Yes, Master, page 19
A hard run like the one she’d recently completed left her slightly weakened, but the condition didn’t last. She’d pretty much recovered while talking to Jeff, so why did she now feel as if she couldn’t punch her way out of a paper bag? Not only that, she remained surprisingly aware of herself as a woman.
“You aren’t answering me.” He drew her back against him so his erection ground into her. “Is that because you don’t know how to handle the loss of control?”
If his being aroused embarrassed him, he wouldn’t have let her experience his condition, right? Maybe—hell, maybe he was playing some kind of power game, but why should he?
“I don’t get the point.” For the first time in ages, she was in a man’s arms. Trying to make sense of how it made her feel. Asking herself where her fragmented thoughts about having been captured and enjoying it had come from.
“You want to get back on the track. You’d love it if I challenged you to a run so you could let the inner racehorse loose. However, those things aren’t going to happen right now.” He tightened his hold. “What point do you think I’m making?”
“I don’t know.”
“Here’s a hint. I’m asking you to consider something other than pushing yourself twenty-four/seven.” He spread his fingers over her belly. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he tried to go lower. Let him?
“You can’t be asking me to change what I am.”
“No. Not change. Better understand. For now, how about you conceding that I’m in control? I design a plan of action or inaction. You follow it.”
“What makes you think I’d—”
“This is an experiment based on the vibes you’re giving off, vibes you aren’t aware of, yet. If you do what I tell you to, I’d be happy to look at your training techniques and give suggestions. That seem like a fair enough trade?”
She stiffened. “What is it you want me to do?”
“It’s really quite simple. For starters, I want you to embrace a relaxation technique by getting a specialized massage.”
“What do you mean by specialized?”
His chuckle reverberated throughout her, softened her even more. “I can promise it won’t stress you in any way. Quite the contrary, you’ll come out of it more relaxed than you believe it’s possible to be.”
Other members of the track team were starting to take notice of the way Jeff was holding her. Feeling a little foolish but still not inclined to move away, she looked down. The arm against her collarbone was a blur, but she clearly saw the one over her middle. Dark, wavy hair shaded his sun-bronzed forearm. His warmth and strength had already slipped past her skin and was entering her bloodstream.
“Will you do that, Runa? Give up control for a little while.”
“Yes,” she muttered before she could stop herself. “Yes.”
“Good.” He leaned over her and touched his lips to the back of her head.
2
“Well, what do you know,” Ken Paro said in response to the male voice on his cell phone. “You’re the last person I expected to hear from today. I thought you were tied up doing—what the hell did you say you were doing?”
“Returning to our alma mater and talking to some members of the track team.”
“That’s right.” Ken looked around at the treatment room he’d moved into about a month ago. He still liked the subtle browns, rusts, and cream colors the designer had suggested. He’d personally selected the various equipment, such as the pulleys, exercise bikes, treadmills, and gravity tables, and had designed the layout. The three section hi-lo treatment table was his favorite because he could adjust it depending on the patient’s size and needs. “Did you get as pissed as I did that time the football coach tried to recruit me as a trainer? I could do whatever I wanted as long as it met with his approval.”
“No.” Jeff sounded a little wistful. “The whole time I was there I kept thinking how much fun I had just running before the pressure started.”
“Pressure’s pressure. It turned out pretty well for you.”
“For you too.”
Jeff was right about that. Ken had parlayed his big, hard-as-nails physique, speed, and aggressive nature into a pro football career that had lasted until he’d broken his collarbone. By the time he was cleared to play again, he’d been replaced and no other team wanted him. Fortunately, after feeling sorry for himself for too long, he’d turned his interest in the human body into a second career as a physical therapist specializing in sports recovery.
“The coeds look as good as they ever did,” Jeff said, “but they’re a lot younger than they used to be.”
“We’re getting older, that’s why. Are they too young for us?”
“Anyone under twenty-one, yes, but there are a lot of grad students.”
As he called up mental images of the campus, Ken walked over to the one-way picture window that looked out at the other medical offices within walking distance of the hospital. The buildings had a cookie-cutter appearance fortunately softened via elaborate landscaping. As a result the area looked more like a park than what it was. He’d insisted on the one-way glass because he didn’t want his patients’ first view of his business to be of intimidating equipment. Besides, this way his patients also didn’t have to worry about being seen from the street or sidewalk.
Thanks to the investments he’d made during his playing days, he didn’t have to work a forty-hour week. That gave him time to indulge in what he called his side interest, something none of his fellow health-care neighbors knew anything about, but Jeff did.
“I’m thinking of becoming a track coach,” Jeff said, interrupting his thoughts.
“What for? Haven’t you gotten rich from all those endorsements you’ve been doing?”
“That’s working out pretty well, but it doesn’t fill all the hours.”
“Are you saying you want to get into my hobby?”
“Don’t tempt me. I’m serious, sometimes I feel at loose ends.”
“Hey, they don’t call you an overachiever for nothing. You’ll figure it out.”
“Speaking of overachievers, I met one today.”
Ken stopped pacing. Something told him they were about to get to the reason for Jeff’s call. “Go on.”
“She’s built like an antelope but acts like a pit bull.”
Jeff expanded on his description of Runa Mullan and what made her tick. By the time he was done, Ken was smiling and had a hard-on. He loved a challenge, especially this kind. “I can see her Friday. You’re sure she’ll come?”
“She will. Otherwise I won’t help her.”
“Got her between a rock and a hard place, do you?”
“She thinks that now. I’m trusting you to change her mind. In the long run it’ll work out to her benefit.”
“The more barriers I have to break down, the better I like it.”
The two men talked a little longer, mostly making plans to attend a pro basketball game together. Afterward, Ken started pacing again. More frequently than he liked to think about, he wondered if he’d made the right choice by placing his business here. The rent had been more than agreeable, but he’d prefer to be closer to the university, which was where a large percentage of his business came from.
Catching his reflection in the window, he stopped and struck a weight-lifting pose that threatened to rip the seams on his shirt. Business was great, he liked being independent, and occasionally he got a call like the one from Jeff that made him look forward to Friday.
Unless she turned tail and ran, Runa Mullan’s understanding of who she was would soon radically change.
What she thought of as a medical center was on the opposite side of the city from the university. As she jockeyed into a parking space, Runa felt as if she were in a different world. She liked getting away from the campus, she just seldom had the time. Although she’d been disappointed because she hadn’t heard from Jeff, she was glad the former Olympian wasn’t around to watch her gnaw on her lower lip.
Why the hell was she nervous, and if what she felt wasn’t nerves, what was it?
It was all Jeff Tappe’s fault, she decided as she took in the dead end street flanked by oversized flowerpots and shaded by trees. He’d had no right grabbing her the way he had. Okay, so she’d loved being pressed against that particular male body, but it was hardly the way to start a coach-athlete relationship. He was older than her. He should have known better.
I didn’t see you putting up a fight.
She needed to get laid. Then she’d have things back in perspective.
When she called the physical therapist to schedule the appointment she’d been backed into, she’d been caught off guard by the man’s deep, deep voice. If Ken Paro was as masculine as he sounded, well, she’d have her work cut out for her not sexually responding to him.
He’d be touching her. Massaging her muscles and talking about relaxation techniques while—while what? She wouldn’t crawl all over him. Being sexually aggressive had never been her mode of operation. In fact, most of the time she didn’t have much of a libido. Between running miles every day and taking a full class load, there wasn’t much else left of her.
Maybe she could learn to relax a little, she told herself as she wrapped her fingers around the doorknob. As long as she didn’t lose her athletic or academic edges, it shouldn’t hurt. The business had what she assumed was a large window, but she couldn’t see in. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
As the door opened, she relaxed a little. Thank goodness this Ken Paro guy didn’t do the mood thing with elevator music, incense, and candles. The air smelled of leather, rubber, muscle rubs, and a little sweat.
The main room was good-sized. A fancy blue treatment table with a multitude of levers and supports was along one side, while familiar exercise and recovery equipment took up much of the rest of the space. A closed door was across from where she stood. Suddenly nervous, she jammed her hands in her slacks’ back pockets. She’d left campus right after a political psychology class, so she wasn’t in one of her running outfits. Having her legs and upper arms covered should have helped her confidence level, the operant word being should.
Darn it, she was confident when she was in her world. Unfortunately, this was something else.
“Anyone here?” she called out, then winced because Ken Paro wouldn’t have left his front door unlocked and walked away. To heck with him. No way would she let him know she was impatient, even if she was. Darn it, she had three chapters to read and a five-page paper to write on politics and the environment before she went to bed.
The door she’d been trying not to stare at opened, and one of the larger men in the Western hemisphere filled the space. She’d seen her share of football players so she knew the breed, but this guy put college jocks to shame.
“Runa Mullan,” he said in the bass drum tone she’d heard over the phone. “Sorry. I was placing an order.” He killed the space between them with a few long strides and held out his right hand. “I don’t know if Jeff told you, but he and I went to college together. We were both gym rats.”
This monster-sized man was more than that as witnessed by how completely his fingers swallowed her hand. She didn’t often come across men so much taller than her, men who made her feel slight and feminine.
“No,” she said when she’d found her voice and retrieved her hand, “he didn’t say anything about that. I take it you weren’t on the tennis team.”
“Football.”
Of course. In addition to shoulders that looked capable of lifting a building off its foundation, his chest called for specially made shirts. He carried more meat on his bones than Jeff did, but he wasn’t fat. “Pros?” she belatedly came up with.
“For four years, which isn’t bad in that line of work.”
Maybe he was trying to put her at ease by making light of his professional sports career, but she knew how rare his achievement was. Surely he’d understand her determination to succeed at running.
“Did Jeff tell you he’s practically blackmailing me?”
“He said something to that effect.” Jeff often smiled when talking. In contrast, Ken Paro lifted the corners of his mouth while his eyes remained neutral. Even with other businesses all around, she felt isolated. Trapped with this powerful and potent man.
Oh yes, potent. Everything the word sexy signified and then some. Moisture dampened her panties.
“So, ah,” she stumbled, “what is it we’re going to do?”
“Many things. First, you’re going to lie there”—he jerked his close-cropped head at the table—“while I work some tension out of you.”
Your hands all over me. Touching my flesh.
“Just like that? I thought you’d want to start with a physical exam.” Did I just say that?
“I’ll watch you walk and execute a few moves, but this isn’t going to be a regular session.”
“Oh?” She was getting used to his size, but the way he commandeered the room not so much. “What do you mean by regular?”
His gaze intensified. “Usually I get a doctor’s report with a new patient. We work on a specific issue or injury.”
“And the only thing that’s wrong with me, at least as far as Jeff Tappe is concerned, is that I don’t know how to stop and smell the roses.”
“Did Jeff mention I specialize in athletes?”
“If he did I don’t remember.” The thought of those pancake-sized hands on her had her tempted to cut and run, but she always faced a challenge and would now. Only was Ken Paro a challenge? She didn’t know but wanted to find out.
“Two things ninety-nine percent of athletes have in common is a certain pride or perhaps arrogance about their bodies, plus the fear of losing what means so much to them.”
She couldn’t argue with that because she’d seen it among the school’s other jocks. However, she’d never admitted her private concerns that an injury could spell the end to her goals.
“No comment?” Ken tilted his head to the side. “Maybe you think what I just said doesn’t pertain to you.”
“I’m trying to figure out where this conversation is headed.” She glanced at the wall clock. “Our appointment is for an hour.”
“And your days are planned down to the minute.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Jeff said you’d be like that. All right, I want to watch you walk across the room and back. Keep your stride natural.”
She did as he’d ordered. If her smooth stride impressed him, he gave no sign. He also didn’t comment when she stood on one foot followed by the other, bent at the waist, and squatted low without losing her balance. Any moment he’d tell her she was in perfect physical condition and he had no idea what she was doing here.
Not that she wanted to leave.
“Tell me how you feel about what just happened. Does it seem like a waste of time?”
Surely he was waiting for her to agree, but the truth was, knowing he’d watched her every move had kicked up her awareness of herself as a woman.
Maybe he saw more than a jock. Maybe he’d found something she didn’t know existed in her.
“I did what you told me to,” she said. “I didn’t think about motive.” She’d stopped with maybe ten feet between them and his steady gaze slicing through her clothes. The room was so silent she swore she heard her heart beating.
“You wouldn’t rather be on the track or hitting the books?”
She gave herself a mental shake trying to distance herself from the have-to list, but he was right. There was always something to do.
“Are you giving me my choice? Running always trumps homework.”
“You’ll get back to that soon enough, Runa. Right now I want you to get on the table and stretch out on your back.”
He was going to touch her, run those potent fingers over—over what part of her anatomy?
“Wait a minute,” she said. “Did you see something while I was doing my little dance? Some muscle that needs tweaking?”
“Your muscles are perfect.”
“Then—”
“Just do it. You’ll understand.”
Feeling more alive than since the last time she’d been at a track meet, she did as he requested—or had it been an order? No way could she forget that his strength made a mockery of hers. The man exuded power. Sexual power.
Lying with her body in a straight line, her arms at her sides, her feet toeing out, and only the ceiling to look at made her feel incredibly vulnerable. Sensing his presence only a few inches away, she turned her head toward him.
Damn, but he was big. Looming over her.
In charge.
“According to Jeff, you have one speed, full-out.” He moved behind her so she had to arch her neck to look back at him. He held up his hands so she could study them. “To state the obvious, these are my primary tools.”
His hands disappeared. A second later she felt them on the sides of her neck. “A lot of people have neck problems. Whoever designed humans to walk upright made a mistake because it puts stress on the spine.”
Ken’s fingers were gentler than she thought they’d be. As he lightly pressed against her tendons, she let out a long breath. Refilling her lungs didn’t seem particularly important.
“From what you’ve told me,” he said, “it’s highly unlikely you have time for regular massages, but by the time I’m done with you, you may want to reassess your have-to list. Give pleasure priority.”
3
Pleasure. She was already relaxing. All except for one area of her body. Hoping he couldn’t see what she was doing, she tightened her pelvic muscles. That did nothing to ease her sexual awareness.
“I used to be like you.” He ran his fingers behind her ears and into her hair, pressing here and there as he did. “Maybe I was even more single-minded because football was the only thing that mattered. I didn’t give a damn about my classes. I reached the pinnacle, stood on the top of the mountain, and told myself I’d spend the rest of my life there. Then I got hurt.”
