BREE’S POV
Gideon recovers first. He always does.
His gaze slides over, hiding a hint of genuine concern.
“Feet still killing you?”
“They’re fine.”
“You’ve been strapped into those heels since last night, darling. I am fairly certain your feet are officially drafting their own divorce papers.”
And before I can produce a single objection, he leans over and unfastens the straps of my shoes himself.
He pulls the heels off, catches my ankle, and effortlessly lifts my bare foot right into his lap like it is the most reasonable thing in the world.
My heart skips a beat at the sweet warmth of his rough hands against my skin.
“Gideon—”
“Relax, princess. I’m being useful. Savour it; it’s rare.” His thumb presses into the arch of my foot, a deeply satisfying pressure, and a moan slips out
