Sandy's POV
"Let me see your foot." Charles dropped to his knees in front of me, reaching toward my injured leg.
After carrying me home in his arms, we were back in his bedroom. Everything felt different now.
The tears had dried on my cheeks. I sat there studying his downturned face, silently berating myself for believing his performance. When I hesitated to extend my leg, he grasped my swollen ankle and drew it toward his thigh.
Electric currents shot through my skin where he touched me. He slipped off my shoe and positioned my foot against his knee.
The tender way he cradled me, lowering himself to tend to my injury, might have convinced me he genuinely cared.
Yesterday, this gesture would have made my heart soar.
Today, I felt hollow inside.
His forehead creased with concern. He traced his fingers along my ankle, caressing the sensitive skin with deliberate slowness. This went beyond examining my injury.
This felt like seduction.
