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It was startling to be above him, looking down. She felt the wrongness of it in her bones. This wasn’t how things should be between them. She should be the one on her knees.
The thought made her flush and choke. Good, this was going well.
But she’d learned a lot from her mother about how to be a stone cold bitch and she employed that attitude now. No need for stupidly handsome Jethro Del Bosque to know he made her insensate just by existing.
Sable pushed back her shoulders, turned up her nose, and said, “I’m leaving. I trust you can finish sweeping without supervision.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. If he laughed at her she was going to expire.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his tone playful. And god wouldn’t she like to play with him?
Instead she gave a crisp nod and turned on her heel. She realized too late that it would make her skirt flare out, and fuck. Would he be able to see her underwear from his vantage point? To be fair, it was covered by tights, but still, he’d be able to see them. Cool, she’d never be able to look at him again, that was fine. It’s not like she’d run into him several more times this week at other events. Oh, wait, she totally would.
Fuck my life.
“Sable?”
She stopped in her tracks, closed her eyes for a long moment before turning slowly to face him with a single arched brow. “Yes? Did you change your mind? Do you in fact require oversight to complete this menial task?”
Jethro stood from his crouch and strode toward her. The way he moved was like a predator, practically stalking her in a way that made her mouth go dry. And that was before he sank to his knees in front of her and looked up at her again. This time with a cocked brow of his own.
“Your boot’s untied.”
Before she could move, he gathered up the thin laces from the black leather mid-calf boots she was wearing and tied a quick, neat double-knot and tightened the other one.
His big hands rested on her foot for a second and she could feel the heat of them through the leather.
What would it feel like to have those palms on her skin? Skimming up her calves, fingers dancing over the backs of her knees before gripping her thighs and eventually slipping into her underwear to find her wet and swollen? Just the thought made her nipples tighten into hard points and her sex pulse with arousal.
She needed to get out of here and away from him before she fell at his feet and begged him to take her.
“Thank you,” she snapped and whirled around again.
His call of “Have a good night. Be safe,” followed her out the door as she yanked her coat on. She had to lean up against the frozen bricks just outside to catch her breath.
Damn Jethro Del Bosque, damn him to hell.
