Emmaline POV
"You're spoiling her."
My father's voice is flat, carrying that usual edge of disapproval.
I don't bother opening my eyes. Instead, I sink deeper into the leather seat, letting my lips curl into a knowing smirk.
Daelan's hands continue their slow, methodical work over my bare feet. His fingers knead into the arch, pressing just the right amount, sending shivers up my legs.
I barely hold back a sigh.
His touch is dangerous. It's precise—expert, even. He handles me like I'm some delicate thing, but I know better. His hands have killed before. They've slit throats, wielded daggers, carved paths through blood and fire.
But here, against my skin, he's gentle.
It's infuriating.
And completely addicting.
A deep chuckle rumbles from him, sending a prickle of heat down my spine.
I finally open my eyes and look down.
It's a mistake.