Page 33 of Wild Devotion
“I pictured you as more of a comedy or drama fan.” I dragged my thoughts back from her mouth, her words, and the way her legs had extended closer to me.
“I like those too, as long as it’s good.” She trailed off as the movie pulled her attention.
I ignored the movie and watched her instead.
The low light played across her features, sharpening her cheekbones and pooling shadows under her jaw. But the light wasn’t responsible for the flush on her cheeks or the white-knuckled grip of her hands in her lap.
“You’re missing the good part,” she murmured.
“I’m not missing a thing.”
When she jumped at a scare, it jolted me back to the screen. She was right, the movie was genuinely creepy. Disturbing kids, old film reels, and a gruesome ending. But when the final credits rolled and I turned to gauge her reaction, she was already watching me.
This time, she didn’t look away.
“Well?” She shifted to face me, her legs stretching out, her toes almost brushing my thigh. “What’d you think?”
“It was good.”
“Good? Just good?” Her bottom lip pushed out. “You didn’t think it was scary?”
“It’s a movie. Fake blood, visual effects, a made-up story. Hard to be afraid of something that isn’t real.”
“Some of it’s real.” Her voice dropped. “Death is real. You have to admit, that’s scary.”
My jaw tightened. “I’m not afraid to die.”
“Come on, Caleb.” She half-laughed, but it sounded strangled. “Everyone’s afraid of death, at least a little.”
“Not even a little. Death is inevitable. It’s life that scares me.”
She searched my face, looking for the joke.
“Not life itself,” I said. “More like missing out on it. It’s easy to forget what a gift it is. One wrong choice, one missed opportunity, and you’ve wasted the whole thing.”
“Trust me,” she whispered, her expression cracking. “I know.”
“Besides… I’ve already died once. It wasn’t that bad.”
Her mouth fell open, and her gorgeous, big doe eyes went wide. “Seriously? I knew you had a story.”
“Maybe another time. One scary story per night is my limit.”
“I’ve seen the movie three times and it still makes me want to turn on every light.” She drew in a shaky breath, her hand trembling as she smoothed her hair. “Although, I doubt it’s what’s going to keep me awake tonight.”
Everything about her was pulling me in. The flush crawling up her neck, the way she kept shifting on the couch, the unsteady rhythm of her breathing. The heat in her eyes that she was trying so hard to pretend wasn’t there.
I reached down and took her feet in my hands.
She went still. Completely still. Like a deer who’d just heard a branch snap.
I pressed my thumb into the arch of her foot and dragged it slowly across her sole.
She didn’t pull away. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a sigh escaped her that sounded like surrender.
So I pressed harder. Moved from her toes to her ankle, my fingers grazing the smooth skin above it. Stroking slow, intentional circles. Savoring every inch of soft skin under my touch.
She let out another sigh. At least, it started as a sigh. Then the soft exhale turned to a low, quiet moan.
