His eyes were closed, his bare feet resting on the end of the couch. She sat and placed his feet on her lap and began to massage them with some of the cocoa butter cream they kept on the coffee table. His feet were soft and she loved touching them, easing her fingers over the thick veins and the hard curves of his ankle bones. He reached for the remote and turned down the music to a background noise. “You have the magic touch.” Easing her knuckles along the arch of his foot, she pressed his toes to her belly. “Feel that?” “One of them is a real fighter,” he said, opening his eyes and sitting up. “Or maybe both. My turn. Pull up your shirt.” He dipped his fingers into the cocoa butter and smoothed them over her stomach. “Feel good?” “You’re so good to me, lover.” She tilted her head back. The man had magic fingers that seemed to ease every ache she had, and the touch always restored her energy.
