On Display (A Shoe Obsession Erotic Short) by Marie Carnay Page B

and walked toward her, reaching
out his hand. “Yes. Dylan Williams. I own the store.”
    “Mandy. Mandy Hawthorne,” she replied as she
slipped her free hand into his. His fingers wrapped around her hand
and held her, a momentary embrace as they looked at one another.
His smile softened his angular features and lifted his thick brows,
exposing eyes that crinkled and warmed as they searched her face.
Stubble a week old hid his tanned, copper skin, and his lips—all at
once pouty and luscious and beyond kissable—made him everything
Brad was not. And a whole lot more judging by his grip. She
tugged—a tiny yank—and he released her, letting her fingers slide
away from his in a smooth caress.
    “So … like I said. Can I get you
anything?”
    Mandy smiled, a flash of white lighting her
face as she raised an eyebrow in question. “These boots? In a size
seven?” She waved the boot in front of her as she gave Dylan her
best pretty-please smile. “Please? My toes are frozen. And
drenched. And I just have to try these on.”
    Dylan looked down at her feet and let out a
low whistle. “Did you walk through the gutter to get here? What
happened to your shoes?”
    Mandy looked down at her shoes, the red suede
blotched and warped, the rain dripping onto the floor. “I walked
here from my office … in the thunderstorm outside … with an
exceptionally bad choice in footwear.”
    “Here, sit down. I’ll get you a towel. And a
bag for your shoes.” Dylan waved to a couch in the middle of the
room.
    As she took off her coat and sat, the
butter-soft leather wrapped around her thighs. “Where on earth did
you find a green Chesterfield?”
    “Oh, I’ve had it for years. A friend of mine
runs a furniture business. I traded her free shoes for the sofa
when I opened the store.”
    “Wise decision. I’d sit here and try on every
shoe you have. It’s wonderful.”
    “Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
    Mandy nodded as Dylan turned towards the
back. She watched as he walked away, noticed how his gabardine
pants hit all the right places and the muscles in his legs flexed
beneath the wool. His dress shirt barely hid shoulders no day job
at a shoe store could manage to create. And as he slipped behind
the cash register and into the back, Mandy let out a trapped
breath. He must spend hours at the gym. I can only imagine what
he looks like naked.
    She closed her eyes and leaned back on the
sofa, her head coming to rest on the tufted back as she poured over
the image of Dylan in her mind. All that tanned skin hiding under
his professional clothes, all that buzzed dark hair screaming for a
hand to run through it. He’s exactly the type of rebound I need.
Remind me why that lazy excuse of an ex-boyfriend isn’t worth my
time. Too bad we’re in a shoe shop and not flirting at a bar. Mandy shifted on the couch, crossing and re-crossing her legs as
his body filled her imagination. She undressed him in her
mind—sliding his shirt off his bronzed shoulders, undoing his belt
buckle.
    As she began to slide his imaginary zipper, a
hand slipped off her soaked shoe and she jumped upright. “Oh!” she
exclaimed as Dylan smiled at her. He crouched in front of her,
slipping off her ruined shoes and sliding them into a bag on the
floor.
    “You startle quick. I thought you’d fallen
asleep. And you need to warm your toes before you get frostbite.
They’re almost blue.” Dylan picked up a towel and wrapped it around
Mandy’s feet, the warmth sending shooting pain up her feet and into
her legs.
    “Ouch! That’s hot,” she said as she tried to
pull her feet away. But his hands wrapped around her, dwarfing her
ankles with his grip as he held her still. She couldn’t budge if
she wanted to.
    “I warmed the towel. You need to dry out and
heat up. Just relax. The pain will stop in a minute.”
    As she sank back into the couch, Dylan’s
hands began a gentle rub—a rolling of the towel over her
feet—sharpening the pain but warming her toes