Page 29 of Warrior's Captive
“You’re tired? I thought we could go out to eat?”
“You’re hardly in the mood for it,” she snapped. “And spending an evening walking on eggshells around you isn’t my idea of recreation.”
Tai’ri furrowed his brow. “Why would you crush eggshells at my feet?”
“What do you—oh.” The translator must be borking again. She really needed to learn the language manually. “No, what I meant was, I can tell something is bothering you, and I don’t have the energy to watch my words.”
His expression cleared. “You don’t have to watch your words.” He paused. “I—it’s hard to separate from work some days. Today was rough for reasons.”
Ah. Vivian relaxed, and even felt a little embarrassed. Of course. And he certainly wasn’t used to having to come home and shed his work skin for the sake of another person.
“I see. I’m sorry.”
He reached up, brushed her bottom lip with his thumb, gaze unflinching. Her mouth opened lightly as she inhaled, the moment stretching between them.
“I’ll be more careful about not bringing work home with me.” His voice was soft, an impossibly gentle caress . . . but the darkness lurked, now warmed with heat.
“I—I’m sorry.” She kept apologizing, and she didn’t even know what for. All she knew was that sometimes, when he looked at her like this, her breath caught in her throat and she forgotwhyshe was supposed to feel broken.
He stood. “If you’re sorry, then come to dinner with me.”
Vivian nodded. “Let me change into something less loungy, though.”
“You look fine, but I’ll wait.”
* * *
Vivian eyed the shoes with something close to despair. She’d misplaced her slip-ons somehow and hadn’t yet figured out how to get House to locate them. These alternatives were lovely, and totally impractical. Someone had thought adorning heeled booties with little hooks and laces was a good idea. She couldn’t bend forward enough to even reach her calves, much less her feet.
The first day she’d spent in Tai’ri’s home, a flood of packages had arrived with selections of shoes, clothing, undergarments, cosmetics. Everything in her size and suitable for late stage pregnancy. She wondered if he had just picked a pre-assembled wardrobe package because everything was ruthlessly matchy, and with pieces she’d never need to wear—like business attire and formal wear.
A light tap on her door gained her attention. “Come in.”
Tai’ri entered and stopped, surveying her as she sat on the edge of her bed. He didn’t often come in her room.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Figured you’d be awhile since my sisters always like to fiddle, but I was hoping against hope.”
“I’m dressed.” The coral colored maxi dress was a comfortable fabric, but pretty enough for a restaurant. She’d brushed her hair back in a pony tail and slipped beaded earrings into her lobes. “It’s just the shoes.”
“That’s easy.” He strode forward and knelt at her feet, taking a bootie in one hand and her ankle in the other. “My mother used to go barefoot when she was carrying her babies. Said it was simpler.” His touch was light, fingers cool against her ankle. Her foot jerked.
“That tickles,” she said, clearing her throat when he looked up quizzically. Her skin tingled where he touched hers, and the marks on her arms crawled.
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. He stroked the top of her foot with a single fingertip; it felt like a caress, but innocent enough for deniability. Then he said, “You have lovely feet.”
Well, definitelynotdeniability then.
Vivian took a few seconds to make sure her voice was even. “Thank you. They’re just feet.”
Tai'ri's gaze brushed her face for a second, inscrutable, but then he put the shoes on her feet and fastened them.
He stood. “These are stupid shoes for a pregnant female. Weren’t there any flats in the stuff Bey ordered?”
“I lost them.”
“Hmm.” He eyed her. “We’ll get you some slip-ons while we’re out. Do you know what you want to eat?”
“Food.”
