Page 38 of Revive Me

I don’t know how high on the leg she plans to go, but if she goes any higher, her hands are going to have an effect. And it’s not an effect that either of us is ready for.

It’s no secret that spinal cord injuries, even in the most minor of cases, affect sexual function. My injury affected everything below my hips, so obviously my dick is included in that picture. And even though I’ve been able to get somewhat reacquainted with it—and gain an understanding, if not always control, of it—in the two years since the accident, it’s still an entirely unpredictable area of my lower body.

I have no idea what might happen when a hot woman is touching my leg.

I don’t realize I’m holding my breath with anticipation until Lily stops her massage and straightens.

“Okay, that’s enough procrastinating. Let’s get you started on some strength exercises.”

13

LILIANA

When I walk into the clinic a few days later, I’m surprised to be pulled into my boss’s office.

“So,” Fran starts, taking a seat and gesturing for me to do the same. “How’s the therapy going with Roman?”

Thank God, I don’t blush easily because my first reaction to her question is sheer panic. Which is stupid because I haven’t done anything to be panickedabout.

“Good,” I squeak out. I clear my throat and try again. “I mean, slow, but good. Why?”

Fran waves me off. “No reason. He’s just a high-profile client—and a tough one, at that. This is more so me checking on you.”

I frown, not liking that label for Roman. “He’s nottough, he’s just…” I search for the right word. “He can’t find the right reason,” I say after a moment.

Fran cocks her head, studying me. “What do you mean by that?”

I release a heavy breath. “I mean, a lot of our patients are just trying to rehab an injury. So their end goals are obvious. And the athletes…even if they won’tprogresstheir career, their goal is to get back to playing. At whatever capacity. But Roman… He’ll never fight again. It might be a miracle if he evenwalksagain. And…” I swallow roughly as I meet Fran’s eyes, and I wonder if she can see the pain in my heart. “I think he thinks he’s useless without those things.”

Fran hums thoughtfully as she mulls over my assessment. “His file said he wasn’t seeing a psychologist when he was admitted here. Do you know if he’s started talking to someone since you started treatment?”

I shake my head, too nervous to admit that I thinkImight be the closest thing Roman has to a therapist.

“See if you can nudge him to see someone, if he isn’t already,” Fran says. “I’d be surprised if he wasn’t, but you never know. If what you’re saying is true, he, of all people, needs to be talking to someone.” She glances at her watch. “Beyond that, how’s the physical therapy going? Is he improving?”

I debate how to answer before saying honestly, “Slowly, but yes. Since he’s seen so many therapists, I started a lot of things from scratch. But…yes, he’s making progress.”

Fran gives me a pleased nod. “Good. I had a feeling I made the right call putting him with you, but I’m glad to hear his progress is proving it. And he’s been treating you okay? You know I won’t tolerate him being disrespectful.”

A memory of one of Roman’s daily glares flashes through my thoughts. “He’s been the perfect student.”

Another nod at that. “Good. If that changes, just let me know. Say the word, and I’ll transfer him to someone else.”

I force down the flame of possessiveness that flickers through my chest at the thought. “Thank you, but I don’t think that will be necessary,” I say with a forced smile.

“Alright then,” Fran says, standing from her chair and opening the office door for me. “Keep up the good work, Lily.”

When I leave her office and head downstairs for my appointment with Roman, my heart is still beating powerfully. I knew I had grown protective of Roman when he first started to let me in, and I knew I enjoyed his company even before that, but feeling the full weight of my emotions for him when confronted by it is a whole different story. I didn’t realize how much I’ve started to care for him.

And as I walk into the gym to find Roman shirtless and sweaty, the kind of feelings I’m developing become that much harder to ignore.

My mouth immediately goes dry at the sight before me. Roman is still sitting in his wheelchair, but right now, he’s using it as an exercise weight instead of a mobility tool. Because he’s currently strapped in and working on pull-ups at the pull-up bar.

I watch in slack-jawed amazement as he pulls himself up once, twice,fivetimes just in the time I’m standing here. His skin glistens with sweat, the shine making his muscles the only thing I can look at. Even the chain around his neck, the one I’ve been curious about ever since I realized Roman hides it under his shirts, isn’t enough to pull my attention away.

I knew wheelchair users often have impressive upper body muscles from having to push themselves around all day, but I never could have pictured Roman’s back and arms, even in my wildest fantasies. He’sshredded. I don’t know if he just has a naturally muscular build, or if he actually works them out, but either way, this vision of Roman is something that is going to stick with me for a long,longtime.

When he finally maxes out his reps and instead hangs on the bar in a hold, I realize I need to make my presence known. I have to swallow twice—twice—before I can get my voice to work. “W-what are you doing?”

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