OMG! My Physical Therapist Is My Ex-Boyfriend

Zoe's POV

I slumped in the waiting room chair, my knee throbbing like hell. Damn those stairs! My morning run three days ago had been going perfectly until I missed a step and completely screwed myself over. Ten thousand followers were waiting for my marathon training videos, and here I was limping around like a broken athlete.

"Zoe, this physical therapist is absolutely the BEST in Miami!" Mom Elena said excitedly, gesturing dramatically. "Carmen told me he used to play professional soccer and specializes in treating you exercise fanatics. And..." she lowered her voice, eyes sparkling, "apparently he's drop-dead gorgeous! Half his female clients have crushes on him."

I scrolled through Instagram absentmindedly, nodding dismissively. "Mom, I only care about fixing my leg right now. I have ZERO interest in men. I just need him to fix my knee—I can't miss the marathon in six months."

Honestly, after that disastrous breakup two months ago, men made me sick. That asshole Ethan... whatever. I didn't want to think about him. Now I was all about my career. Men could go to hell.

I checked the time—10:30. Time to go in. Mom helped me push open the frosted glass door, and I limped inside.

Then my world completely collapsed.

A man stood with his back to the door, wearing tight black scrubs. God, that body... broad shoulders perfectly outlined under the fitted shirt, a lean waist, and that damn perfect ass. Just his silhouette made my heart skip a beat. No no no, this couldn't be happening...

He turned around, and I nearly forgot how to breathe.

Sharp jawline, deep brown eyes, and that perfectly tousled black hair.

FUCK, how could it be him?

Ethan Rodriguez.

My ex-boyfriend. The asshole I'd cursed out two months ago was now standing in front of me in medical scrubs, his face showing the same shock as mine.

Time stopped. My brain went completely blank, and all I could hear was my heart thundering in my ears. Damn it, why was he still so handsome? Why did he look even sexier after two months apart?

He spoke first, his voice deeper and colder than I remembered. "Well, this is a surprise."

My throat felt like sandpaper. I struggled to squeeze out a sentence. "I... I'm here for physical therapy."

Mom bounced in behind me, completely oblivious to the tension.

"Dr. Rodriguez! This is my daughter Zoe!" she introduced enthusiastically. "The girl with the knee injury I mentioned on the phone."

Ethan's gaze lingered on my face for a second. "Of course. We've... met before. Please have a seat, Miss Garcia."

Miss Garcia? That formal address almost made me want to roll my eyes. Two months ago you were calling me baby in bed, and now you're playing professional?

"Please lie down on the treatment table so I can examine your injury." He pointed to the white table in the center, his tone so cold it made me want to punch him.

I gritted my teeth and stood up, the pain in my knee reminding me of my situation. How ironic—I was the patient, he was the doctor.

"You need to change into these shorts for a proper examination." He handed me extremely short athletic shorts, his fingers deliberately brushing my palm. That instant spark nearly made me jump.

I glared at him, grabbed the shorts, and headed to the changing room. My hands shook as I changed. Damn it, why him? Miami had so many physical therapists, why did it have to be HIM?

When I lay back down, I tried to look composed. But when Ethan approached, his familiar cologne mixed with masculine pheromones instantly surrounded me. Hell, my body was actually starting to react.

"Relax. I need to check for ligament damage." The moment his large hands touched my knee, electricity shot through my body. His warm palms pressed against my skin, then began slowly moving upward—that burning touch made my heart race and my body involuntarily tremble. Damn it, he was definitely doing this on purpose!

"Okay... Doctor." I practically spat out the title through gritted teeth.

"Excellent technique, Doctor!" Mom commented excitedly from the side, completely missing that I was about to explode. "Zoe looks so relaxed!"

Ethan's hand stopped at my inner thigh, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin while looking directly into my eyes. "Yes, her body is very... responsive to treatment."

My face instantly burned red. That bastard! Clearly molesting me in front of my mother while maintaining that innocent professional act. I clenched my teeth, nails digging into my palms—wanting to scream "GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME" at him, but with Mom right there, I could only suppress my rage.

His hand continued upward, almost touching my... I bit my lip hard, desperately trying not to make a sound. Damn it, why did my body still remember his touch?

"The muscle tension here is very severe," he said softly, his fingers drawing small circles at the top of my thigh. "It requires deep massage therapy for relief."

I stared at him, saying through gritted teeth, "Yes... yes, Doctor."

Just when I was about to lose control, the receptionist knocked. "Mrs. Garcia, we need you at the front desk for insurance paperwork."

"Of course!" Mom immediately stood up. "Zoe, cooperate with the doctor!"

The moment the door closed, I exploded. "You fucking bastard! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Ethan calmly washed his hands, turning around with that familiar, infuriating smirk. "Obviously providing medical care. What did you think I was doing?"

"Cut the act!" I tried to sit up, but he firmly pressed my shoulders down, forcing me to lie back.

"Stay down. I'm not finished examining you." His voice carried that commanding tone, that familiar dominance that made my lower abdomen tighten.

"Get your hands off me!" I struggled, but he was much stronger.

"Careful, Zoe. You wouldn't want to worsen your injury, would you?" He put his hand back on my thigh, this time more brazenly. "Besides, your body seems to be enjoying my... professional attention."

DAMN IT! I hated that smug expression on his face. Worse, my body was indeed trembling under his touch, and my nipples had hardened.

"You're such a bastard, Ethan. Just because you're a doctor now doesn't mean you can—"

"Can what?" He leaned in, his warm breath teasing my ear. "Touch you like this?"

His hand suddenly moved up, stroking my most sensitive area through the thin shorts. I almost cried out.

"Stop!" My voice trembled, but it sounded more like a moan.

"Your mouth says stop, but your body is telling a completely different story." He chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to massage gently. "Still getting wet for me like before, aren't you, baby?"

I wanted to argue back, but when his thumb found that sensitive spot, I could only bite my lip, desperately trying not to make a sound. Damn it, why was my body still responding to him?

"That's my good girl," he whispered in my ear. "Always so responsive to my touch."

Just then, I heard Mom's footsteps outside. Ethan instantly pulled his hand away, as if nothing had happened.

When Mom entered, she saw Ethan seriously examining my knee while I lay there, face flushed red.

"How's the examination going, Doctor?" Mom asked with concern.

"Very thorough," Ethan replied, his eyes carrying implications only I could understand. "I recommend intensive treatment. Three times a week, 45 minutes each session. I'll personally supervise her... recovery process."

"Wonderful! When do we start?" Mom was as happy as if she'd won the lottery.

"Tomorrow at 2 PM would be perfect." Ethan looked at me, his eyes full of challenge. "Make sure she wears appropriate treatment attire."

Leaving the clinic, my legs were still weak, and I could still feel the burning sensation left by his fingers. Sitting in the car, listening to Mom excitedly planning the treatment schedule, I gritted my teeth thinking about how to deal with that bastard tomorrow.

The next few weeks were definitely going to be a war.

The most terrifying part was that my body was still craving his touch.