Page 63 of The Christmas Wife

He bends as if to lower me to the floor.

"No, no, please no." I pout, "Don’t do this. Don’t leave me out here alone." Max whines to punctuate my words.Good boy.

He glares at me. His shoulders seem to swell. The full force of his dominance seems to weigh down on my shoulders.

I gulp, "We…Weston?"Crap, why is my voice trembling?

"You owe me, Buttercup." His voice is low, hushed.

"Can… can we go in?" I shiver.

He frowns, then jerks his gaze away and in front. Whew. The breath shudders out of me. I glance forward as he steps inside the house. He walks into the living room. It’s silent, the space lit by the flames from the fire.

He glances around the space, his muscles tensed. I look up at the jut of his jaw. The hair covering his face seems thicker. Jeez. Do his whiskers multiply by the hour or something? Isn’t that asign of virility? At this rate, he’s gonna have a Santa Claus beard by the time it's Christmas Day. And he can take me across his knee anytime. I snicker, and he looks down at me, catching me off guard. Heat sears my cheeks.

"What were you thinking?" he growls.

"N…nothing."

"Don’t try that. I know exactly when your thoughts turn X-rated."

"Huh?"

Max grumbles in his throat.

"I think you can put us down now," I manage to say.

He stares at me a second longer, then stalks over to the cushion in front of the fire. He lowers me down to it. Max wriggles in my hold. I place him on the floor and he stretches, yawns, then patters off toward the kitchen.

"Well, he seems okay." I clear my throat, the adrenaline fades away and my limbs tremble.

"Hmm."

"Should we take him to the vet?"

Weston straightens. "Let’s watch him tonight, and if he shows any signs of trauma tomorrow, we can take him then. I think he just had a fright."

"That’s a plan." I yawn so hard, my jaw cracks. My eyelids seem heavy all of a sudden. "Sorry,” I mumble. “It hit me all at once, I think."

He peels off the socks from my feet. His fingers brush my ankle. I shiver. He runs his fingers up the heels of one foot, then the other. Goosebumps pop on my skin. "What are you doing?" I say, breathless.

"Making sure you didn't cut yourself."

"I'm not hurt," I insist. I tug on my foot and he releases me.

"You should take off your loafers." I say.

"Excuse me?"

I glance down at his feet, "Uh, you're dragging in the snow from outside, not to mention the glass pieces from the shed."

He frowns, then retraces his steps to the door, toes off his shoes. I stare at his beautiful feet... beautiful naked large feet. My throat closes. My belly flutters.

I had no idea I had a foot fetish, until I met Dr Grumpy Pants Kincaid. Hell I had no idea I had a fetish for other male parts either... Notallmale parts... Onlyhismale parts. My belly flutters. My throat closes. Bloody hell. Clearly, I am obsessed.

"Why don’t you wait here?" His voice cuts through my thoughts.

I tip my head up to meet his gaze, and warmth laces my cheeks.

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