Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Tristan smiled. Of course he knew he looked good; he didn’t suffer from false modesty. Tristan glanced at the mirror. Messy brown hair, high cheekbones, flawless warm-colored skin, full lips and blue-green eyes. Yep, he’d totally hit that.
“There’s Jared, though,” Tristan said. “He’s totally the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”
Zach shot him a sharp look before scoffing and getting out of the car. “I said pretty, not handsome.”
“I sense a not-so-subtle insult to my masculinity,” Tristan said, getting out and closing the door.
Zach was already walking toward the house. “Come on, let’s have a look at your groin and see if the swelling is gone.”
A little puzzled by the sudden change of topic, Tristan followed him.
Five minutes later, Tristan found himself in his gym downstairs, sitting on the couch as Zach knelt in front of him and examined his thigh.
It was quiet in the house. Tristan looked at his jeans on the floor. “See, the swelling is gone,” he said. “I told you I was fine to start training.” The swelling really was gone, and the bruising had faded considerably, too. His injury didn’t trouble him as much as it used to—only when he moved too abruptly.
Zach carefully prodded his flesh. He stroked Tristan’s thigh, applying some pressure. “Does it hurt when I do this?”
“Not really.”
The fingers moved to Tristan’s upper thigh and pressed. “Now?”
Tristan shook his head.
“All right,” Zach said. “I’m going to take your briefs off.”
He wasn’t asking. He didn’t need to ask. It was a completely normal thing to do for a physiotherapist.
Tristan watched as Zach laid his hands on his hips. They looked dark against his skin, and Tristan was by no means pale. The hands tugged Tristan’s briefs down his thighs. It was something many other physios had done in the past, and Zach’s touch was no different: professional and impersonal.
But there was nothing professional or impersonal about the way Tristan’s body reacted.
Zach’s hands went still on his thighs, his eyes on Tristan’s half-hard cock.
Tristan wondered if it was possible to die from mortification. He averted his gaze, feeling betrayed by his own stupid body. What was wrong with him?
“I haven’t got laid in months,” he said.
Zach remained silent. His hands resumed moving and quickly removed Tristan’s briefs.
“The skin of my thighs is just very sensitive,” Tristan said.
“You don’t have to be so defensive.”
Tristan barely stopped himself from kicking him. He refrained from doing so only because of his injury: he wouldn’t give Zach another reason to scold him in his oh-so-superior tone. Not that Zach needed a reason.
“I’m not being defensive,” Tristan said. He was pretty proud of how even and calm his voice sounded.
“Of course not,” Zach said, moving his hand up, his fingers less than an inch from Tristan’s cock. He stroked his groin. “Does this hurt?” Before Tristan could shake his head, Zach pressed his finger hard into the muscle.
Tristan sucked a breath in. “Yeah.” Thankfully, the pain dealt with his little problem. He was almost soft again. Almost.
“You’re fit enough to start a gradual rehabilitation program,” Zach said, to Tristan’s surprise. “Stretching and strengthening exercises. We’ll start with gentle static stretches. Remember that stretching exercises should be pain free. If it hurts, you’ll stop. We’ll move to more dynamic exercises when you’re ready. Same with strengthening exercises—we’ll increase the load through the muscles gradually.”
“When?”
The gray eyes looked at him steadily. “The key word is gradually.”
“But—”
“It’s not up for a debate. Yes, Jared told me you wanted to return as soon as possible, but you’ll be back when you’re ready, and not a minute sooner.” Zach smiled a little. “And quit giving me that look. You look ridiculous.”
“What look?”
“The puppy-dog-eyes look. It doesn’t work on me. I have five younger siblings. I’m immune to that shit.”
“I’m not giving you puppy-dog-eyes,” Tristan said distractedly, acutely aware of Zach’s hands on his thighs. They were so big. It was a bit of a weakness of his. He liked men with strong and capable hands. And this prick’s hands were perfect. They made him think of sex.
“Is it really necessary for you to keep your hands on my thighs?” Tristan said, a little sharper than he had intended.
Zach looked down, as if only now realizing where his hands were. Tristan had hoped to make him uncomfortable, but Zach didn’t look flustered at all. “I don’t know,” he said, his gaze shifting to Tristan’s cock—which was half-hard again. “You seem to like it a great deal.”
Tristan’s face grew warm. “You smug, conceited— I told you my thighs were very sensitive.”
“Too bad for you, then,” Zach said. “Now that the swelling is gone, I’m going to massage them every day, especially after your exercises. Speaking of exercises...” Zach pulled Tristan’s briefs up and got to his feet. “We’ll start with very gentle stretching. Short adductor stretch, long adductor stretch and hip flexors.”