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‘You’re losing your touch, obviously. This is a one-woman show to which you’re not invited.’ She fervently prayed he’d take the hint and leave.
He didn’t. With slow, assured strides, he came forward until he stood directly over her. From her position on the floor, Reiko was treated to the simply magnificent landscape of his body—strong legs, trim waist, ripped ridges on his abdomen that rose and curved into a wide, powerful chest … the bulge in his trousers she tried very hard not to stare at despite the blood rushing faster through her veins.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
‘What does it look like? I’m exercising.’
‘You’re in pain. Why?’
‘Go away, Damion.’
‘If you wanted to keep what you were doing a secret, you would’ve stayed in your room.’
She blew out an exasperated breath. ‘Trust me, I would have if I’d known you’d subject me to another interrogation. It’s wearing seriously thin, by the way.’
He merely shrugged and waited.
Her gaze slid away from his. ‘I have a back and pelvic injury from the accident. I was on my feet for too long today and forgot to stretch before bed.’
‘You woke in pain?’
She heard the frown in his tone.
She nodded. ‘The pain increases when my body stiffens.’
He dropped smoothly onto his haunches, caught her chin in his hand and turned her gaze to his. ‘How can I help?’
‘You can go away and leave me alone to get on with it.’
The implacable look in his eyes told him he would be doing no such thing.
She sig
hed. ‘Damion—’
‘We’ve performed this dance before, ma belle. Tell me how to help you.’
Sighing, she collapsed back onto the mat. ‘I told you, I don’t need—’
He leaned over and placed his hands on either side of her hips. Her breath snagged in her chest as he reared over her. Glossy chocolate waves fell over his forehead as his eyes bored determinedly into hers. Damion Fortier was going nowhere—of that she had no doubt.
Her only option was to get this over with as quickly as possible. Having him this close bombarded her with haunting, painful memories.
She sucked in a quick, woefully inadequate breath. ‘Hold my feet against your chest and push against my resistance. No matter how much I whine, don’t stop. Okay?’
Concern darkened his eyes. ‘This whining—will it take the form of tears or screams?’
‘Either. Both. If you’re squeamish, leave now.’
‘I’m not squeamish,’ he answered, although a look of unease had settled over his face.
He positioned himself on his knees and glanced at her bare legs. For endless moments he just stared at them.
‘Come on, Baron, don’t wuss out on me. Unless you can conjure a thermal jet pool for me, this is the only way—so let’s get on with it.’
His lips firmed. ‘Raise your legs.’
She carefully raised them. With firm, strong hands he grabbed her ankles and settled her feet on his chest.
