“I’ll need you lying down. Ideally on something like a massage table.”
He grimaces. “Don’t have one of those.”
“I assumed as much. That’s why I brought these.” I reach into my bag and pull out a folded sheet and a small, travel-sized face cradle. “We can make do with whatever flat surface you’ve got.”
Jacob gestures toward his couch. “Would that work?”
I eye the leather sectional critically. “Not really. I need something I can access from all sides.” I glance around the open space. “What about your bedroom?”
His face flushes immediately. “Hell no. Not the bedroom.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smirking. His reaction is oddly endearing for someone who projects such toughness. “All right, then where?”
Jacob runs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ve got a home gym. There’s an adjustable bench in there.”
“That could work. Show me.”
He leads me through a door off the main living area into what must have once been a second bedroom. It’s been converted into a sparse but well-equipped gym. Free weights line one wall, a rowing machine sits in the corner, and various bars andattachments hang from organized wall mounts. One entire wall is mirrored, reflecting our images as we enter.
“This is impressive,” I say, genuinely. The space is as meticulously organized as the rest of his apartment. “If you have all this, why were you training at that gym the night I found you?”
Jacob shrugs, the movement rippling across his shoulder muscles. “I like the variety. And being around people sometimes.”
I don’t point out that he was alone in an empty gym at midnight. Instead, I inspect the adjustable bench in the center of the room. It’s padded, sturdy, and has multiple incline positions. Not ideal, but workable.
“This will do,” I say, setting my bag down. “Let me get it set up.”
I cover the bench with the sheet I’ve brought, attaching the portable face cradle to one end. Jacob watches silently, arms still crossed, like he’s guarding himself.
“Take a seat,” I tell him when I’m done. “I want to check your range of motion first.”
He sits on the edge of the bench, shoulders slightly hunched. I stand in front of him and lift his right arm, watching his face for signs of pain.
“Rotate your shoulder for me. Slowly.”
He complies, and I watch how the muscles move beneath his skin. The mechanics are better than before, but still not perfect. His neck and upper trapezius tighten as he compensates for the weakness.
“See how you’re lifting your shoulder when you rotate?” I place my hand on his upper trap, feeling the tension there. “You’re compensating. Using these muscles to do what your rotator cuff should be handling.”
Jacob nods, eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder.
“Let’s start with that, then.” I adjust the bench to a semi-upright position. “Sit facing the backrest, please. Straddle it like a horse.”
He positions himself as instructed, his broad back now facing me. I open my bag and take out a bottle of massage oil, warming it between my palms before placing my hands on his skin.
“Tell me if anything hurts,” I say, beginning to work along the tight bands of his upper back.
Jacob’s skin is warm beneath my hands, his muscles dense and powerful. I start with gentle pressure, mapping the landscape of tension, finding the knots that need attention. My thumbs work along his spine, pressing outward to release the tight fascia alongside his vertebrae. His breathing deepens as I increase the pressure.
“How does that feel?” I ask quietly. “Not just pain level, but tension. Where do you feel tight?”
Jacob rests his forehead against the backrest, his posture softening. “Good. No pain.” He reaches back with one hand, tapping a spot near his shoulder blade. “Tight here.”
I shift my attention to the spot he’s indicated, applying firm, focused pressure with my fingers. The muscle yields gradually beneath my touch, releasing its hold. Jacob’s breath hitches, then extends into a long exhale.
I work across his upper back, shoulders, and rotator cuff, using varying pressure. His body responds beautifully to my touch, his muscles releasing their secrets as I decode them. The power underneath my hands is intoxicating—this massive, formidable man yielding to me.
A soft sound escapes Jacob’s throat as I find a particularly tight spot. Then another, louder this time. Within minutes, he’s making the same sounds that haunted my dreams after our last session. Deep, throaty groans that vibrate through his back into my fingertips.