He gave me a look, showing that he didn’t believe me. Not even a little bit. And he was right. My palms and knees burned and by the trickling liquid feel running down my leg, I had an awful suspicion I was bleeding. Plus, there was my shoe—still stuck.
He took a step back, his eyes roaming over my body, finally landing on my stupid, expensive shoe. “Are you stuck?”
I casually tried to twist the heel out. Maybe if I relaxed, the hole would loosen its grip.
Nope.
If anything, I managed to make it more stuck.
“A little,” I confessed.
Vann’s lips twitched with the urge to laugh. “Can I help?”
A frustrated sigh escaped my lips before I could temper it. “Sure. I guess.”
That look was there—the one that called me on my bullshit. But he didn’t say anything. Instead he dropped to his knees, his warm hands wrapping around my calf and ankle.
My core clenched as warmth spread where his hands moved over me. I cleared my throat, hoping he didn’t notice how his touch was making me react.
He tugged on my leg and my ego was somewhat soothed when it didn’t immediately release. His hand moved up to the back of my thigh, the other one sliding down toward my ankle. I held my breath, trying to ignore the contrast of his gentle touch and rough, calloused palms.
He looked up at me and smiled. “It’s really stuck.”
I blinked at him, taking in the way the sun caressed his dark hair, and sharp angles of his face. I wanted to reach down and brush my fingers over his cheekbone. “I’m aware,” I said instead.
“Hold on to me.”
“What?”
“I’m going to tug it out, but I don’t want you to lose your balance again. So, hold onto me.”
“O-okay.”
I did as he commanded, resting my hands on the tops of his broad shoulders. He did some magic with my shoe and leveraging my leg and this time when he tugged, my heel popped free.
The momentum of it propelled me forward, despite my loose grasp on Vann and I started to flail again. He managed to catch me by grabbing a tighter hold on the backs of my thighs and steadying me.
And there we stood for several long moments. Me standing above him, my hands now gripping his muscular shoulders. Him, on his knees, his arms hidden beneath the skirt of my dress, his hands clutching the backs of my thighs, just below my bum.
My mouth dried out and my entire body flushed. But it wasn’t from embarrassment.
This man and his touch and the intimate way he looked at me, did things to my resolve. Things that hadn’t been done in a long time.
“You’re bleeding,” he murmured.
“What?”
“Your knees are bleeding.”
I shook my head, coming back to my senses. “Oh.”
“I can help with that.”
Our gazes had locked, the heat from his licking its way over my body, erasing my embarrassment and building a fire within me. “What?”
“I can help with the bleeding,” he repeated. His hands squeezed my thighs for the briefest moment before he stood up and took a step back. “I have a kit in my office.”
“A bleeding kit?”
