“It’s okay,” she whispered, cutting him off. She didn’t understand, not fully, but she saw him. The secret he’d carried, heavy and alone. She flexed her foot in his hand. “Show me.”Something broke in his face. Gratitude, hunger or desperate relief. His grip on her foot tightened, just for a second, before he lowered it. He shifted his weight off her, kneeling on the floor between her legs. The position was shockingly intimate and submissive. He looked up at her as his hands rested on her calves.“You’re perfect,” he confessed. His hands slid down to her ankles, then wrapped around her feet, pulling them toward him. He held them both, his thumbs massaging the balls of her feet, his fingers tracing each toe. The attention was dizzying. It wasn’t sexual in the way his fingers inside her had been. It was worship.He bent and pressed his mouth to the top of her foot. Then the arch. His lips were soft, his stubble a delicious scratch against her skin. He kissed the hollow beneath her ankle
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