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Desire hangs heavy in the air, an unspoken tension that can't be ignored. The massage unfolds, our connection deepening until boundaries seem almost nonexistent, replaced by an intoxicating attraction.
“I wasn’t intentionally hiding anything from you.” He lowers his voice. “It’s that I’m trying to figure out where to begin.”
I nod and walk to the side to gather the warmed stones for the next part of the massage.
“Why’d you stop?” he asks in a tone that makes me think he’ll spank my ass if I don’t pick up again soon.
“I’m just getting the stones.” I don’t know much about Ricco, but it’s already clear to me that he’s intense.
I like intense.
Here, in the studio, as my hands work their magic and the light smell of orange-tinged vanilla fills the air, as I become aware of his body relaxing under my touch, I find my groove. My hands begin to move as if orchestrated with a magician’s wand. When I’m here in my studio, I’m not Dani Martinelli, a curvy single mom who forgets to submit school lunch forms and has a work-life balance that’s damn near wobbly, at best. I’m not depressed because of how incredibly exhausting it is to be a single mom with a very small support system, self-medicating with Ben and Jerry’s and reality TV. I’m just… me. Dani.
“Is that too hot?” I ask, laying the steaming hot stones across his lower back.
“Feels fucking amazing,” he groans. “What’s next?”
What’s next, indeed, handsome?
“You are welcome to personalized consultation, aromatherapy, and targeted muscle treatment if you’d like.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“All of it?” I ask, trying not to see his response as dollar signs, but as a struggling business owner, I’m tempted.
“All of it. Is this table heated?”
I want to say “duh, you’re on it,” but I don’t. “It is. It has an integrated heating element which heats the table mildly as to enhance muscle relaxation. Do you like that?”
“Mmm. I do. And no personalization for now, this is perfect. You were right—the shoulders are my trouble area.”
“Excellent.”
I continue to massage in silence, and at one point I even note that he looks like he’s fallen asleep. It isn’t out of the ordinary for clients to sleep when on the table.
But then he shifts and stretches, lifting his muscled arms up over his head.
“Now we’ll take a break, Mr. Montavio. You may have a cup of hot tea or snack, or just relax until it’s time for the next step.”
“I’m fine. Let’s continue.”
I open my mouth to argue, but I know instinctively he’s not a man that likes to argue.
Interesting.
I want to push a little.
“The experience can be heightened if you take regular breaks, Mr. Montavio.”
“I said I’m fine, Dani. And my name’s Ricco. My father was Mr. Montavio.”
Montavio…Montavio…why does that name ring a bell?
“Would you like a warmed towel to clean up with, then?”
“Please.”
It feels like a dream as I go through each move, each step of the process. My hands move as if they’re intuitively following the lines of his back and shoulders.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he says, still facing downward, his muscled, tattooed back relaxed under my ministrations. I feel his deep sigh of content down low in my belly. I swallow hard and lick my lips.
“Glad it’s helping,” I say softly. “You need to take care of yourself. When you have responsibilities, it matters.”
“Do you take care of yourself, Dani?”
Even though he isn’t looking at me, it’s almost as if he’s staring right at me, as if he can read my mind.
“I try,” I say with a self-deprecating snort that ends in a sigh. “Some days I do better than others.”
I pay particular attention as I use the warm towel on the oil on his back, then do another final round with the stones.
Too soon, our time together is over. I reluctantly withdraw my hands, my fingers lingering on his tattoos. Our eyes lock, and his hunger mirrors my own.
“That was fucking amazing.”
A deep thrum of something half erotic, half fear-laced excitement courses through me.
My heart beats faster. “Thank you.” I swallow so I can gather up the courage to do what I know has to come next. “May I book you a follow-up? It’s far more effective than a once-in-a-while session.”
Please book a follow-up.
“I’m definitely coming back, but I don’t know when.”
I do my best not to let my disappointment show. “You’re welcome to come back anytime.”
“Thank you.”
And then he’s gone. The door swings shut behind him, and I almost feel betrayed, like I wanted the door to hold him back before he left, likely never to return.
CHAPTER THREE
SECRET ADMIRER
Ricco
I knew I shouldn’t have come. I knew that if Sergio or Timeo or any of the men of the Brotherhood knew what I was doing they’d do everything to stop me. Because now that I’ve met her… now that she’s touched me with those gentle, sensual hands of hers … now that I’ve seen her up close, I need to see her again.
