“That’s a thing?”
She tipped the screen so he could seeFalling for the DemonandDealing with the DemonandDemon Barista.
“Huh,” he said, eyeing the sexy shirtless men with bat wings and demon wings.
“Yours are hotter, of course,” she said.
“Okay, point taken,” he said, though she could tell he still didn’t believe her. “But neither of us knows what I might get next. This time it was wings. Next time it could be tentacles.”
“Tentacle romance,” Fen told the phone.
“That’s not a real—” Carter began, then broke off as the screen filled up withCraved by the KrakenandThe Billionaire’s Tentacles. She made sure he got a good look, then began paging down. She was on book twelve ofEnsnared by Tentacles (Ensnared by Tentacles: The Tentacle Sea Captain’s Blushing Bride)when he finally said, “Okay, okay. But everything you’ve showed me is fiction. It’s fantasy.”
“Yes,” said Fen. She took the phone and put it down on the side table, then stood up and pulled Carter to his feet. “And now I’m going to show you something real.”
She knelt down and took off his shoes and socks.
“I always thought feet were a bit gross,” she said. “Dirty, you know. Not sexy-dirty, literal dirty. Prone to toenail fungus.”
“Hey!”
“That was before I got acquainted withyourfeet. Yours are surprisingly sexy. Strong.”
“Yours are unsurprisingly sexy,” he returned. “Do I get to take off your shoes, if you’re taking off mine?”
“If you like.”
He pulled her up, then knelt in turn and removed her high heels, cupping her feet as he did so. He had big hands and she had smallish feet, so he could almost envelop them, doing an all-over foot massage in a single hand. “Yours are beautiful. Kind of sculptural, with those high arches. And I like your tiny toes. They’re cute.”
“My toes are proportional,” she said with dignity.
“Tiny and cute. Can I take off your stockings?”
“Stockings and underwear, please.” She extended her legs to him, one by one, pointing her feet like a ballerina. His touch along her legs made her shiver with pleasure.
“I like your legs,” he said. “They’re so graceful. Like a dancer’s. Did you ever dance?”
“Not formally. My parents enrolled me in ballet lessons when I was a little girl, but I was a disaster. I didn’t like it so I stomped around like Godzilla until the teacher suggested that I might do better with something with fewer rules, like hip-hop. That was the end of dance lessons.”
“I hate your parents,” said Carter. “I hope they didn’t ruin all dancing for you.”
Gratified, she said, “No, I do dance sometimes. At clubs. At parties. I’d dance withyou. Stand up.”
He stood, and she took off his pants, then his boxers. “Your legs are excellent. Nice and lean, but still muscular. Like a runner’s. Do you run?”
“Sometimes. Not seriously.” His breath was hitching, as if her gaze was a physical caress. “Can I take off your blouse?”
“Blouse and bra, please.”
He lifted off her blouse, put it on the sofa with the other discarded clothing, and reached around her back and undid her bra by feel. Of course Carter, with his clever fingers, would never fumble with a bra.
“Your breasts are beautiful. I can’t see them without wanting to touch them. They’re like pink pearls. And your nipples are like buds in spring.” His gaze traveled lower, but not as low as she’d expected. “I love your belly.”
“Really? It’s so poochy.”
“I love that it’s poochy. It means you’re a real person, Fen Kim, not an airbrushed picture in a magazine.”
She could see in his eyes and hear in his voice how sincere he was. He loved every bit of her, even the parts that the world said were flawed.
