Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“I do.” I run my fingers up and down his tight muscles, focusing on his shoulders again.
“I understand."
He does?
"It's hard to do this alone. I'm in the same boat."
No, no, no. This is getting way too personal. I do not need to know that Ricco is a single dad.
“Are you? I’m sorry.”
"Don't feel sorry for me," he says, while I work the tight muscles of his neck. “We only got married because our families needed us to. She was a good mother, but we weren’t lovers. Martina was my friend and nothing more.”
Wait, what? In the modern day, who marries because their families needed them to? How odd.
They weren’t lovers?
It fills me with relief that he says he wasn’t in love with his wife while at the same time something in the back of my mind shouts a warning.
From the very minute I first laid eyes on Ricco, I knew that he had a criminal vibe. I've been trying to imagine how I could take pictures of his tattoos so that I could look them up, as if maybe one of them is the Latin symbol for criminal?
Jesus. But I haven't been able to do any sleuthing. The truth is, I want to keep him as my dream man. I don’t want to shatter any illusions.
Ricco’s still face down on the table when he asks, “And you? Were you in love?”
His body tenses beneath my hands.
“At one point, I was,” I say simply. I don’t know him well enough to tell him any more. To tell him the love between me and my husband had died a long time ago.
"Did you marry for your family, too?"
I laughed. "No. My family couldn't have cared less. I married because I thought I loved him, but he was a lot more in love with money, power, and himself than anything or anyone else. He wouldn't travel, worked all day every day, and wouldn't spend a penny of his goddamn money."
"God, I fucking hate that."
“Same.”
I massage down the length of his back, tracing the edges of his tattoo. Wishing I had the boldness to ask him more.
"So, tell me. If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?"
"All over the world," I answer quickly, because I’ve thought about this a million times. “I want to take a cruise on the Mediterranean, ski the Swiss Alps, ride a boat in Venice, eat sushi in Tokyo and climb the Andes in Peru. I want to travel everywhere."
“You know how to ski?”
“Well, no, but…. I mean, there are lessons, right?”
His shoulders shake with his low chuckle.
"Sounds adventurous."
"Easy on paper, isn’t it?"
"Yup. Do you like outdoor activities?"
I shrug. "I mean, does chasing a child who escaped the playground count as an outdoor activity?"
"Of course," he says with a grimace that tells me he knows this pain all too well. “One could argue it’s an Olympic sport. What about hiking, biking, things like that?" he asks.
“I'm not sure you noticed, Ricco, but I am not in the best shape."
He turns his head and snaps his eyes to mine. "You shouldn't say such things about yourself."
Heat pinks my cheeks. "I'm only stating the truth."
I pause with my fingers still on his back, his eyes boring a hole in mine.
"You shouldn’t say things like that about yourself. You're curvy. Stunning. Sexy.”
Curvy.
Stunning.
Sexy.
Wait, what?
I need to change the subject. I’m glad he’s turned his face back down because my cheeks are on fire.
But I can’t think of a single thing to say. I focus instead on his back and shoulders.
“You’re so tight,” I whisper. “You’re carrying even more than the last time you came in here, Ricco.”
When he doesn’t respond, I continue the massage. I rub oil in my hands and spread it over his bare back and down his ripped arms. I let the warmed, scented oil seep deep into his skin. I relish the way he relaxes under my touch.
“Why Venice?”
“I’ve read it’s one of the top ten places to tour in all of Italy. I love the adventure of it, of traveling by boat instead of traditional ways. Plus, I heard it’s beautiful.”
“It is.”
“You’ve been?”
“I’ve been all over Italy. I only just got back a short while ago.”
“I’ve been right here.” I shift my focus to his lower back next. “I’ve never left New England. The furthest I’ve ever gone from home is Vermont.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “I’m ready to spread my wings a little. Maybe learn to fly.”
“Literally or figuratively?”
I smile to myself. “Both.”
“You deserve both.”
Can a man hit on a woman just by sending her emotional-understanding vibes? Because I am so there right now with him.
I swallow. “Thank you. So do you.”
There go those cheeks again.
My phone vibrates with a text.
“Ugh, I’m sorry. I usually silence that when I’m with a client.”
“You’re a mom. Makes sense you wouldn’t. Go ahead, take it.”