Chapter 43: Therapy in Heat

The sun had barely dipped behind the horizon when Ji-hye stepped back into the villa. Her skin still glowed faintly from the shower at the training center, and strands of damp hair clung to her neck. Her muscles ached from the brutal rally match—every jump, spike, and dive was still echoing in her bones. She didn’t even have time to exhale when Harin greeted her by the door with a suspicious grin. "You’re back just in time," Harin said sweetly, but there was a glint in her eye. "Go get ready. He’s waiting." Ji-hye blinked. "He? Who’s—" Harin didn’t let her finish. Her fingers latched gently onto Ji-hye’s wrist and tugged her through the hallway. Ji-hye stumbled forward, still confused. "Wait, Harin, what are you—" "In the bedroom," Harin said, ignoring her protests. "He’s set up for your therapy session. Don’t make him wait." Ji-hye stopped short, eyes wide. "Therapy? Now?" "You want to make the Olympic squad or not?" Harin teased, giving her a wink. Then her fingers grazed Ji-hye’s shoulder, slowly sliding the zipper of her tracksuit down. "Come on. You know the drill. Off with this." Ji-hye’s cheeks flushed crimson as Harin undressed her with casual ease, unzipping her jacket, then tugging down the waistband of her training tights. She wasn’t even wearing a bra—just a thin cotton top that barely hid her nipples. The moment her tights hit her ankles, she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest and clenched her thighs. "Harin... seriously..." But Harin just smirked. "Relax. He’s already waiting." Then she was gone, the bedroom door swinging open and closing behind her, leaving Ji-hye standing there in her underwear, heart pounding, nipples stiff from a mix of cold air and rising embarrassment. The room was dim, lit with soft warm light. Joon-ho stood beside the bed, already in his therapy uniform—simple black slacks and a fitted white tee. The bed was freshly laid out with towels, oils, and pillows positioned to support her hips. She shuffled in, arms still crossed. "I didn’t know we were doing this tonight," Ji-hye muttered. "You pushed yourself hard today," Joon-ho said, calm as ever. "And your right hip is locking up again. If we don’t handle it now, it’ll mess up your form." He gestured to the bed. "Come on. Let’s work it out before it builds." Ji-hye hesitated. "I’m... I’m not really dressed for it." Joon-ho looked up at her, unfazed. "Neither am I." She blinked, unsure if that was supposed to be a joke or a challenge. But something about the steadiness in his tone grounded her. Slowly, she nodded and walked toward the bed. She turned around, unclasped her bra, and let it fall onto the floor. Her hands instinctively went to cover her chest again, her cheeks burning. Joon-ho didn’t flinch, didn’t leer. "Lay down. Face down." Ji-hye nodded and climbed onto the bed, lowering herself slowly, letting her bare breasts sink into the soft surface. She heard the gentle pump of oil in his hand before his palms landed warm on her lower back. The moment he touched her, the tension in her body spiked—and not just from the pain. His thumbs began moving along her spine, slowly inching their way toward her right hip. She flinched as he pressed deeper into the muscle just above her buttock. "Ah—fuck, that hurts..." "It’s inflamed. That’s what happens when your hips don’t rotate fully during the landing," he said clinically, pressing harder. "You jumped like thirty times today. All that impact funnels right into this." Ji-hye clenched her fists against the sheets. Her thighs trembled slightly as his thumbs dug in, but she didn’t ask him to stop. The sharp pain faded slowly into warmth—burning, but soothing. Then his hands shifted, oil-slicked fingers tracing her outer thigh, pressing into the taut line where glute met hamstring. Ji-hye bit her lip. The way he moved—slow, precise, powerful—it was unbearable. Her face flushed against the sheets, body twitching each time his touch hit a tight spot and then melted it away. "Relax," Joon-ho murmured, voice close to her ear. "You’re tightening up." "I... I can’t help it." His palm cupped her right hip, thumb digging in along the iliac crest. "You have to. Otherwise this will just come back." Ji-hye felt her breath grow shallow as his hand moved up, pressing just below her lower back, easing into that sweet, aching tension that had been bothering her for weeks. Then his other hand slid along the inner part of her thigh. She tensed. "Joon-ho..." "I’m staying above the adductors," he said gently. "Still part of the therapy." She nodded, silent. She didn’t want to admit how wet she was getting. Her panties clung between her thighs like they were painted on, soaked from the heat pooling in her belly. The more he pressed, the more she felt her body betray her—twitching, sighing, flushing with desire. It wasn’t just the massage anymore. "Is that spot better?" he asked, his hand circling around her hip again. "Y-yeah... I think so..." "You’re moving easier now. Let me do one more stretch. Then we’re done." He guided her leg gently up, bending it at the knee, using his body to pin her hip in place while rotating the femur in its socket. The movement pulled her panties taut across her pussy, and she let out a tiny gasp. Joon-ho paused. "Too much?" Ji-hye shook her head, face buried in the sheets. "N-no..." He held the stretch a moment longer, then released it. The tension in her muscles melted completely. She was limp. Sweating. Wet. He stood back, wiping his hands with a towel. "You’re done." Ji-hye slowly rolled onto her side, still blushing, hands covering her chest again. "Thanks..." she whispered. Joon-ho nodded. "We’ll check again in two days. But you’re improving." She bit her lip, wanting to say more, but didn’t. He picked up his kit and turned to leave. Ji-hye’s voice stopped him. "Joon-ho..." He turned back. She swallowed. "Would you... stay? Just for a minute?" Joon-ho’s expression didn’t change. But something in his eyes flickered. He walked back toward the bed—silent, slow, and calm.