Warrior Forever (Warriors in Heat)
Page 21
He reaches out and takes my calf.
I gasp and grab the sides of the seat. What the hell is he doing?
He takes one end of my shoelace and tugs. The bow unravels. My pulse skips a hundred beats.
He stretches out the lace, and his gaze flickers along the length.
A flush bursts up my neck. What ? Now my favorite, multi-colored laces aren’t good enough for him, either?
Well, screw him. Not only are they freaking perfection in a strip, they match at least one other thing I’m wearing today. “If you don’t like those, then you’ll really hate my rainbow underwear.”
The grip on my calf changes. Gets pinching tight. My breath catches. He keeps staring at my laces then undoes the other shoe.
Moisture breaks out on my nose. Why the hell did I say that? I rub my nose. What is he thinking? He can’t even look at me…
Oh, god.
“I mean it’s a rainbow thong …not like kiddie underwear.” I clear my throat. Stop talking, Katie . But I keep going, and I can practically feel the depth of the hole I’m digging. “They’re for women. I have like eight pair. They’re just real cute, in case you wonder—”
His head snaps up.
Oh, shit . What is wrong with me? I should be banned from speaking.
Clay practically shakes. Each of his fingers presses into my calf hard enough for me to feel them distinctively, individually.
I’m getting fired.
My breath rushes out. And I get it. Totally justified. But he pries off my sneakers, goes to the door, and tosses them outside. I watch them bounce off the pavers. Shit. Shit. Shit . I look around. Where’d I leave my backpack? I lean down off the stool.
“Where are you going? Your socks are soaking wet.”
I freeze, toe pointed and hovering an inch from the floor, and then I hoist myself back up onto the stool.
He sets his foot on the base of the stool then slides the towel off his shoulder and drapes it over his knee.
“Damp socks are very bad for you.” He seizes my calf again and draws my foot onto his knee. “Don’t you know that?”
Everything in me goes still, as if my body has a glitch.
Fuck .
I stare at my dirty, grass-spattered sock on his stark-white towel. It’s all I can do to keep breathing, but my mind flashes to not so long ago. When I use to walk to school—rain, hail, or mother-freaking snow —with holes in my shoes. My socks got wet, and I survived. Survived to do it all again the very next day.
I think the two of us were raised quite differently.
He peels down my sock. I hold on to the bench. His fingers skim my skin. My muscles draw tight. Yes, my sock is soggy. Yes, my t-shirt is damp. But none of that has anything on the sopping state of my lovely, rainbow thong.
He removes the sock and drops it to the ground then wraps the towel around my calf and wipes. My skin turns to goose-flesh, and I watch the slide of that white, perfect, expensive towel over my dirt-streaked leg in a kind of trance. He wipes over my ankle then takes my foot into the folds. My breath makes a sound. He rubs my toes. My teeth clamp over my lip. There’s an unbearable tension between my legs, and I want to rock into it.
He lowers my foot then takes the other, giving it that same thorough treatment.
Why is he doing this?
I swallow again. There’s too much spit in my mouth.
He drops the towel to the floor.
My shoulders unclench. Except he’s not done. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls something out. I stare at the bundle. Thick, black socks. His socks. He separates them and takes my ankle. I let him have my foot. The goose-flesh is gone, and not because he was right—wet socks make my whole body chill.
But because right now, I’m burning hot.
He sets my heel onto his knee, scrunches one black sock, then pauses at my toes, and this time, instead of using the towel, his fingers touch my skin. He brushes my toes as though they’re fascinating.
I hold my breath. I hold the seat. I hold my stomach tight.
He pinches my big toe, where I painted sparkles over pink nail-polish, then shoves the sock on. The sock swamps my foot. He pulls it up high. The end reaches almost to my knee. I wiggle my toes against the tension. He grabs my moving toes and squeezes them inside the thick sock.
A little sound escapes me.
He glances up, and I nearly slip off the stool. Oh, god . I’ve been wrong this whole time. He takes my other foot and puts the other sock on as he did the first. It doesn’t matter that he’s looked away—I’ve already seen the truth. His expression just branded in my brain and will never wash away.
He’s not mad at me.
He hasn’t been judging me.
The sock pulls up so hard that I squeak and grab his shoulder. My pussy throbs. Oh, fuck.
He’s been fighting to resist .
I look at him, and he looks back.
He’s crossed a line. He shouldn’t have done this. It was inappropriate. He could’ve handed me the towel. He could’ve given me the socks. But he made this choice. He broke this barrier.
Now I want to tear it down and find out what’s on the other side.
“Gee.” But I can’t muster the smile I want to pair this intended sass with. “Thanks, Dad.”
He massages my socked foot, but his expression isn’t half as reassuring as his action. “You should be very careful what you wish for, Katie.”
“Why is that?” I manage to answer, despite almost swallowing my own tongue.
He squeezes my foot hard and leans closer. “Because if I were your daddy, you’d be in a lot of trouble right now.”
I twitch like I just got stung by a bee and hold on to him, but he stands, and his shirt slips from my grip.
He straightens the tie he knotted himself today then reaches for his briefcase. “Ensure you lock the door behind you, Katie.”
I watch him leave with a gaping mouth. Don’t think I trust myself to do anything.
CONTINUE READING
Books
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BAD FOR YOU SERIES
Thrillingly Sexy Romances
Didn’t I Warn You
Didn’t You Promise
Don’t Lie to Me
ALPHA ROMANCES
All the Alpha you can handle
For Her Protection
King’s Captive
Twice As Hard (Too Taboo Anthology)
His Temptation
Mechanic
Caught For The Holidays
A bout Amber
After spending years imagining fictional adventures, Amber finally found a way to turn daydreaming into a productive habit. She now spends her time in a coffee-fueled adrenaline haze writing thrillingly erotic romance. She lives with her husband and children in semirural Victoria. Amber is an award-winning writer, Amazon bestselling author, and member of Romance Writers of Australia, Melbourne Romance Writers Guild and Writers Victoria.
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