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I didn’t give her a chance to pull away. I knew her feet had to hurt after being on them all day, and I was sure there was other shit that had happened to her throughout the day.
“Ryan, no way. My feet are disgusting,” she objected, shaking her head violently.
The kids ignored us, fixated on whatever was on the television, but those blue eyes I had apparently never stopped loving went wide in shock.
“Your feet are perfect. Even after a full day of…” I tilted my head to the side, raising a brow. “What is it you do all day?”
Her lips turning down into a frown had me backpedaling a bit.
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, I know.” Her pink tongue darted out, swiping the sauce off the corner of her mouth. I tracked the movement, willing my dick not to respond, but it was like a flag being waved in front of a bull; Bexley had done amazing things with that tongue in the past.
“It’s just…today was hard, like on a different level hard. I’m so tired, and all I want to do is go home, take a bath, and pretend I don’t have to go back tomorrow.” Her muted golden hair shifted back as she threw her head against the couch.
I rubbed the insoles of her feet over her socks, and suddenly this urge to take care of her took root somewhere deep inside my belly. My stupid mind that had been imagining scenarios lately conjured up this domestic picture of what it would be like if Bex were my wife and she’d just come home from work. It went further, dreaming up ways to care for her and make her feel loved.
I leaned forward, gripped the plate in her hand, and gently set it aside.
“Come on.” I took her hand into mine, pulling her up from the sofa.
“Where?” She let out a little squeak as I lifted her into my arms, bridal style.
“Bath. Pajamas. Bed,” I muttered, jogging upstairs.
“No, I’m not—” Her hands went to my neck, the warmth zinging through me as our bodies connected. Thank fuck she couldn’t feel how hard I was getting.
“You are,” I cut in, forcing my thoughts to more platonic places.
“Ryan, no way. Come on, cut it out.” She patted my chest.
“I’m serious. Check out this tub—it’s huge and there are jets.” I pushed open the door and padded in along the slate floor.
“What about the kids?”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on joining you, if that’s what you’re asking,” I joked, setting her down on the edge of the tub.
Her face flushed pink as she situated herself into a better sitting position.
“I didn’t think that…I just didn’t want you to have to watch them for any longer.” Her gaze lifted, clashing with mine.
Ignoring how wrong it felt to have her talk about watching her kids like they were an obligation or job, I leaned over and started the tap.
“There are bubbles on the side there, candles too. I’ll grab you some clothes.”
“Ryan, I don’t…” Bexley started, pulling her hair over her shoulder.
“What? What other excuse did you want to give me?” I took a step back, putting my hands on my hips, getting frustrated by how much she was fighting me on this.
That pink tongue came back out, wetting her lips. I was two seconds away from doing something we’d both regret.
The reddening in her face intensified, stretching down her neck as she cleared her throat.
“Nothing…thank you for offering to let me take a bath.”
“You’re welcome. I hope you remember this feeling of gratitude, because when you get out, I’m massaging your feet.”
I turned to leave, hearing a lilt of laughter blending in with the sound of the water rushing into the tub.
