Wobbling from my room, I used the wall for support. The steps of the helical stairwell were uneven stone, but I took my chances. My ankles throbbed from the sudden pressure I was putting on the heels. I nearly fell when I made it to the second floor. Pushing off the wall, I stumbled into a hard body.
My fingers spread wide against a pair of muscular forearms. I winced as my right ankle rolled enough for a toe to slip free from the strap holding the others down. Large hands wrapped tightly around my elbows to hold me steady. I looked up into the intense green eyes of James. He scanned my body.
“Going for a new look?” His voice was deep, tone teasing.
“What are you doing up here?” I quickly yanked my arms back and took a step away. It was the dumbest question to ask.
James’ arms dropped to his sides. “He was my friend long before he was yours,” he said. “It wasn’t just his brother I grew up with.”
Nodding, I kept my lips firmly shut and lowered my gaze. James’ stare lingered. I waited for him to grow bored, as he normally did, before entering the room. A small crowd had already formed inside, excited voices drifting into the corridor.
“Odd thing to distract Daniel with as his brother comes to,” James said.
I shook my head, eyes widening. “I’m…that’s not…Bristol said I should practice…”
James’ lips curved upward. “And now you’re stuck in them.”
My shoulders slumped, and I mumbled a defeated, “Yes.”
It took James’ grip on me tightening before I realized neither one of us had let the other go. He guided me backward, my steps becoming frantic as walking forward in heels was already difficult enough. Slowly, he guided me into the turret, where he helped lower me onto the steps.
It felt as though my heart had jumped into my throat, my saliva turning thick as my breathing threatened to quicken. James crouched in front of me and immediately frowned.
“Who designed these? Satan?”
I looked at the silver bands laced around my calves. The elegance now felt like a prison, and Bristol wasn’t there to explain how to escape.
“I thought they were pretty,” I murmured.
“They are pretty,” he agreed, just as softly.
Oh, so he can compliment a shoe’s appearance, but not mine. Noted.
His fingers traced one of the rigid silver spirals, and he added, “They’re also engineered like a medieval torture device.”
The firm design hugged the shape of my leg so closely that they couldn’t simply slide off. Removing them became a slow process of unwinding each section individually. Every time his knuckles brushed my calf, a strange tension tightened in my chest.
His hand wrapped around my ankle to steady my leg as he loosened the top. I immediately stiffened. He was crouched so close that the crown of his head nearly brushed my knee. The stone beneath me felt cool, yet heat kept creeping higher across my skin.
Unwinding them one at a time, James carefully worked each silver coil free. Every turn exposed another strip of smooth skin. By the time he reached my ankle, I was gripping the edge of the step.
James slid one hand beneath my heel, the other remaining around my ankle as he slowly worked to slip is free. The stiletto slipped away first, followed by the delicate silver strap across my toes. The moment my foot was free, he paused. I didn’t dare move. He hesitated before clearing his throat and setting the heel aside.
“You seem awfully invested in a shoe,” I whispered.
James paused. For a second, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he glanced up, his gaze lingering on my bare legs before returning to the other shoe.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. His fingers tightened slightly around my ankle before he looked back down. “More than I should be.”
His response drew a gasp from me, but he didn’t acknowledge it. I had never experienced a man removing my shoes, but I was confident it wasn’t supposed to feel this way. At one point, he seemed to growl, the sound climbing the turret before he shook his head, as if annoyed. After removing the second shoe, he set it beside the other, then looked up at me.
I flexed my feet against the floor, muttering, “Thank you.”
“Mmhm.”
We stood at the same time, though I found myself shrinking around him.
“You want these back?” James lifted the heels by their tortile straps.
“Not really,” I admitted. I tried making a joke of it to break the tension. “It’s not like I have any reason to wear them.”
James’ eyes darkened. “I can think of a few.”
My lips parted, and his gaze instantly dropped to them. I took a step back, breaking free of the stairwell shadows and entering the dull light of the corridor.
“Go on, then,” he said, nodding in the direction of Arron’s room. “I’ll wait my turn…like always.”
He turned without waiting for a response, the heels dangling from his grip as he headed up the helical stairs. I swallowed, brushing at my clothes for no reason other than to give my hands something to do as I worked to calm my nerves.