Samantha made her way down the long hallway toward the guestroom and was greeted by the muffled sound of Nick groaning in pain and what sounded like the clatter and splash of a cup of water hitting the hardwood floor, followed by him bellowing an expletive.
She tapped on the door before cracking it open. “Nick? Are you okay?”
“Ugghh,” he grunted. “No.”
She slipped into the room and closed the door behind her, pausing to set the papers down on a dresser before assessing his appearance. He looked as if someone had left a furnace on in the bedroom and was breathing as if he’d sprinted up a hill. She stepped around to the opposite side of the bed, retrieved the cup off the floor, and then placed the back of her hand on his forehead.
“It’s not a fever,” he muttered.
“Just making sure. Lean back. I’ll clean this up.”
After mopping up the water and refilling the glass, Samantha turned on the ceiling fan and handed him a damp cloth, which he used to wipe the sweat off his face. She eased into a chair next to the bed and peered at his disgruntled expression, which was slightly hidden behind shaggy hair that was a couple weeks overdue for a trim.
“Talk to me,” she urged, combing his bangs away from his face.
“I can’t take much more of this.”
“Are you in pain?”
“It’s worse than pain,” he grumbled as he began raising his voice and pitched the cloth onto the nightstand. “It’s pain and numbness and claustrophobia and probably actual insanity, and if I have to sit in this bed forfive more sec—-”
“Totally understandable,” she interjected in an attempt to rein him back in. “I’d feel a little crazy too if I was stuck in a bed this long.”
He looked at her through tired, sad green eyes. “I miss the outdoors. It’s getting cold out, and I can’t even go smell the air.”
He flipped an arm in the direction of a window across the room. “And that window sucks. It’s too small to let in a decent breeze.”
She brushed his hair back again and let her palm linger on his cheek.
“I know. I’m sorry. Why don’t you let me help you relax a little? Lean forward a bit,” she said in a soothing tone, taking hold of his hands and pulling him forward so that he was sitting upright, then pushed the pillows aside and climbed onto the bed to sit behind him. She slipped his T-shirt over his head and began firmly rubbing the cloth over his shoulders and back while lightly blowing on his neck in an effort to help him cool down more quickly. The muscles of his back and torso felt like a tight network of ropes so she kneaded with her thumbs and fingertips to ease some of the tension he’d worked himself into.
He abruptly dropped his head forward and let out a satisfied groan.
“A little better?” she asked quietly.
“A lot better.”
“Good.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled them back gently, deciding that a little stretching would help get his blood flowing and improve his mood.
“Sit up straight.” He did as he was told, and she lifted his arms by his wrists, directing him to stretch his arms out straight, all the while pressing his back into her chest.
“Now, deep breaths,” she prompted. After one or two inhales and exhales, she guided him to extend his arms over his head, similar to what she did at the end of her Pilates workouts. “Reach up high and give your spine a nice stretch.”
He chuckled. “Are you my personal trainer now?”
She spoke into his ear. “Yeah so you’d better do what I say, or I’ll make you suffer.”
He laughed. “Hmm, I think I like the sound of that.”
She tittered. “Keep stretching.”
As he reached upward, she let her hands travel down the sides of his waist, her fingers tracing the ridges of his ribs and obliques, and noticed the feeling of his muscles was a bit of a turn on. She stifled a laugh, recalling the conversation with her sister from earlier.
Too bad there’s no way todo itwith that stupid contraption in the way.
Still, she couldn’t help feeling blatantly flirtatious all of a sudden so she continued to skirt her fingertips over the sides of his abs and placed her lips next to his ear again.
“Engage your core,” she whispered.
