I grab my shit and follow him.
I look around, but Ruby is nowhere to be seen. I get to my truck and pull up my app. She’s still in the building. Well, her phone is. Either she left it, or she got scared and wasn’t going back in there. Not till I left.
No idea why, but that makes me smile as I start the engine and head home. After all, I’ve got some stretches to practice. And some Google searches to run on how to prevent what just happened. Because while I don’t give a shitabout getting a boner, I’d rather not have one if it lets me see Ruby longer.
It’s gotten easier over the past few weeks. Still get a boner, but I’ve willed it down to a solid chub most of the time. It helps when I close my eyes and just picture Law dying. It’s morbid and fucked up and just what I need.
We don’t talk about that first session. I don’t bring it up, and neither does Ruby. But she does blush. Not that I call her out on it, but I do smile. And she glares when she sees my smile. It’s there, but it’s unspoken.
My hip and shoulder are doing better. I’ve never believed in all this doctor mumbo jumbo before. Not that I was against modern medicine, but I never saw stretching to be anything more than what you do to limber up for a run. Like a marathon run. Not that I ever did one. Hence the no-stretching thing.
But I guess I’m a walking billboard advocating it now. Well, I’m not saying shit, but the brothers know I come here. I can’t hide it. And they know who’s working on me. They think it’s just my way of keeping an eye on her.
And it is. And it ain’t, all at once.
Duke is still out there. That’s the intel C8 gave us. He might be hunkered down with his club, the Devils Damned, but he’s still out there. He could have friends willing to make enemies with the Hounds. Half the reason we said Law was dead and hid it from her that actually he’s in a coma is because we know enemies like to prey on the weak. If it gotout that he’s just sleeping till who the fuck knows when, more attempts would be made on his life, and hers.
By lying to her, we’re keeping her safe. And with me doing weekly check-ins, as far as the club knows, I’m watching the shadows. Looking for anyone who thinks it’s a good idea to finish what Duke started a while back. Every brother with a family is doing the same. Even though, for all Ruby knows, she has no family, the club still considers her one of our own.
After the shit that went down with Abigail, we realized we’d fucked up. We let someone get close, but not close enough to protect. We don’t want Ruby to fall into the same things Abigail did. We know she’d never turn on us, never betray the club in that way; there’s too much club blood in her to even try. But her being outcast by townies and us? Yeah, we aren’t going to let that happen.
I’mnot going to let it happen.
“How’s that new stretch I showed you last week working out for you?” she asks as she does the basic movements for my arm before moving to my hip. We do it this way each time. I might not need the extra stretch in my shoulder, but with the dislocation a while back and then the torn ligament, I’m not against making sure it’s all in working order. We all know shit ain’t going to get easier for me. I need to be in top shape at all times with how the club works.
“It’s fine.”
She has me doing the fucking butterfly. Something I hate saying, but I’ve gotten used to doing. It sucks, but every day I get my legs lower. She focuses on my hip, but last week she started adding in other stretches to work the entire lower region. I want to start lifting again, and she’s willing to helpme get back into it. It’s been weeks, almost the entire time Casper and Billy were in Michigan for a job, that I’ve kept my workouts to just a few small reps. I feel as if I’ve lost some muscle mass already, and it’s only been a little while. I don’t like it and want to get back to it.
General still bitches that it’s too soon, whereas Ruby knows she can’t control me but just make suggestions. Hers is that I go slow and do more stretches in other areas since it’s been a while. I hate to break it to her that even if it was a year, and I was stuck in bed, I’d never go easy in my life. I wouldn’t do the stretches either, but I know she monitors my progress and can tell when I don’t do them, and she gives me hell.
Did that the first week. She said to either do the homework or stop wasting her time and find someone else to work on my hip. Not sure if that’s a tactic they teach at her school or not, but I’m all for that type of bedside manner. Tell it to me straight. Do it or don’t. But if the results are either staying with her or not? We all know what I’m choosing.
“Show me.” I sit cross-legged and grab my toes as I push my elbows down on my knees. Slow. She likes it when I go slow.
We moved off the table a week back and do most of the shit on the floor now. She prefers it if I do most of the stretching on my own, and she only guides me here and there. Less touching for her, I think. But I still get a chub just being close to her. Smelling her. Seeing her.
She leans forward and pushes down a bit. We hold the position, and I do what I always do when she does this. When she gets close, she just focuses on the stretch, while I look at her. I memorize everything about her in thosemoments. I can do it a hundred times a day. I file the memory away for when I’m not here and I want to be.
She’s gotten braver lately, holding my stare for a few seconds at the end each time. Till she looks away and we switch to another move.
Twenty more minutes on the floor, and now we’re up. She wants to do a balance test with me today, so I stand on a rubber bubble with one foot bent, and her hands rest on my hips from behind. I look back to see her kneeling down to check my hips, and I tighten up. Having her below me while I’m standing is one thing I can’t ever get over.
I close my eyes and will my dick to deflate. But it doesn’t, and I lose my balance.
“Whoa, I got you.” She grabs my hips as she stands quickly.
She’s shorter than me, coming up just over my shoulder.
“You good?” she asks.
I look back and down at her and nod. Just once. Her eyes aren’t on mine, though, but on my lips.
I don’t look away as she watches me. I just bask in this. In this weak spot for her, because I know she likes to pretend I don’t have any influence on her. Maybe I didn’t when I started the job. Maybe not even after her dad died. But recently? After she can tell I’m turned the fuck on with her hands on me two to three times a week? She can’t deny how I feel. She can chalk it up to just a momentary thing. To me being a horndog or whatever. But it’s not true. If another woman touched me like she does, I wouldn’t be so hard allthe time. I wouldn’t be seeking relief after each session in the shower like I do now.
I especially wouldn’t be mad the second she turns and starts to walk away.
“Right, I think—”
