“Don’t move. If you injured your spine, moving would only make it worse.” Then he proceeded to run his other hand up my shin and over my knee before gently gripping my thigh. “You can’t feel that?”
I hummed. I might’ve also fluttered my eyes closed. Anyone witnessing this might’ve assumed that I hadn’t been touched by a straight man in quite some time—and they would’ve assumed correctly. Then again, I had no idea if this sinful sex god was straight; just my luck, he probably wasn’t.
Where was Dave when I needed him? His gaydar never failed.
Without waiting for an intelligible response, he moved to my other thigh. Though this time, he trailed his hand down my leg. I continued to hum the entire time, enjoying the warm tingles that spread through me at the feel of his touch. That was, until he made it to my ankle. He barely had his fingers wrapped around the obviously protruding bone when I opened my eyes, screamed, and pushed my upper body off the ground just enough to see my legs.
It was not the sight I expected to find.
There were no protruding bones—anywhere. Not only that, but I discovered that when he had startled me, I’d fallen backward over the lounge chair. I didn’t think I could feel my legs because they were on top of the chaise, not on the ground with the rest of my body. I was lucky I hadn’t rolled into the pool. Now that would’ve been embarrassing.
Without asking permission, he removed the shoe from my foot and began to carefully roll my ankle in slow circles. The entire time, he kept his attention on my face, likely to assess my reaction since I couldn’t seem to vocalize my thoughts properly while in front of him. Humming and moaning didn’t exactly explain much.
“How does that feel?”
The heat from his palm on the soft arch of my foot sent warm tingles up my leg. “Amazing.”
“It doesn’t hurt?” A hidden laugh vibrated through his question.
Realizing what I’d said, I shook it off and cleared my throat. “I mean…it’s sore.”
“Looks like you might’ve sprained it. Ice and ibuprofen should do the trick.” He sat up straighter and glanced at the house. “Are you alone, or is someone here with you?”
I shook my head, as if that somehow answered his question. But when I noticed the humorous confusion in his gaze, I fought past the haze of stupidity and responded verbally. “It’s just me,” I said before suddenly realizing that I must’ve hit my head because I had no idea who he was. “For now, I mean. Dave should be here soon.”
I doubted this strange man had any idea who Dave was, but that didn’t matter. Nor did it matter that Dave wouldn’t be here until next week. All he needed to know was that he wouldn’t be able to kill me and get away with it. Technically, he could…especially after he’d immobilized me by breaking my leg.
“Let me help you inside. I’ll get you all set up on the couch with the remote in your hand, ice on your foot, and something to drink next to you before Dave gets back.” He slid one arm behind my legs and the other around my back before lifting me in the bridal position.
The amount of strength it took for him to do that was beyond impressive.
And hot. Really hot.
By the time we made it to the French doors, the lust running through me had waned and was replaced with the very real fear of being murdered in my own home. Well, technically in my sister’s home. Then I realized that if he killed me, no one would know, because everyone thought I was Tiffany. Which meant she’d have to live my life, and there was no way I’d ever let her pretend to be me. Although, the thought of her attempting to manage video games was hysterical.
This whole thing had suddenly gotten way worse.
“You know…I could probably get it from here,” I said, though I didn’t do much to free myself from his ridiculously strong arms.
“It’s not a problem, really. I’m the reason your ankle hurts, so I feel it’s my duty to tend to you—or, at least, get you comfortable until Dave gets here.” Every time he said Dave’s name, it almost sounded like he used verbal air quotes, as if he didn’t believe he was real.
“But I don’t even know who you are.”
He stopped suddenly and craned his head back to look at my face. Something swirled in his emerald eyes, though I couldn’t read what it was. Confusion, possibly. Whatever it was, it didn’t last long. His gaze narrowed just as a small smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“I’m your neighbor, Jacoby Abbott.” He jerked his head back in a quick nod to gesture behind him. “I live in the pool house next door.”
I had no way to verify this claim at the moment, so I just had to go with it. I mean, it wasn’t every day I had a hot guy carry me through a threshold. Lately, the most excitement I’d had was listening to other gamers scream profanities at each other while playing online.
Jacoby must’ve taken my slow nod to mean it was okay to continue, because he toed the door open and entered the house with me in his arms. For a split second, I was able to get lost in the fantasy of it all—bored, rich housewife meets sexually deprived pool boy. I was pretty sure that had already been done because it sounded relatively familiar. Regardless, it proved to be a sexy thought.
He set
