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Summary
Ben Solo does not like to be touched. He has never accepted a massage from any of the pretty young women Snoke likes to send to his changing room, white towels draped over their arms and smelling of oils and incense. Aside from a few misguided, alcohol-fueled trysts, he doesn’t remember the last time that someone has laid their hands on him outside of a movie set.
But the sweet brush of Rey’s fingers on his skin is like heaven. Ben is sure he is melting on her exam table. The firm press of her fingertips continue dragging up the cords of his neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He feels his lips parting gently to the cool air, trembling.
“Is this all right?” she murmurs, sugar-sweet.
“Yes,” he tries to say. He prays he didn’t let out a deep groan instead.
OR
Ben Solo refuses to take a stunt double and pays the price when he breaks his leg filming his latest action blockbuster. His new physical therapist, Rey Sanders, seems to be the only person in Hollywood who doesn’t recognize the infamous Kylo Ren – and for some reason, he finds himself fighting to keep it that way.