STOLEN BY THE RIVAL QUARTERBACK のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

After the deep romantic encounter at the gym, I had bound Jaxson’s joint with heavy compression straps and practically forced him into his room with anti-inflammatories,then I moved to the his estate. I sat on the edge of the mattress, wrapped in an oversized sweater, staring down at my hands. They were still trembling slightly. The phantom heat of Jaxson’s skin seemed to linger on my fingertips, a persistent hum that made my chest tighten every time I recalled the dangerous proximity of his lips against mine. The feeling of isolation had already down on me the moment I left him.I was miles away from civilization, trapped in a high-tech fortress with a man who looked at me with a mixture of raw desire and lethal paranoia. I needed a lifeline. I needed an objective voice, a sanity check, a link back to the grounded, logical world I had left behind in Poland. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my satellite-encrypted smartphone, a high security device built specifically for my m

The lights went back but the connection with kaja had already went off.I left to my room. Day two of physical therapy was meant to establish a baseline. Instead, it was turning into an exercise in psychological warfare.I stood in the center of the high-performance training suite, clip board tucked under my arm, watching Jaxson Vance deliberately ruin a basic hip-flexor extension. He sat on the edge of the examination table, his long legs hanging off the side. His left knee the one that had undergone full reconstructive surgery three months ago after a season ending tear was wrapped in a light compression sleeve.Instead of smoothly lifting his knee to ninety degrees as instructed, he barely raised it two inches, let out a groan, and let his leg drop back down with a dull thump."Can't do it," Jaxson said, resting his elbows on his knees and looking up at me through dark, defiant eyes. "It’s stuck. My body’s telling me no.""Your body isn't telling you no, Jaxson. Your ego is," I s

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 c

The echo of shattering glass had barely faded into the humid, mist-choked air of the hydrotherapy wing before the estate’s automated defense protocols engaged. Above us,the red laser sights that had danced across the sapphire water vanished as heavy blast shutters began sliding across the ceiling with a low, mechanical groan, sealing us into the pool hall. Jaxson kept his arm locked around my waist, his wet body anchored between me and the open room as he guided me toward the submerged steps. The water churned around our chests, hot and thick with steam, but the air above the surface had turned instantly freezing. "Stay low," Jaxson growled into my ear, his voice a flat, rasp. Every muscle in his upper body was taut as iron, ignoring the blinding throb in his right knee as he took me out of the pool onto the wet slate tiles. Before I could wring the water from my hair or grab a towel from the rack, the heavy steel access doors at the far end of the pool deck hissed open. A

POV: Sienna VanceThe rain had been beating against the tall, arched windows of the private recovery suite in Zakopane for two straight hours, turning the spruce trees outside into dark, blurred shadows.He lay face down on the padded massage table, his broad shoulders filling almost the entire width of the frame. On the field, he was an untouchable titan, the franchise quarterback whose contract carried the weight of an entire organization. In this room, stripped down to his athletic shorts, he was my patient.Or at least, that’s the lie I kept telling myself every time I stepped across the threshold."You’re flinching before I’ve even touched you, Jaxson," I said, my voice steady, professional, and devoid of the nervous flutter currently hammering against my ribs. I reached for the bottle of warming Arnica oil, popping the cap with a sharp snap that sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room.Jaxson didn’t turn his head, but I saw the muscles along his spine ripple as he tightened his