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I was too tired to ask him what he was doing, and the next thing I felt was a warm, soothing liquid dripping onto my skin. Then I felt his hands slowly spreading it around the places where the swelling hurt the most.
I moaned as his fingers massaged my soles, said his name as his fingers caressed every tender spot.
“Shhh,” he whispered, rendering me speechless as he continued to soothe me.
Every few minutes, he looked back at me and asked, “Would you like me to stop?”
I shook my head and kept my eyes shut, relishing every moment of this.
After what felt like hours of bliss, after he’d given me the best foot massage I’d ever had, he climbed in bed next to me and pulled me against his chest.
“Goodnight, Aubrey,” he whispered. “I hope you feel better.”
Elated, I threaded my fingers through his hair. “You’re not going to insist on taking me home tonight?”
“Not unless you keep talking.” He growled. “Go to sleep...”
“Thank you for the foot massage…That was really—”
“Stop talking, Aubrey.” He rolled me on top of him. “Go to sleep.”
“I was just saying thank you. I can’t say thank you?”
“No.” He pressed his lips against mine and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe, saying, “Don’t make me f**k you to sleep,” in between breaths.
I attempted to roll over, but his grip was too strong.
Smiling, I positioned my head against his heartbeat and whispered, “Can you hear me? Are you sleeping?”
No answer. Just deep, sleeping breaths.
I hesitated a few seconds. “I love you…”
Foreseeable Risk (n.):
A danger which a reasonable person should anticipate as the result from his/her actions.
Andrew
“Jessica!” I glanced at the slightly normal looking cup of coffee on my desk.
“Yes, Mr. Hamilton?”
“Could you ask Miss Everhart to come in here, please?” I needed to see her face.
She’d been avoiding me all week, and if all I had to say was “sorry”—whether I actually meant it or not, it was worth it. I missed seeing her seductive mouth in the mornings, remembering how it felt when she pressed it against mine.
“I would do that,” Jessica said, “but seeing as though she put in her resignation letter last week, I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”
“She quit?”
Without telling me?
Jessica raised her eyebrow. “She did. I gave you the letter she left, too. It was quite interesting.”
“I never got a letter.”
She walked over to my desk and sifted through the clutter.
