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“I like them fine, and I’m the one with my hands all over them. I might even want to suck your toes.”
“You don’t—oh. This might be your superpower,” I moan as he moves to my toes. My feet have taken a lot of abuse over the years, with my dancing and sky-high heels I prefer. To pamper myself, I like to go for regular pedicures, but Su, at Su’s Pretty Nails, never tends to my toes like this.
“I do my best. I like your toes.” The tiny nails are painted a lavender shade.
I narrow my eyes. “How much do you like my toes?” I ask warily.
He laughs. I like Max’s laugh—deep and carefree. I like that he laughs so much because, every time I hear it, it’s like another block has been knocked off the weight resting on my shoulders. “I don’t like them that much. But they are pretty. Do you have issues with people liking your toes too much?”
“Once or twice,” I admit, and a breathy moan escapes as he works magic on my big toe. “I’ve never really loved my feet,” I add, my eyes drifting closed. “They’re big.”
“They’re feet-sized,” he argues.
“Size nine and a half. Big size for a woman. Plus, I was a dancer for most of my life, which means calluses and nails falling off and even a broken toe or two. So when this one guy wanted to suck my toes—”
“Please tell me you kicked him in the face.”
“I almost did.” I laugh—
“Did you just giggle?” Max demands.
“No!” I rear back. “I’m not a giggler.”
“I think you might be. I think you’re secretly a giggler.”
“Just like I secretly want my toes sucked?”
“Oh, really?” He lifts my foot up and I shriek with laughter, trying to tug down the hem of my dress as it falls past my knees. “You’re not ticklish, are you? Sensitive feet?”
“No, you could do whatever you want to my feet.”
Max’s smile fades. “What about the rest of you?” His hands move to my ankle and slowly up my calf, holding my gaze the entire time.
His fingers feel amazing—kneading and caressing—and ripples of sensation race up my leg as he continues upward.
How far up will he go? Because right now… “That’s a… sensitive area.” I inhale sharply as his fingers press behind my knee.
“I’ll have to remember that.” I hold my breath, conscious of the sudden ache that wants him to continue up, past my knee, onto my thighs…
“You’re very good at this.” I watch Max with eyes half closed, praying he can’t read my mind. Despite the good, I’m not convinced Max is a good idea.
Or rather, I don’t think I’m a good idea for Max.
He likes to play. He needs to have fun, and I’m not that person. Work is my life, and it’s been too long since I’ve had anything else that I’ve cared about, that I don’t think I’d know how.
“I’m very good at a lot of things,” he says with a promise heavy in his voice.
“I’m sure you are.”
“Maybe I can make you sure.” I open my eyes to meet his dark gaze, so like melted chocolate. I might drown in his gaze. “If that’s what you want.”
“I’m not used to getting what I want,” I confess in a soft voice.
“You should be. Always. You may be doing me a favour by being here with me, but I want this to be amazing for you. A life-changing weekend.”
“You think you can change my life?” I can’t stop the hopeful note in my voice, even though I don’t want my life changed. I don’t need anything else—I have everything.
Except someone to share it with.
