandmother would have him so out of whack, he’d never make a decision, other than the decision she wanted him to make.

  “I told her you’d call her later, once your head was sorted out.” Ronin coughed, and it worried Dimitri. His father had been coughing a lot recently. His mother sent him an email about it. Said he refused to go see a doctor.

  “You been to the doctor yet about that cough, old man?”

  “Your mother’s been in your ear, eh?” He grunted, but it wasn’t aggravated. “I have an appointment for next week. I just don’t want to say anything until I know what’s going on. No sense worrying her if there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Papa, she’s worried because she thinks you aren’t. If you tell her you have an appointment, she’ll settle down. You’re causing her worry by keeping this from her.”

  Another grunt. “I might tell her, don’t know yet. Back to you and your girl. So, what made me know your mama was it for me? Well, I don’t think it really was just one thing. She snuck up on me, real stealthy-like. Her smile drew me in, her laugh made me ask her out. She teased me, she threw me off balance, and she did a number on my head.” He laughed, and Dimitri grinned thinking about his old man off balance. He always had such control. It was hard to imagine the strict soldier as anything but stoic and in control.

  “Was there something that made you realize you couldn’t live without her, though? You and Mama had one of the fastest courtships in history. You were even faster than Nik and Lily. Boy proposed after only a few months.”

  “Well, that’s the thing, Dimitri. Kincaid men, we don’t need a long time to know what we want. Sometimes you can over-complicate it, but in the end, we just know.”

  “Papa, that makes no sense. You can’t just know.”

  “It was snowing that night. I was going to be shipping out to Germany the next week. Didn’t know how long I’d be gone. I thought to myself, I should just leave it alone, she’d be better off with someone who she didn’t have to constantly worry about. Someone who would be there every day for her, not a soldier who was gone for months on end sometimes.”