He didn’t grab. He didn’t lick or moan like some bad script. He simply cupped her heel in one palm, traced the line of her metatarsals with a fingertip, and pressed his thumb into the sore spot near her instep. A perfect, professional pressure. Not sexual. Tender. Like he’d studied her feet from across the room for an hour and memorized every tension line.
Ivy didn’t know what to say. Most men stared at her chest or her legs. Marco was staring at her feet. Specifically, her bare left foot—the slender arch, the pale coral polish, the faint imprint of her sandal strap. Love Her Feet - Ivy Lebelle - The Cable Guy -05...
Outside, the sun dipped lower. Inside, a different kind of connection was being wired—one no remote control could navigate. He didn’t grab
Marco smiled—the first real smile of the afternoon. He wrapped both hands around her foot like it was something precious, and for the first time in weeks, Ivy Lebelle felt her body relax completely. A perfect, professional pressure
“You’re looking at my feet,” she said, not accusing, just stating.
Ivy raised an eyebrow. “You an orthopedist now?”