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 aboveandbelow 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.
