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“Now you’re straight-up lying,” she snorted.
“I’m not! I can tell there’s love all up through this turkey spinach wrap.”
“I’m seriously regretting inviting you over. I can see now that I’ve made a huge mistake.”
His answering laugh exposed his neck, long and imperfect with the big red birthmark on one side. She wanted to lick and suck and bite. Was she going to have even a single moment’s reprieve from being coiled tight with arousal around this man?
“If you didn’t invite me over, who were you going to force to rub your feet after lunch?”
Her head snapped to him, eyes narrowing instantly. “What do you mean?”
“You said you were crampin’, right? I’m not so presumptuous as to suggest a belly rub, but Gram always says that a good foot rub can make your whole body feel relaxed.”
Could she handle that? His hands on her? She knew some people did, but she’d never thought of her feet as a place she derived tons of pleasure from. But with Walker, she was sure she could get wet with so little as the stroke of his pinkie on her calf. Her mind conjured images of her feet in his hands, his thumbs digging, fingers massaging. She saw herself, moaning on the other side of the couch, completely shameless in her pleasure. The real her, the one sitting next to Walker with a belly full of potato chips and a contracting uterus, shuddered at the thought.
But she wasn’t strong enough to turn him down. She just hoped she had enough self-control not to moan like she was having an orgasm while he touched her innocently.
“I suppose a foot rub can be your payment for the free lunch and the pleasure of my company.” Her voice came out shaky and uncertain. “As long as we can watch my show while you do it.”
“What show?” he asked dubiously.
“The Bachelor.”
Walker’s audible distress made her cackle.
Ten minutes later they’d cleared away the dishes, pulled up the latest episode of The Bachelor on the DVR, and were sitting on the couch with Aja’s feet in Walker’s lap.
She remained a little tense, worried that if she moved her toes or ankles, she’d accidentally brush against his crotch. And that would definitely be more than she could handle.
“Cute little toes,” Walker cooed, lightly flicking the back of her big toe. “I like the white polish. It’s sexy.”
She raised an eyebrow at him but stayed silent.
“What?” he defended himself. “I can’t help it. I find most parts of you sexy. The toes come with the territory.”
She’d already known being around Walker was going to be a lesson in restraint. But how in the hell could she exercise that restraint when he made it so hard… and wet… and aching?
His thumbs rounded the heel of her left foot the second she pressed play on the TV. The touch was light, soft, helping her relax as he continued the treatment around the edges. He didn’t apply much pressure until he got to the arch, pressing his thumbs in enough to make her hiss quietly.
“You know, I never understood this show,” he said, eyes going back and forth between the screen and her feet in his lap. “All the dudes seem boring as hell. They have, like, no charisma.”
“They’re not that bad. I mean, they’re definitely not the types of guys I’d go for, but I think that’s the point. This show is like the supreme escapist fantasy for some people. A bunch of conventionally attractive white-bread women vying for the attention of a conventionally attractive white-bread man. Whoever the guy chooses, whether you were rooting for her or not, she always fits the mold. She’s always exactly who you expected.”
His mouth turned down as he thought about it. “You don’t strike me as the kind of person who’s interested in that particular kind of escapist fantasy.”
“I’m not, usually.”
“So why do you watch it?”
“As ridiculous and slightly offensive as I find it most of the time, it’s still addictive. You watch one episode, and you can’t stop. You need to see it through to the end.”
“Eh, I feel like I’ll be all right,” he frowned, sending his fingers between her toes. “Reality TV has never really been my thing.”
She predicted that it would only take him a few minutes to get sucked in and she was right. The season was only a few episodes in and featured a bachelor named Carson, a dentist with dark-red hair and a penchant for sarcasm. Walker’s mouth remained slightly open as he watched, still managing to maintain steady massage strokes.
“He’s goin’ to send her home,” he said definitively as the show cut away to a commercial. The bachelor had been on a dinner date with Bianca, a brunette candidate with a bright smile and a generous amount of cleavage.
“How could you possibly know that?”
