Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back (Leanne Castillo) novel Chapter 349

Leanne gazed at him, dazed and confused, not understanding his intentions, until Curtis' large hand enveloped her foot, his warm palm pressing against her sole. Instinctively, she recoiled.

Curtis tightened his grip, holding her firmly as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "What are you afraid of?"

"It tickles a bit," Leanne admitted.

The corner of Curtis' mouth twitched upward in a subtle smile, and his tone was lazy yet laced with an emotion hard to decipher. "Oh? Others don’t make it tickle, but I do?"

His wrists were lean, the veins beneath his skin accentuating the rugged power of his masculinity, contrasting sharply with her delicate feet.

Leanne felt uncomfortable, her mind overpowered by his presence, managing only a feeble protest, "No one else has touched them."

"Is that so?"

Curtis' voice was light, almost breezy, but beneath that feigned tranquility was a stormy darkness more violent than a surfy sea.

From a young age, Curtis harbored a fierce protective instinct toward Leanne, his sister in name only. No one else could touch her. For what he once did not understand, he then knew it was not just protectiveness but a possessive desire.

Foot massages were usual, especially after a long day at work. It was nothing out of the ordinary except that Curtis felt the urge to break the hands of anyone else who touched her.

There wasn’t a single part of Leanne that wasn’t beautiful. Even the shape of her ankles was exquisitely delicate.

Curtis' fingers, as smooth as polished marble, traced around her protruding ankle bones, sliding from the back to the front of her foot, the sensitive area causing her toes to curl like bashful mimosa leaves.

He massaged her soles in a way that was more teasing than therapeutic, intentionally avoiding traditional pressure points and focusing instead on the spots that elicited the most intense reactions from her.

Leanne squirmed under the ticklish sensation, her struggles growing as she tried to kick him off. "What are you doing? Let go..."

But she couldn't escape.

"What’s the matter? Don’t you like massages?"

Curtis’ eyes were deep and intense, and he watched her furrowed brows and tightly pursed lips. "Does it feel better when I do it, or someone else does?"