“You’re looking at my feet,” she said, not accusing, just stating.
He gestured toward her foot. She hesitated two seconds, then nodded.
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.
“To be held. To be massaged. To be admired without apology.”
“Most people are blind,” Marco replied. “May I?”
“Stay,” she said. “Tell me why you love feet.”
She extended her left leg, slowly, until her foot rested in his lap.
He started to rise. Ivy’s bare toes brushed his wrist.
Ivy laughed softly. “And what’s it asking for?”