1. Kyra

Present Day

" O ne more set, and then we're done for the day." Every morning since Rhodes has been able to get up and move around, we've been doing physical therapy in his home gym. The hardest part about this whole situation is keeping things professional. A task that's getting harder as each day passes. It doesn't matter if we're in this room, the living room, the kitchen, or even on his covered patio. Rhodes Kennedy is not ashamed of any part of his body. He's continuously shirtless, which means I'm getting the live porn show of his arms, chest, and abs. Don't even get me started on his thighs. The man doesn't miss a day at all.

Believe me, keeping my mouth shut and the drool from dripping down my chin is a full-time job. I've talked to my best friend relentlessly about lusting over my dad's friend and patient. She tells me to pull up my big girl panties and keep my head in the game. A task which is only getting harder and harder. Literally.

"Still gotta work on my upper body. You using the treadmill today?" Rhodes asks in between each rep. You'd never know he went through surgery only weeks ago with how in tune he is with his body. The amputation of his leg hasn't stopped him from continuing with his day-to-day tasks. There are days when I wonder why I'm still here in a nursing capacity. Sure, the first few days were rough. Sleeping didn't come easy for him, and he was up and down a lot. Grumbling about using the crutches, ready for this shit to be over. All I could do was make sure he had his prescribed pain meds. Not that he willingly took them after his second day home. More times than not, he'd take Tylenol instead. I cooked and cleaned up after the two of us. Really, it's been no different than caring for a sick family member. That's how good he was at handling the amputation of his leg. And news flash, these military men I'm surrounded by in one form or the other are insistent on toughing it out.

"As long as you don't mind?" I state it more like a question than an answer.

This has been our routine ever since the physical therapist showed up the first week after his surgery. The PT showed me the ropes for the first few days, then I took over. While the daily exercises aren't difficult and Rhodes could probably do them in his sleep by now, I still watch over him and look for any signs of over-exertion. When he's done, I'll hit the treadmill for thirty or so minutes. He goes about lifting weights, working diligently on his upper body and doing leg lifts with only one side of his body, and I try not to fall flat on my ass while watching him. I like to joke that I'm allergic to lifting weights. It's not my idea of fun. Neither is walking at a pace so fast I'm practically jogging, but exercise is the key to living a healthy life or some such bullshit the doctors and nurses spew at you. Yeah, yeah, I'm the latter, sue me. After standing all day in a hospital and being dead on your feet, the last thing anyone wants to do is willingly step into a gym.

"Not at all." Rhodes grabs a towel and wipes the sweat off his face, giving me ample time to gawk at his body. Yep, forgive me, God, for I have sinned, but if sinning means looking at a man as handsome as a Grecian god, so be it. Never in my life have I been jealous of a towel as much as I am right now. I only wish it were my tongue when he moves it down toward his chest, which sadly also means my time at staring at Rhodes is over for the time being.

"Thanks," I somehow manage to say without sounding like a flaming idiot. Rhodes grabs his crutch, refusing to use both, which shows how strong he is as a person and also how stubborn he is. He stands up, and I go to take a step back when the tips of his fingers graze the skin between my top and leggings. I'm frozen in place, standing still, wondering if I should move or not. Maybe it's the fact that this is the first time Rhodes has touched me in more than a professional way. Until this very moment, I kind of assumed the feeling was one-sided, not that I have any reason to feel this way. I've seen Rhodes in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs before, and he has not once hidden what he's packing.

"You're welcome, and Kyra?" I lift my head, no longer focusing on his chest or the smattering of brown hair that makes me want to rub against him like a cat in heat. I want to know what it'd feel like to have nothing between us, to see what Rhodes is capable of doing to my body. A shiver takes a hold of me at the thought.

As it stands now, the copious amounts of self-induced orgasms are barely scratching the surface of my pent-up desire. I swear my fingers are going to turn into shriveled raisins before too long or with my luck arthritis will set in and I'll really be in trouble.

"Yes?" My voice is breathless and uneven, my chest rising and falling with each moment our eyes are on one another's.

"You've got something in your hair." Rhodes' hand moves away from my hip, the tips of his fingers dragging up the length of my torso until he removes them before he meets the underside of my breast.

Bummer. I wanted him to keep touching me.

Try as I might, but taking a deep exhale to hopefully have him linger longer doesn't help. Rhodes keeps one hand on his crutch as he takes his touch away from me, moving to the top of my head. My hair is in desperate need of a wash. I'm on day four, and it is way past time with how overheated I am around Rhodes. By tomorrow, it'll be standing on its own with enough grease to change the oil in a motor. I'm almost afraid Rhodes will see just how bad it is.

My hair reaches the top of my ass and is thicker than I care to admit. The last thing I want to do when it feels like this is the hottest month in Florida is blow dry my hair. Every year, I swear it's just one month and then the next month comes only for it to be even worse. This summer feels like the heatwaves have been days on end with higher heat indexes than the day before. Throw in the humidity staying in the ninetieth percentile and the only way to stay cool is to stay inside or sit your ass in a body of water.

"What?" I quirk my head to the side. He comes away with a leaf. The top knot on my head is always getting into something. "Oh, well, that must've been there for a while now," I respond. I've taken over watering Rhodes' plants in the front and backyard. He has a yard most people would dream of. Situated on the beach, his backyard is less than a hundred feet away from the ocean.

"I imagine so." Rhodes hand comes away. The leaf is more of a petal, one of the rare colors of a hibiscus plant he has near the small front porch. The beautiful and bold purple color gives way to a fuchsia and then pink. The bright yellow stigma makes me love the flower even more. I didn't expect the lush landscape surrounding Rhodes' home. It was a huge difference to my father's place where I've been staying between stints as a travel nurse. It doesn't even have a yard since Dad prefers to live in a condo with little to no maintenance. Being with Rhodes has been a nice change of scenery.

"I'll just get my workout done now." Being this close, practically feeling the heat emanating from his body, and not being able to do a thing about it is slowly killing me .

"Alright." We go our separate ways—him to the weight bench and me to the treadmill. The entire time, I can sense his gaze on my body as I walk away.