Page 62 of Token

“I meant what I said earlier. I’m sorry about what happened with what’s-his-name. I should never have taken the bait. You dumped him and he saw you with me, so of course he was upset.” One hand now rested on her bare shin and the other cupped the heel of her foot, his finger lightly stroking the soft flesh of the arch. “Now tell me what he said to upset you.”

He couldn’t seriously expect her to carry on a conversation like this. She’d never been so tense in her life. But short of removing her legs from his lap—which she was not inclined to do at the moment because it had been a while since she’d played with this kind of fire—what other choice did she have but to bite her lip, clench her thighs, and suffer the torture like any woman of free will was wont to do when an attractive man held her feet captive?

You can at least talk a good game.

“What do you think he said? He warned me about men like you.”

Nate didn’t appear at all surprised by her answer. “And what kind of man is that?”

“The kind who would use a girl like me,” she replied, remembering the sting of Aidan’s words.

Other than the slight tightening of his jaw, Nate’s expression remained unchanged as his palm lightly cupped the ball of her foot. “And what kind of girl are you?”

“I’m just a pretty face you’ll use and toss aside,” she stated blithely. As if the words hadn’t shaken her confidence and hurt her pride.

Nate’s eyes flashed with anger. “Screw what I just said. I should have kicked his ass when I had the chance. I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone with him.”

“No, I’m glad I talked to him. At least I know what hereallythinks of me.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him how race had factored into it, but she sensed he knew.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully,” he said, trapping and holding her gaze with his. “Don’t let anyone convince you that you’re just a pretty face. You’re much,muchmore than that, and if you don’t know it, I’d be happy to tell you until there isn’t an ounce of doubt left in your mind.”

Kennedy blinked at him as her stomach did that whooshing, dipping thing. She didn’t know what to say. No one had ever said that to her, and certainly not with such heartfelt sincerity. At least, no male who wasn’t related to her by blood.

“I don’t need you to do that. I know I’m more than a pretty face.” Her job had always been to convince other people of that, which was too often easier said than done.

Okay, he really,reallyneeded to stop touching her. She would stop him if not for the fact that it feltsogood and she was embarrassingly weak, something she’d pay for later when she couldn’t look herself in the mirror.

Oh, give it a rest. It’s your feet,an inner voice chided.

It’s my feet that I just discovered is one of my erogenous zones, thank you very much.

Having put the naysayer properly in her place, Kennedy continued, “Look, I probably made too big a deal about what happened with Aidan. He started it by needling you, and you gave as good as you got. It isn’t as if you were jealous or anything like that.”

Why did the latter sound as if she was asking a question and not stating an unequivocal fact?

The smallest of smiles ghosted his lips. “We know that, do we?” he murmured, quietly holding her gaze. Then he shifted his attention to the foot he held cupped in his palm. “You have such pretty feet. Pretty toes.” He paused, his eyes heavy-lidded when they met hers again, and he whispered in a throaty voice, “Pretty all over.”

Kennedy stared at him, eyes wide on a swift intake of breath. “Are you flirting with me again?”

On a scale of one to ten of stupid questions, that came in at a solid eleven. He’d left flirting behind five minutes ago. He was deep inseduce her off her feetmode, and currently halfway there.

In response, he pressed gently but firmly into the arch of her foot, startling a whimper from her throat.

“Tense?” Nate asked innocently. He slid his hand ever so slowly up her leg, his palm traversing her ankle, calf, until it hit her knee, where he briefly halted.

Tense? Turned on? Who could tell the difference anymore? “It has been a long night,” she said, doing her level best to stave off the choppy breathlessness creeping into her voice. “And either you’re trying to get me in bed or...”

“Or what?” he prompted, his fingers drawing circles on her knee, setting off sparks of pleasure.

Kennedy swallowed with difficulty. “That’s when you’re supposed to cut me off and tell me I’m mistaken and that you’re not trying to seduce me,” she admitted. Even if he didn’t mean it, he should have said it so she wasn’t the only one keeping up the pretense thatthis—his hands on her and her doing nothing to stop him—wasn’t happening between them when it most definitely was.

That smile again, and it landed where it had the first time he’d turned it on her: right between her legs. He peered at her from beneath a thick veil of dark blond lashes. “If I were, how am I doing so far?”

“As if I’m going to tell you.” It was good she still had a sense of humor about it.

As if to make a point—and torture her into willing submission—his hand resumed its journey, this time up her thigh, momentarily skirting the hem of her dress.

Kennedy instinctively clamped her legs together—tight—trapping his hand between them. For a second, neither of them moved, as if both had been startled by the action. The sight of his hand between her legs was both intimate and scorching hot.

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