Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
There’s no one in Room 4 when I get there, so I tidy up a bit and make sure all the equipment is set out. Then right on the dot, a knock sounds.
“Miss Marsh?” our receptionist calls. “Mr. Simpson is here for you.”
“Come on in,” I call.
The door opens, and Latonya waves.
“Here you are. Mr. Simpson, this is Rachel Marsh, your physical therapist. Rach, meet Will Simpson. You all have a good day now.”
The patient steps in as the door closes, and he’s actually quite handsome with rakish brown hair and bright blue eyes. He’s in his late twenties and only of a middling height, but in great shape with a muscular build and a friendly, open smile. But something’s lacking. After all, my patient is cute and charming, but he’s not Damon Nash.
“Ms. Marsh,” Will says, giving me a mega-watt grin. “Nice to meet you.”
I keep my expression polite and shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Simpson. Call me Rachel, please.”
Is it my imagination, or did he grasp my hand a tad longer than he needed to? But I merely smile professionally again.
“Okay, Mr. Simpson,” I say. “I know you have a shoulder injury, so I’m going to do a bit of massaging to try and work out the tension in those muscles. Does that sound good?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
With that, he whips off his t-shirt, showing off corrugated abs and a broad, tanned chest. If I weren’t with Damon, I’d be appreciative, but instead I merely smile politely.
“Great, lie down please. Face down, if you don’t mind.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a sharp salute before winking at me. I sigh internally. Don’t feel annoyed, I counsel myself. Just focus on the work. You’re here to make him healthier.
Will follows my directions, fitting into the ergonomic design of the massage table. Then, I place my hands on his back and gently prod his muscles to find the location of the injury. “So, tell me,” I say, partly to fill the silence in the room. “How did you hurt yourself?”
“Skiing accident,” he says in a slightly muffled voice. “My buddy’s bachelor party was up at Breckenridge.”
“In Colorado?” I ask politely.
“That’s right.”
“I imagine that must’ve been a lot of fun. Before the injury, I mean. I’ve never been to Colorado myself.”
“Maybe I’ll take you up there some time. I bet you’d look killer in one of those tight ski suits.”
Again, I force myself to stay professional. Letting out a small laugh, I merely ignore the comment and apply a bit more pressure to his back, making him hiss in pain. “Sorry about that,” I apologize. “I’ll try to be a bit gentler.”
“Don’t worry about me, babe. You can be as rough as you want—”
But I cut him off. “You know, I forgot to turn on the music,” I say and head to the radio that’s built into the wall. Quickly, I flip on a country rock station, and Bonnie Raitt immediately begin blasting through the speakers. I fiddle with the controls, adjusting the volume until the music is a tolerable level – just loud enough to fill the room, but also quiet enough so you don’t have to talk. To be honest, I’d prefer to put a lid on any potential conversation with my flirty patient today.
Once the music is set, I turn back to Mr. Simpson, but he’s no longer lying on the massage table. Instead, Will is standing right behind me with a big grin on his face. I jump back in shock.
“Hey,” I stammer. “Why did you get up? Do you need to use the restroom?”
But his smile is lascivious as he edges into my personal space.
“No, it’s not that. This song just put me in the mood, that’s all.” Then he stalks closer, backing me up to the wall. I can’t believe this is happening. We’re literally in a hospital setting with sick people everywhere. Yet a patient is coming on to me?
But sure enough, Will comes closer, his muscular form blotting out the rest of the room.
“You’re real pretty, you know?” he breathes as one hand reaches for my breast. “These scrubs do nothing for you.”
“Don’t,” I stammer, but he ignores me. He takes my breast in his hand and fondles the large orb, squeezing hard and making me squeal in pain. Oh god, oh god, oh god, is this really happening? This can’t be my life. This must just be a bad dream. I press my eyes shut and turn my face away to the cold wall. My body goes numb as my mind drifts away. It retreats somewhere deep inside of myself to keep me safe.
Then, to my horror, Will smashes his body to mine and I hear him undo his pants. Distantly, I hear myself plead with him to stop, but he’s so much bigger than me. I try to shove him away, but now naked, my patient easily overpowers me with a hand over my mouth, while using his frame to pin me to the wall. Nonononono! No please!