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The lightning flashed bright in the room, illuminating her profile as she tucked herself into the corner of the couch. In the dim light of the room, her eyes were liquid and dark, leveled right at me while she tried to gauge what was happening. I fought the urge to blurt everything out, but deep in my gut, I knew letting it unfold slowly was better.
“Do you want to start a movie?” she asked, pulling the blanket up over her legs, covering most of her chest as well. Which was good for my sanity, if I was being honest.
I shrugged between bites of ice cream. “I’m not the one with control of the remote. That’s you, boss,” I pointed out.
Her lips curled around the spoon, which she aimed at me after she cleaned it off. “That is a new nickname I can get behind.”
I held her gaze. “You’d miss it if I stopped calling you angel.”
The low timbre of my voice had her blinking rapidly, and she dropped her eyes, taking another bite of the ice cream. When she glanced up again, she watched me with a curious twist to her lips. Thunder rumbled outside, but the sound was farther away, the storm moving past us slowly. The rain hadn’t abated yet, and the consistent pattering on the windows made the room seem smaller and more intimate than it would have been during the day.
“You left without saying goodbye on Saturday.”
Ice cream gone, I set my bowl down and hummed, stretching my arm along the back of the couch, leveling my gaze to hers steadily. “I did.”
“Even Cameron didn’t know you’d left.”
“Your brother is really dramatic when he feels left out.”
She laughed. “I just wish I could’ve thanked you for all your help.”
I dropped my hand, nudging her knee where it was tucked up against the couch underneath the blanket. “I’m right here.”
Poppy ducked her face down, drawing up an edge of the blanket to cover her mouth. Which was a fucking shame because I could stare at her lips all day.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, playing with the edge of the blanket with the tips of her fingers. “We got so much done. I still can’t believe it.” Then she groaned. “My feet do, though. It’s been a couple of days, and they still hurt.”
Knowing full well it was a bad fucking idea and might derail my entire plan, I slid my hand down and tapped her ankle.
Her brows furrowed. “What?”
I angled one leg toward the back of the couch and settled one of the eighteen throw pillows in my lap, easing her legs forward until her heels rested on the pillow. Carefully, I pulled the first slipper off and tossed it onto the floor, followed by the second.
The room was so quiet, I could hear the thud of my heart in my ears. Maybe she could too.
“Jax, no, you don’t have to,” she started, then stopped when my thumbs dug into the arch of her foot, her head lolling back onto the couch with a groan. “Never mind,” she moaned. “Keep … keep doing that, please.”
My lips curled into a faint smile, and I pressed my fingers in deeper, pushing along the ball of her foot. I used both hands on one foot for a few minutes, watching the flickering reactions on her face when I’d hit a particularly tender spot.
The silence in the room was punctuated by her slight shifting on the couch, and she sucked in a breath when I moved to the other foot, dragging both thumbs down the arch.
“Oh,” she breathed. “That’s good.” Poppy rolled her lips between her teeth, like she was trying to keep her reactions quiet, and I questioned the sanity of telling her to stop doing that, stop holding it in. Telling her I wanted to hear everything.
I clenched my teeth and pushed my thumbs back up, pressing into the balls of her foot, rolling in small circles to relieve the tension. Orthattension, at least.
The other one would have to wait.
I was hard as a fucking rock from touching her feet. Months without sex would do that to a guy, apparently. Or maybe it was just because it was Poppy. Because I was in so deep and no desire to be anywhere else.
I wrapped my palm over the top of her ankle to hold her leg in place, and the moment my fingers brushed over her ankle bone, I noticed the shift in her breathing. The blanket shifted down, and my mouth went dry at the curves on display.
“I have an idea,” I said evenly, dragging my thumbs firmly down her arch again, using pressure from where I held the top of her foot, watching the rise and fall of her chest.
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, almost unable to lift her lashes.
“We should play a game.”
Her eyes snapped open, her whole body going still. “What?” Poppy pulled her feet back toward her as she sat up, the blanket pooling in her lap. “What game?”
