Chapter 15: Thermal Currents(Sienna)

After the harrowing breach on the security feeds and the agonizing flare up in the gym, land-based exercises were no longer a safe. Moving our therapy session to the heated pool was the only way to eliminate joint load while maintaining mobility.

Water buoyancy would reduce his effective body weight by eighty percent, allowing us to perform critical manual manipulation without crushing what remained of his graft.

I stood at the edge of the submerged steps, wearing a dark, form fitting neoprene athletic swimsuit and a high neck rash guard. I adjusted my hair into a tight, neat bun, taking a slow, deep breath to steady my frayed nerves. The events of the last twenty four hours Bronisław’s terrifying arrival, Kaja’s encrypted warnings, and the intoxicating, dangerous closeness in the gym weighed heavily on my shoulders. But in this room, under these lights, I had to be a clinician first.

A splash of water sounded near the deep end. Jaxson emerged from the steam, wading through the chest-deep water toward the shallow therapy ledge.

He wore dark swim trunks, his bare, broad chest glistening with beads of moisture that caught the golden light. The sheer physical scale of him was staggering defined abdominal muscles, wide shoulders carved from years of elite athletic training, and thick arms that rippled with power as he navigated the water. Yet, as he moved, the slight drag in his right leg betrayed the quiet agony he was still fighting through.

He stopped near the stainless-steel handrails, his torso half-submerged, dark hair wet and pushed back from his sharp forehead. His storm-colored eyes locked onto mine, unreadable, cold, and heavy with unspoken friction.

"The water is set to ninety-eight degrees," Jaxson said, his deep voice carrying a raspy, echoes-filled tone across the pool. "Is that warm enough for your clinical standards, Doctor?"

"It’s ideal for vasodilation and muscle relaxation," I replied, keeping my voice smooth and strictly professional as I descended the tiled steps into the water.

The sudden envelope of heat was overwhelming. The warm thermal current wrapped around my skin, instantly relaxing the tight tension in my back. I waded deeper until the water rose to my chest, stepping directly into his personal space on the wide underwater therapy platform.

"We’re going to work on passive flexion and manual patellar tracking," I explained, gesturing for him to back up toward the padded underwater ledge. "Because the water supports your weight, I need you to completely relax your quadriceps. Do not fight me, and do not try to push the joint yourself."

"I don't like being passive, Sienna," Jaxson growled softly, though he rested his elbows behind him on the tiled edge, allowing his feet to float up.

"Then consider this an exercise in self-control," I countered, stepping closer between his floating legs.

The physical proximity underwater was instantly suffocating. The warm currents billowed between us, washing the scent of chlorine, steam, and his clean, masculine skin directly into my lungs. Even in the buoyant environment, the sheer mass of his body created a magnetic gravitational pull that made my heart hammer against my ribs.

I submerged my hands beneath the surface. The water distorted my vision, but my trained touch found its mark instantly.

I placed my right hand under the popliteal fossa of his right knee, cradling the warm joint, while my left hand smoothed over his lower quadriceps. The moment my palms met his wet, hot skin beneath the water, Jaxson’s entire upper body went rigid. A sharp, visible tremor rippled across his chest, his hands gripping the pool edge so hard his knuckles turned stark white under the surface.

"Relax the quad, Jaxson," I instructed gently, though my own pulse was fluttering wildly in my throat.

"I am relaxed," he rasped through locked teeth, his dark eyes burning into mine through the rising mist.

"You're bracing like you're about to get hit by a linebacker," I said softly. I shifted my stance on the underwater ledge to gain better leverage, stepping a fraction of an inch closer.

To properly execute the manual joint mobilization, I had to draw his knee upward while stabilizing his thigh. The physical dynamic forced me to lean in, pressing my torso directly against the side of his chest. My chest brushed his damp shoulder, the heat of our bodies fusing through the thin layer of neoprene and water.

Jaxson let out a low, ragged breath that brushed against the stray tendrils of hair at my temple. The hostile, icy wall he continuously maintained began to melt away in the steaming current, replaced by a raw, suffocating intimacy that made the rest of the world vanish.

Underwater, my thumbs carefully glided over his patellar tendon, applying gentle, rhythmic pressure to release the deep scar tissue. Every small movement required my fingers to trace the dense, powerful muscles of his thigh. The tactile feedback was overwhelming—the contrast between the soothing warmth of the pool and the fierce, electric heat radiating directly from his body stirred an undeniable fire in my chest.

I looked up from the water, intending to check his pain expression, only to find him already staring down at me.

His face was inches from mine, wet droplets clinging to his eyelashes and sharp jawline. His breathing was heavy, uneven, and echoing in sync with the pulsing water jets around us. The dark hostility that usually guarded his eyes had dissolved into an intense, possessive hunger that made my knees feel dangerously weak.

"Does this hurt?" I whispered, my voice barely carrying over the sound of the churning water.

"No," Jaxson murmured, his voice dropping into a dangerous, velvet register that vibrated straight through my bones. His left hand slowly rose beneath the surface, his wet fingers gently wrapping around my waist, pulling me a millimeter closer against his chest. "The knee doesn't hurt at all, Sienna... it's everything else."

My breath hitched, my hands stilled against his thigh as the electric current between us flared to an agonizing peak. For a long, frozen second, neither of us moved. His gaze dropped to my lips, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle on the neoprene at my hip. The slow-burning tension that had been building since I stepped onto his mountain was about to snap.

Suddenly, a loud, piercing crack echoed through the hydrotherapy hall.

It wasn't a sound from the pool. It was the sound of a heavy glass panel shattering in the upper viewing gallery overlooking the water.

Jaxson’s eyes snapped upward instantly, his posture turning to lethal stone in a split second. In a single fluid, protective motion, he wrapped his arm around my neck, pulling my head down against his chest and submerging us deeper into the shadow of the pool ledge.

Above us, through the rising steam and shattered glass, red laser sight lines began sweeping across the sapphire water.

A cold, familiar voice echoed down from the broken gallery above: "Such a beautiful facility, Jaxson. It really is a shame that your medical leave has been permanently revoked."