Page 4 of Not Safe for Work
“And what conclusions did you come to in your head?”
“That I can’t imagine a person like you agreeing to wear a pair of high heels.”
“It’s black brogues for men. Which I can see is significantly less annoying than you’re finding those torture devices currently on your feet.”
“They are literally hell on earth.”
“Then take them off.”
She shook her head, teeth sunk deep into her lower lip.
Her feet were throbbing and throbbing and throbbing away inside their leather prison.
“I can’t do that,” she said.
“Not even when he isn’t here?”
“He probably had pressure detectors installed in the soles.”
“And if he has, you can blame everything on me.”
“I could never. Come on, I could never.”
“Not even if it were actually my fault?”
He raised one eyebrow, which was bad enough on its own.
But then to cap it off, he sank down onto one knee.
He reached for her right foot in a way that made her cheeks flush.
“Honestly, you don’t have to do that,” she said.
Only he was already there. He slipped her shoe off.
And in response she tried her best not to sigh.
“But I’m guessing it feels good when I do.”
“So good I kind of want to kill you.”
“Then you want me to stop?”
“If you stop, I will kill you.”
But thankfully, he didn’t test her on that. He started on the other foot. One hand lightly pressed to her suddenly wildly sensitive ankle, the other easing off that perfect Prada heel, slowly this time, and with a kind of deliberation she wasn’t prepared for. That deliberation made her hold her breath. It made her flush hot all over.
And even hotter when he looked up at her.
His eyelids were incredibly heavy, and the eyes beneath had turned a deep and burning black. Though it was his mouth that really knocked the wind out her sails. That curving upper lip had lifted even higher, giving her just a hint of his teeth. Maybe a flicker of his tongue, slick enough that it sent a little thrill through her body. Then he spoke, in a voice that shook her down to the bone.
“Any other rules you want me to help you break?” he said.
And someone else seemed to answer instead of her.
“The jacket might be nice.”
“Ah, yes, the rule about always keeping it on.” He nodded, but it was not the nod she paid attention to. It was the way he stood and started undoing the buttons. Slow again, as he carried on saying all kinds of things. “That was one of the first rules I refused to follow, you know. I would come in without one on and feel brazen, like the most daring person alive. Watch his expression seethe beneath the glacial coldness. Those frosty eyes of his suddenly white-hot.”
