“Put your hands on my shoulders.” “I’m fine.” “Pippa.” I sigh and set my hands on his shoulders before he slips my shoe on and buckles the delicate strap. “You’re surprisingly nimble.” I crook a grin at him, and as he looks up at me, something hot and smug flashes through his weird mood tonight. “I’m very good with my fingers.” My breath catches in my throat. He’s kneeling in front of me, big hand circling my ankle, telling me how good he is with his fingers, and I picture this scenario going in a very dirty direction.
