Page 62 of Double Fault

With a growl, I yank my phone from my pocket and navigate to Instagram. I search for Elias and flip through the images he’s posted tonight. There are several, and it’s obvious he’s out celebrating, but Sabrina isn’t in a single one.

The door chirps and eases open, and I spin around, alert and ready.

Sabrina still looks incredible. The dress just about made my heart stop when I saw her this afternoon, and her curly hair is a beautiful wild mess I want to bury my fingers in.

Relief fills me at the sight of her, the sensation so potent I audibly exhale.

Her eyes widen at the sound, and she scans the room. “What are you still doing up?” The words are a whispered exclamation.

“Waiting for you.”

She shuts the door quietly behind her and takes a single step into the room. “Wow. Behaving like an overprotective dad, I see.”

My hackles rise at the sass in her tone. “I am an overprotective dad.”

A menacing smile curves her lips. “But you’re not my daddy.”

Eyes narrowed, I cross my arms over my chest in a move that’s defensive more than aggressive. “Sabrina.”

With a grimace, she bends down and yanks one shoe off.

“What’s wrong?”

“Blisters.” She winces. “I’m not used to heels.” With a hand on the wall for balance, she carefully removes the other one before tiptoeing her way to the couch.

“Hang tight. I have something for those.” With one finger in the air, I dash for the bathroom. I flip on the light and dig through my toiletries bag for the ointment I swear by, then search for Band-Aids.

When I have everything I need in hand, I join her on the couch. She’s lying down, elbow crooked over her eyes.

I slide onto the cushion and lift her legs gently.

As I rest them on my lap, she lowers her arm and eyes me with a tired, skeptical expression.

I apply the cool ointment to the blisters on the back of each heel, and when they’re thoroughly coated, I cover them with the bandages.

“Keep messing with my feet like that and I’m going to expect a foot massage.”

With a smirk, I dig my thumb into her arch and circle it. “Like this?”

She moans, the sound sending blood straight to my dick. “Yes. Oh yes. Don’t stop.” She bites her lip, eyes closed. “I should’ve ditched the shoes hours ago, but I’m stubborn.”

“Really?” I cajole. “I hadn’t noticed.”

She rises up from the couch only enough to swat at my arm.

“Careful,” I tease, stopping my ministrations. “I don’t have to rub your feet.”

“Fine.” She settles on her back and drapes that arm over her eyes once more. “Are you going to tell me why you were waiting up for me?”

I clench my teeth. “Do I have to?”

“Considering there’s only one child in this hotel room and you’re not it, yes, I’d prefer if you acted like an adult.”

Sighing, I fix my attention on her foot, digging into the arch. Rather than come out with it, I go with a different, more cowardly approach. “Did you have a good night with Elias?”

“No.”

A thrill shoots through me. “I’ve heard he’s a terrible lay. I’m sorry.”

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