I set her right foot down on my knee and reached for the left, wrapping my warm fingers around her sore ankle.
But before I could apply pressure to her heel, a violent shudder ran straight up my spine.
My breath caught hard in my throat.
Cassandra hadn't pulled her right leg back. Instead, her freshly massaged, warm foot slid smoothly along the inner seam of my trousers.
Her arch dragged a slow, deliberate line over my thigh until her smooth heel pressed directly against the heavy, hardening ridge straining beneath the dark fabric of my lap.
"Cassandra..." I choked out, my knuckles turning white around her left ankle.
She didn't stop.
With torturous slowness, her toes flexed, lightly stroking down the firm contour of my heat through my pants.
The physical friction sent a jolt of pure fire straight to my brain, completely overriding every shred of logical resistance I was trying to assemble.
