Wanton. Lori Foster

eyes bright, and a slight flush pinkened her skin. “My feet are sore. I’m not used to wearing high heels anymore.”

      He moved his thumb, gently brushing it back and forth over her small rounded chin. Her skin was so soft, he wanted to touch her all over, rub himself naked against her, feel that softness under him, accepting him. He took a steadying breath. “I’ll rub your feet for you.”

      Her eyes widened and she nervously blurted, “I want to make a deal with you.”

      One brow lifted high. He was about to tell her he’d stay and help her with the damn Barrington case, just so she could relax and stop being so jumpy, but now she had him curious. He led her over to the edge of the bed, urged her to sit, then knelt before her. He lifted one small foot into his hands, and as he started rubbing, pressing his thumbs into her arch, he said, “So? What’s the deal?” Her toes curled in his hand, making him smile.

      “I need your help if I’m going to be able to do any good with this case.”

      “Yes, you do.” He flexed her foot, heard her small groan and began rubbing each small, pink toe. She had nice feet, as intrinsically female as the rest of her. They were so small, so narrow and smooth and pale, they seemed swallowed up by his large rough hands.

      “I’ll…I’ll do anything you want if you’ll help me save Hannah.”

      His hands stilled. His gaze shot from her foot to her face and narrowed there. He didn’t say anything, not trusting himself to speak.

      Celia appeared to be holding her breath, her eyes round, the pulse in the hollow of her throat fluttering anxiously. When he only watched her, doing his best to keep his anger under wraps, she burst out in nervous explanation. “I know you think I’m not fit to do this work. You’ve done nothing but harp on me about quitting, about going back to the family business.” She paused, drew a deep breath. “Well, I’ll do it.”

      “It?” He couldn’t get his jaw to work, so the one-word question was whispered through clenched teeth.

      She nodded. “I’ll…I’ll go back. But only if you help me to help Hannah first.”

      The tension eased out of him by slow degrees. She wasn’t bartering her body as he’d first assumed. She’d agree to quit, to return to her old job where she’d be safe. It was what he’d wanted, what he knew would be best for her. Angel’s words echoed in his mind, making his muscles tense with guilt. She’ll need someone who understands and supports her. Very slowly, he released her foot and put both hands on her knees. Still holding her gaze, he gently urged her legs apart. Whatever Celia needed, he wanted to give it to her.