Chapter Four

Skye carried her bag to the front door of Dio's house. On the phone, he'd told her to walk right in when she arrived. That alone worried her. If he couldn't get off the bed, how bad had he hurt himself?

She opened the door and stepped inside. His home was as familiar as her parents' house. She'd spent many hours here over the years, sometimes when she came with her dad and other times when her parents were busy, and she hung out with Dio.

A three bedroom cottage with salt seasoned gray shingles with white shutters on each window welcomed her inside each time she visited. Inside, the furnishings were simple, manly, but homey. There was never anything she couldn't touch. No furniture she couldn't put her feet on. She was always free to investigate his fridge and help herself to whatever she wanted—except his beer.

"Dio? It's me." She walked toward the hallway. "Where are you?"

"Back here." Dio groaned. "Bedroom."

She hurried to the room and dropped her bag beside the bed. Dio was on his back, bare feet on the bed and knees in the air. At least he'd gotten into a position that would put less stress on his lumbar spine.

"How much pain are you in?" she asked.

"If I don't move, not much." He pointed across the room. "Can you get me my pack of smokes? They're in the pocket of my vest."

"You're not going outside to smoke in your condition."

He exhaled heavily. "Can you make me better?"

"Explain how you hurt yourself."

"I was getting off my Harley. My leg gave way, and my back felt weak. It still feels weak."

"Is the pain only in your back?"

"My back doesn't hurt that bad. It feels weak, but a pain goes down my thigh when I try to move." He shifted on the bed and groaned. "Damn. It's like a fucking electrical jolt shooting down my leg."

"Okay, I'm going to try a couple of things to see if we can get you some relief." She crawled up on the bed beside him, being careful not to move the mattress and cause him any more pain. "Believe it or not, riding a motorcycle isn't good for the health of your back. I tell my dad the same thing."

He looked at her. "What's your point?"

"My point is if you continue to ride, you'll probably be plagued with lower back pain." She put her hand on his knee. "I'm going to help you lift this leg. When I do, I'm going to put your ankle on your other upturned knee. We're going to make the number four with your legs." She drew out the number on his limbs. "Don't tense up. Try to keep yourself relaxed."

As much as he tried, he kept tightening his back when she lifted his leg. She stuck out her lower lip, hating to see him in pain.

"I know." She met his gaze as she manipulated his leg. "You're going to have to trust me that soon, you'll feel better."

The second she crossed his legs and hooked his foot above his other knee, his muscles loosened without any coaxing on his part.

"What's going on?" He raised his head. "Why does that help?"

"Don't move." She put her hand on his stomach. "I'm taking pressure off your sciatica nerve. In thirty seconds, we'll uncross your legs and put your foot back on the mattress. Make sure you don't stretch your leg out and undo what I'm doing."

"Let's leave it there." He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. "This is good."

She laughed softly. "Don't worry. We're going to do this several times. With this exercise, we're flossing the compressed nerve between a narrow opening, desensitizing it. Eventually, the inflammation will go down and move smoothly in all the tight spaces in your spinal column."

She put his foot down and watched his breathing. He still held his breath when she moved him.

"Let's do it again." She helped him get into position.

He worked with her in silence. After each set, his hip became looser. He wasn't holding himself stiff anymore, and most importantly, he was breathing.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better. Not as weak." He propped himself up on his elbows. "Never had it feel like my back was going to break in two before."

"Don't move." She put his foot down on the bed. "If you quit now, it'll return to how it was earlier." She slowly crawled off the bed. "I'll massage your lumbar and see if we can further get the pressure off your nerve. Have you ever gone to the chiropractor?"

He grunted. "I've never hurt my back before."

"Well, it might be something to think about if this happens again." She wasn't going to worry him about herniated discs, permanent numbness, and numerous other things that were harder to fix.

She wasn't a doctor or a chiropractor. But in the last year of her training to become a physical therapist, she learned that many sciatica problems originated in the spinal cord, even though the symptoms radiated down the leg and even the foot.

A massage would temporarily make him more comfortable, which he needed tonight. If he was lucky, he'd feel better in a week and be able to go back to riding.

"I have my table in the car but moving you from the bed to the table would hurt your back more." She moved closer and stood at the side of him. "I'm going to help you roll over until you're on your stomach."

"I can do it."

"Probably, but I want you to remain relaxed. Don't tense up and undo the progress I've made, okay?" She glanced at his lower half. "Can you unbuckle your belt and undo your jeans? That way I can pull them down to work on your lower back."

She moved away and picked up her bag, using the time he got ready for her to find the lotion she would need. Her hands shook. While she tried to remain professional, she couldn't ignore that it was Dio she'd be touching.

How many times had she dreamed about putting her hands on him?

Not once had she been nervous about touching a client. The people who hired her needed her help, and she had a job to do.

But Dio wasn't a client.

She dreamt about being with him, and now she would have her hands on his body. Giving him a massage was never one of her fantasies until now.

Without looking—okay, she looked. He wore black boxers that hugged his ass. She stepped to the bed, put the bottle on the mattress in front of her, and guided him on the easiest way to roll over. The only problem she hadn't foreseen was that she'd moved him to the middle of the bed. If she had him on her portable table, she could freely move around him. On the bed, it made it more difficult.

"I'm going to have to get on the bed again." She climbed up beside him. "I'll try not to make the bed move too much."

He grunted.

She eyed his bare back. The Havlin Motorcycle Club tattoo took up most of the surface. That wasn't a surprise to her. She'd seen all his tattoos at one time or another. Plus, he had the customary dragon on his shoulder, respecting the Mother Chapter.

Pulling the back of his jeans down past his ass, she was thankful that there was no table. If she'd followed procedures, she'd need to use a sheet and would miss out on seeing his body.

She picked up the bottle of lotion and squeezed some in her hands. "This could be a little cold. I'll try to warm it up before I put my hands on your back."

She used a lot, knowing she'd need to massage his back and down his gluteus maximus to find his trigger point. If she could figure out where the nerve was compressed, she'd be more successful at helping him become pain-free.

"I'm going to touch you now. Try to stay relaxed. Let me know if lying on your stomach makes the pain worse."

"Just do what you got to do." He turned his head on the mattress.

She placed her hands on his lower back and fluidly spread the lotion on his skin to give her a better work surface. He was muscular and hard.

The tension underneath her fingers held him in the grip of pain. She moved her thumbs along his spine, eliciting a moan from Dio.

She stilled. "Did that hurt?"

"Nah."

She smiled, knowing he couldn't see her. There were so many things she could do to him, and he'd enjoy it. She'd seen her massages take a man out of the throws of pain until they wept with thankfulness.

Not all her sessions were like that. Sometimes, she could only comfort someone for the half hour or the hour they paid for, but her clients looked forward to that time with her weekly.

Life wasn't meant to be lived with chronic pain. She hoped to help put a few more minutes of pleasure into the lives of her clients .

Ever since she heard her real mother had died in a house explosion where they were cooking methamphetamine, she wanted to do something good for people who struggled in pain. She was sure her mother lived in a world where she tried to escape. Whether that was a mental health problem or a painful past, her mother relied on drugs to bring her pleasure.

Skye wanted to bring pleasure into other's lives in a healthy way. An honest way.

She only wished her mom had some way to find what she needed without resorting to a lifestyle that eventually killed her.

Aunt Brooke taught her everything she knew about her mom and never hid the truth once she was old enough to understand. Because Aunt Brooke went out of her way to raise her, she, too, wanted to do better and help others.

Skye moved her hands down to the top of Dio's ass and spanned her fingers, pushing her thumbs into the muscle that covered the nerve. If she could get him loose enough, he'd feel better.

He groaned. She stilled.

"Don't stop," he muttered into the mattress.

She concentrated on the trigger points. It was harder to find the spots on him than on her clients. He had a muscular ass, making her work at finding his connective tissue difficult—she glanced up, making sure he still had his eyes closed.

Taking her time, she worked her thumbs down the path of his sciatic nerve until she reached the side of his thigh.

His leg twitched. She eased back, using her fingers with a lighter pressure. Throughout the manipulations, he remained still. She wanted him to stay relaxed and not fight the process. He was doing great. Unlike other clients she'd had, Dio had no problem getting used to her touching him.

She worked her way up, stopping to deep tissue massage the route. Throughout the session, she kept her hands in the proper places. She never let her fingers wander. However, it was hard not to caress him when his muscles flexed.

A light snore broke the silence. She leaned over him without moving on the bed. His eyes were closed, and his mouth slightly open. Her stomach fluttered, giving her goosebumps. He wasn't the first person to fall asleep when she gave him a massage, but she hadn't even explained the sleeping positions he should lay in to ease the pressure on his lower back.

She continued for another twenty minutes. Throughout that time, he gave soft moans, and his breathing grew deeper.

If he had remained awake, she would've turned him onto his back and flossed the nerve again, but sleep was important to relax his body. Though, if he slept flat on his belly, his lower back would hurt tomorrow.

She moved off the bed. Because she wanted him comfortable, she carefully pulled the jeans that were bunched around his knees off him. His boxers ended up around his thighs and she worked them off, too.

In her line of work, she'd seen men in all stages of dress and undress. It came with the job. A bare ass was nothing new. Except it was Dio's ass.

She inhaled deeply at the end of the bed, assessing the problem. The last thing she wanted to do was wake him up.

She spotted a whiskey bottle on the nightstand. Shaking her head, she should've known he'd self-medicate. That seemed to be the way of the world for Havlin members.

Stepping alongside the bed, she rubbed his back to see if she could rouse him enough to prop him up on his side. When he failed to wake, she placed her hand between his knees and pulled his leg up and to the side until his knee bent, propping his hip up.

That's all she could do. It was better than nothing. He outweighed her by eighty pounds. Without some help on his part, she couldn't move his dead weight.

The comforter was beneath him since he was on top of the bed. She walked out of the bedroom and opened the hall closet. There were no extra blankets, but he had a rolled up sleeping bag that she could use to cover him up.

She tucked him in. Then, she gathered her lotion, zipped up her bag, and shut off the bedroom light.

But she never stepped out of the room. What if he needed her in the middle of the night? What if he had to get up and use the bathroom and couldn't manage to get out of bed? After a deep tissue massage, it was common for clients to become unsteady on their feet because they were too relaxed.

She returned to the room, put her bag on his dresser, and dug out her phone. Making sure her alarm was set early enough in the morning so she could get home and take a shower before she had to go out on appointments; she then texted Mariah so she wouldn't worry about her not coming back to the apartment.

She kicked off her sneakers. Not wanting to sleep in her clothes, she opened the dresser and took one of Dio's shirts. She quickly changed using the light from her phone and then got in bed on the far side, giving Dio plenty of room in the king-size bed.