My Brother-in-Law’s Postpartum Massage Trap - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
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His burning touch worked some kind of magic, sparking a dangerous thought—that whatever came next might not be entirely unwelcome.
But just as Ryan Lowell was about to cross the line, he stopped.
I bit my lip, shooting him a restless look.
Instead of going further, he just tugged my underwear lower, exposing the curve of my lower stomach.
His whole palm pressed against it, warm and firm.
After giving birth, most of my body had bounced back—except for my belly.
It wasn't as tight as before, softer now, like sinking into a down pillow.
Ryan pulled his hand away, thoughtful.
"You've got diastasis recti. Your core needs work."
Core strength?
The term left me blank. But I got the gist—I needed to exercise my abs.
Other areas were easy enough, but how exactly was I supposed to target this part?
My mind went straight to the bedroom.
Was Ryan seriously suggesting... that as a solution?
My pulse kicked up, already scrambling for how to refuse if he actually said it out loud.
Electric tension buzzed under my skin, making my breath uneven.
I wasn't some naive girl—at my age, desire hit hard and fast.
But I couldn't betray my husband.
Lost in the spiral, I barely heard Ryan's voice until he waved a hand in front of my face, amused.
"Sis, I said you should buy a yoga ball."
Heat flooded my cheeks as I snapped back to reality, nodding too fast. God, please don't let him guess where my mind went.
When his hand left my stomach, it felt like losing a lifeline.
I lay there, skin still humming, face burning.
Ryan smirked as he packed up, eyeing my sprawled form with lazy approval.
"Told you no woman walks away unaffected by my skills."
He demonstrated a few basic yoga poses, then tossed over his shoulder, "Seriously, get the ball. Between that and my tune-ups, you'll bounce back better than ever."
I'd worried my body was permanently changed, but his confidence was catching.
Maybe someday I'd even be tighter than before.
In the dim light, Ryan's sharp profile reignited the memory of his touch.
The man knew exactly how to unravel a woman.
A few more seconds, and I might've shattered.
But the worst part? He did nothing.
What's more infuriating than a beast? A man who plays saint.
Frustration simmered—not just from the ache, but his indifference.
He'd looked. He'd touched.
Was I really that unappealing?
Still, his restraint was for the best.
After seeing him out, I turned cold toward my husband for the first time.
"Don't invite your brother over again."
My husband paused, our baby drowsing in his arms. "Why?"
How could I explain the charged moment in the bedroom? I just shook my head.
He smiled, settling our child into the crib before pulling me close.
"Ryan's family. I trust him."
His words soothed my nerves, but the heat Ryan had lit still licked at my veins.
Pregnancy had kept us apart too long—this hunger was natural.
As we talked, my fingers found my husband's waist, restless.
But just as Ryan Lowell was about to cross the line, he stopped.
I bit my lip, shooting him a restless look.
Instead of going further, he just tugged my underwear lower, exposing the curve of my lower stomach.
His whole palm pressed against it, warm and firm.
After giving birth, most of my body had bounced back—except for my belly.
It wasn't as tight as before, softer now, like sinking into a down pillow.
Ryan pulled his hand away, thoughtful.
"You've got diastasis recti. Your core needs work."
Core strength?
The term left me blank. But I got the gist—I needed to exercise my abs.
Other areas were easy enough, but how exactly was I supposed to target this part?
My mind went straight to the bedroom.
Was Ryan seriously suggesting... that as a solution?
My pulse kicked up, already scrambling for how to refuse if he actually said it out loud.
Electric tension buzzed under my skin, making my breath uneven.
I wasn't some naive girl—at my age, desire hit hard and fast.
But I couldn't betray my husband.
Lost in the spiral, I barely heard Ryan's voice until he waved a hand in front of my face, amused.
"Sis, I said you should buy a yoga ball."
Heat flooded my cheeks as I snapped back to reality, nodding too fast. God, please don't let him guess where my mind went.
When his hand left my stomach, it felt like losing a lifeline.
I lay there, skin still humming, face burning.
Ryan smirked as he packed up, eyeing my sprawled form with lazy approval.
"Told you no woman walks away unaffected by my skills."
He demonstrated a few basic yoga poses, then tossed over his shoulder, "Seriously, get the ball. Between that and my tune-ups, you'll bounce back better than ever."
I'd worried my body was permanently changed, but his confidence was catching.
Maybe someday I'd even be tighter than before.
In the dim light, Ryan's sharp profile reignited the memory of his touch.
The man knew exactly how to unravel a woman.
A few more seconds, and I might've shattered.
But the worst part? He did nothing.
What's more infuriating than a beast? A man who plays saint.
Frustration simmered—not just from the ache, but his indifference.
He'd looked. He'd touched.
Was I really that unappealing?
Still, his restraint was for the best.
After seeing him out, I turned cold toward my husband for the first time.
"Don't invite your brother over again."
My husband paused, our baby drowsing in his arms. "Why?"
How could I explain the charged moment in the bedroom? I just shook my head.
He smiled, settling our child into the crib before pulling me close.
"Ryan's family. I trust him."
His words soothed my nerves, but the heat Ryan had lit still licked at my veins.
Pregnancy had kept us apart too long—this hunger was natural.
As we talked, my fingers found my husband's waist, restless.
End of My Brother-in-Law’s Postpartum Massage Trap Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to My Brother-in-Law’s Postpartum Massage Trap book page.