surprised to find him watching her intently, the lines of his face stark. His expression gave nothing away, yet she shivered all the same.
His big hands held her foot steady. “I won’t do anything against your wishes, but you cannot bowl in these shoes. If you don’t turn an ankle, you’ll damage the wood.”
She swallowed, unsure. Casting a glance at Rye over her shoulder, she was relieved to see the driver was reading a book, not paying attention to her and Mulligan in the least. What was the harm in removing her footwear? Did she really wish to refuse and cut the evening short?
No.
“You’re right.” Removing her own shoes while still dressed was near impossible, but she had to try. She stretched forward as far as her corset allowed, sucking in to reach her laces.
“Wait.” He waved her away. “Will you allow me?”
She dropped her arms. This was silly. He was asking to remove her shoes, not her drawers. She tried to relax. “Yes, please.”
He shifted her skirts to completely reveal the boot, while the rest of her leg remained covered. Graceful fingers plucked at the knot at the top, undoing it. Then he began to unlace the strings. The muscles of his forearm shifted as he worked, and she couldn’t take her eyes away from that patch of skin. Veins and tendons moved under skin that was lightly covered in dark hair. For a man steeped in the city’s underworld, he certainly had long, capable fingers that were surprisingly gentle.
He slid the string out of the eyelets, left then right, left then right, loosening her shoe. His free hand held her foot steady. It was so . . . intimate. Warmth slid through her, building behind her sternum and sliding into her stomach. Then lower, between her legs. Every inch of her felt restless and on edge, excitement coiling in her limbs. The more laces that were undone, the more she was undone.
Her eyes drifted to the sight of his strong thigh encased in dark blue wool. The fabric molded to his leg and she could see he wasn’t rangy or thin. No, he was solid. Powerful. Impressive.
Sweet mercy, why was that so arousing?
When the laces came loose, he dragged her boot off gradually, as if he didn’t wish to rush the process. Was he enjoying this, too? Her stocking-covered ankle came into view, then the top of her foot. Finally her toes. They both held perfectly still, silent, as the boot hit the ground.
Neither of them moved. It shouldn’t have felt so extraordinary—it was merely her foot, for heaven’s sake—and yet it did. The sheer silk stockings hid nothing and she could feel the heat pouring off him under her leg. She had the insane desire to slide her silk-covered toes all along the slope of his inner thigh. Then even higher . . .
Oh, Lord.
That shouldn’t sound so delicious.
She closed her eyes in an effort to collect herself. Without warning, the backs of his knuckles brushed her instep. She sucked in a breath, her lids flying open, as tingles trailed in his wake.
He froze, his hand in midair. “Have I hurt you?”
“No.” She tried to sound casual but most likely failed.
“I apologize.” He lifted her foot and placed it on the ground. “I got carried away. I shouldn’t have touched you.”
Some wild urge prompted her to blurt, “I didn’t mind.”
Don’t stop.
Touch me.
Lick me again.
The thoughts came lightning fast as a flood of wanting crashed through her.
He picked up her other foot and brought it to his knee. “You shouldn’t encourage a man like me.”
“What do you mean, a man like you?”
“A man who can be ruthless when he sees something he wants.”
She couldn’t think of anything to say. Was he hinting that he wanted her? Or that he might want her? It was maddening.
What man wouldn’t angle to have you at his mercy?
He made quick work of her second boot, then put her foot down and straightened. She wiggled her toes against the wooden floor and watched him through her lashes. After toeing off his shoes, he strode to select his own bowling ball from the rack. He wore blue silk socks that matched the color of his trousers, his feet long and narrow. How . . . fascinating.
When he turned, he put the two bowling balls on the wooden track at their lane. Then he swept his arm out. “Ladies first.”
Eight pins tumbled to the back of the lane. Rye hustled to gather them while Justine