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“Nice,” Oliver comments, looking around at our spacious kitchen. “Food and drinks shouldn’t be a problem anymore.”
“Which leaves us free to focus on our princess,” says Simon, wrapping his arms around me.
Even though I’m wearing high-heeled shoes, I still have to rise on my toes to kiss Simon.
Pulling me closer, he claims my mouth.
Heat rushes through my veins, making me melt against him. Closing my eyes, I drown in the kiss while Oliver tinkers in the corner.
“Are your feet still hurting?” Simon asks as he breaks away.
“Yeah,” I groan. “I need to sit down and take my shoes off.”
“Here,” Simon says, pulling a chair closer to me.
A moan escapes me as I finally sink into the chair. Relief spreads through both my feet and back.
Simon kneels before me and before I know it, he’s prying the shoe off my right foot.
“You don’t have to do this!” I say hurriedly, pulling my feet away.
“It’s okay. Let me help you,” he says, grabbing my ankle gently.
He takes off my shoes and brushes a light finger over the red welts that’ve appeared on the pale skin from the tight straps.
“Do your ankles hurt too?” he asks.
“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’ll be fine after I rest for a while.”
Simon remains on his knees. Picking up my left foot, he gently massages my ankle and calves.
His warm palms are like a balm to my aching muscles. Soft moans escape me as pure comfort and relief spread through me.
“Look what I found,” says Oliver, walking over to us with a big grin.
“Oh no,” I say, chuckling. “You found Heather’s scotch. She’s going to be so mad when she finds it gone.”
“We’ll buy her a new bottle later,” says Oliver. “She’s going to love us for it.”
“You’re evil,” I say, laughing and shaking my head.
“This is some good stuff,” he says, taking a generous swig from the bottle. “Aah! This istheshit!”
“Hey, let me try,” Simon says, getting to his feet.
Ignoring him, Oliver takes another sip.
Simon glares at him. “Asshole.”
“Fine,” Oliver mutters, thrusting the bottle in his hand. While his brother takes eager sips of the scotch, he settles down at my feet.
Taking my left foot in his hands, he presses his thumbs into my heel. “How does this feel?”
“So good,” I croon, feeling so relaxed I almost doze off.
Simon hands me the bottle of scotch and positions himself behind me. “Relax, darling,” he says, massaging my shoulders.
Heat seeps from his fingers, lighting my skin on fire. My body relaxes further under his touch, making me wish the three of us were in my room instead of the kitchen.
