Put Yourself In His Shoes Novels & Stories

Bullshit. “Hey, asshole in the black leather overpriced shoes. I said I need some damn help over here!” The shoes stopped and turned on their heel to face me. Walking towards me slowly and casually, like I wasn’t hanging on for dear life, the leather shoes stopped in front of my window. “You can see me,” he said, obviously not in a rush to come to my rescue. “Of course, I can see you. That car crash didn’t blind me.” Annoyance was bubbling inside of me and I fought the urge to reach out and grab the man by his leg.

His voice stays low and even— "That's it. Just let it out. I've got you." "I'm—" Heave. "—ruining—" Heave. "—your shoes—" "They're just shoes." "They're Italian." "They're leather. They'll clean." "They're—" Another wave. My knees buckle. Kyle catches me—arm around my waist, hauling me back against his chest, holding me upright when my body wants to collapse. "—they're expensive." "I don't care about the shoes, Mia." His hand rubs circles on my back. Slow. Patient. Each circle a little wider than the last, spreading warmth across my spine. "I care about you. Just breathe."

“I’ll take this down for you.” I nodded as I allowed him to lead me back to the sofa, making me sit. He crouched down and then touched my feet. My eyes widened in surprise as I looked from my feet to his face. “What are you doing?” He pulled the shoes off before looking at me. “What do you think this is?” He exhaled and stood up, still holding my gaze. “It’s just so you don’t trip when you try to move again. I only stared at him more confused than I had ever been. “You sure have a lot of free time today.”

But pushovers don’t bark out orders like that. He ran a hand over his face and cringed. “Sorry. What I meant was to suggest you stay where you are. You don’t have shoes on and there have to be splinters.” I looked down at my feet, just now realizing I didn’t have shoes on, and he was right. Lincoln extracted his foot from the jagged hole and inspected his jeans before straightening. “Totally fine. But your step’s not.” A giggle snuck out. He was so serious all the time.

He gives me a warm smile of which I cannot decipher its meaning, his eyes say something deep. Taking a few steps I reach the bed and sit with the aim of wearing my shoes. "Allow me to help you with those ''. He says pointing to my shoes. My hands pause their movement and I stare at him with confusion. He walks over and takes a seat on the bed making me adjust my sitting position as he places my feet on his firm thigh slipping my feet into the Jimmy Choo shoe he bought. He does the same for the other feet before setting them down. He stands up and helps me stand up.

He frowned. "But you can't do your shoelaces! Let me help you, Hunter." He got up and walked away, "Don’t. You don’t belong on your knees, not even for me." "I don't need to go on my knees to do this, Hunter. I'll bend down. Come and sit here." Hunter pretended like he didn't hear her and carried his shoes out in the bedroom. He plopped down on the bed and crossed his right leg over the left one. He had just pushed his foot in when she appeared again, trying to touch his shoe.

Fred warned. "It doesn't have to work right for the first time," I said in a cute way, pulling your shoes and socks. I was down for a while, pretending I was pushing his clothes and my dress into a corner, but in fact, I was already panting and tired. "And you don't have to make this moment stranger than it already is.”

When the waiter left, he leaned forward. “Look,” he said, his stormy gray eyes serious. “This is going to be hard. There’s a lot of… performance. But you don’t have to become one of them. Just… just be you. Just… maybe a version of you that knows not to bend the five thousand dollar shoes.” A small, reluctant laugh escaped me. It sounded weak. “Yeah. Okay. I can try that.” He smiled then, a real one this time, not the cool, smirk from the store. It changed his whole face. Made him look younger. Less like a billionaire and more like a person. “Good. That’s all I’m asking.”

Levy asked again this time trying to emphasise her question such that he won’t be able to ignore her but she seemed to have underestimated the shameless and stubbornness of the man, he looked at her with a smile that was not a smile and then said in a matter of fact tone, “ You clearly need a pair of shoes since the one that was given to you by a little birdie won’t go well with the dress you have brought which is a wonderful thing since I won’t have to burn the pair that was gifted to you, honestly burning shoes is much harder than clothes. I don’t need to tell you any further do I ? Or will you be needing my help in stepping out of the car like you did when getting in ?” He was reminding h

“Pass me my shoes.” She opened his closet that had clothes on one side and pretty much identical lines of shoes on the other. She took up the closest black shoes to her and brought it over to him. She set it down on the floor beside him but when she felt his gaze narrow into her skull, she stooped down, slipping both shoes onto his feet.