Page 21 of Bound By Fate
“I’ve got this. You can go,” I told him again. Exhaustion was nipping at my heels, and with Remy sleeping, the bed in the spare room was calling my name. “I’m just going to go to bed.”
His brows raised. “Or we could do that.”
A blush crept across my cheeks. “Not that.”
“Come here and sit down. You look like you’re dead on your feet.”
I was. Horribly. Hence why I wanted to go to bed. Not stand here and play whatever the heck this was with Dryerson.
“I am. That’s why I need sleep.” Even as I said the words my feet were taking me closer to him. Now in reaching distance, Dryerson pulled me down to the couch and maneuvered us in a way that he was at my feet, my legs resting on his thighs.
“Wanna watch Trolls?” he asked as he picked up my left foot and began to massage it.
I started to jump up, yelling, “No Trolls!”
He chuckled and stopped my movements. “I’m just kidding. Lay down.”
Slowly, I did as he asked and settled into the couch. His hands began to kneed and roll. He took great care with the instep, and I felt myself groaning a lot. Magic. That was what this was. His hands were full-on magic.
Closing my eyes, I paid no attention to what was on the television and just felt. Felt his strength. Felt his warmth. Felt him. And it was magnificent.
He switched to the other foot, and I enjoyed the bliss. That was until he started talking. I should’ve known this would be an ambush. Darn it.
“Now that I have you alone…”
I groaned, opening my left eye to squint at him. “Really? You’re going to ruin this beautiful moment with talking?”
He chuckled. “We talk the more I rub.”
That was a Devil in disguise, but I didn’t care. My feet were terribly sore, and he had magic hands. “Fine. What do ya have for me?”
“Don’t sound so excited,” he responded, laughing.
“I have a feeling it’ll be something I don’t care to talk about.”
“But…” He started. “If I’m rubbing your feet, you might care just a bit for me to keep going, right?”
“You’re blackmailing me with a foot rub?”
Dryerson’s smile was beautiful. “Yep. You up for it?”
No. I wasn’t up for it, but I could see how long I could hold out before the ‘talking’ took a turn I didn’t want to go on. I could always get up and go into the bedroom. It had a lock on the door.
“Sure. But start with the soft balls.”
His brows lifted again. “You know baseball.”
It was my turn to smile. “No. Just heard that a soft ball means a light question. Not pressing.”
“I’ll agree to that.” And he did. “First question. I know you’re the oldest, but how many brothers and sisters do you have?”
I groaned. “You’re gonna make me do math right now? That’s just not fair.”
“Yep. How many?”
Each time I counted them in my head, I got a different number. How terrible of a sister was I? “Thirty-three or so.”
“Shit. You have so many you don’t really know? That’s nuts.”
