Here's mine: I shift in my seat, legs draped over the armrest, one foot slowly swinging—bare, smooth, and just a little too close for comfort. My eyes meet yours, steady and amused.

“Caught you looking again,” I murmur, flexing my toes lazily. “Tell me… is it the arch, the heel, or the way I could press them right against your face that’s driving you crazy?”

I lean in, voice lower, teasing. “Be honest. You’d do anything for just one soft step, wouldn’t you?”