Chapter 28
Tessa
After a moment of digesting my almost reflex response of “yes, Gio,” he moves with intention straight to my calves, rubbing them with pressure.
His firm touch is perfect, coaxing the ache in my muscles from a roar to a dull groan.
As his fingers press deeper, I’m not thinking about the pain in my calves anymore.
In fact, all the blood in my body is rushing somewhere else.
“I’m going to start low and give you the massage you need. Lean back,” he instructs, kneading the muscle behind my shin.
My body follows his command, and I do as he directed. I have no idea where this mutual burst of desire is coming from. Or do I? Maybe it’s been a slow burn from the day I pressed my fingers against his chest at his shop.
Sitting on the patch of grass with my legs extended and my arms behind me, I ask, “How are you so good at this?”
“Maybe because I know what you need, Tessa.”
My hips give a barely perceptible twitch as I fight the urge to lift them and encourage his hands to move higher.
Giovanni chuckles, his hands diligently massaging my lower leg, already lessening some of the ache. “The thought of you being in pain is…” He trails off, frowning, before looking directly into my eyes. “If you’re going to experience pain, Tessa, then it would have to be associated with pleasure.”
What the fuck is going on here in this Italian lust grotto?
I’m sure I still have a reason to dislike him, but I can’t seem to remember it right now.
I wonder how much higher his hands will go, focused entirely on the thought of him soothing a very specific ache of mine.
As Gio’s hands move in that direction, massaging above my knee, a groan escapes my lips and I snap my mouth shut.
Embarrassed, I turn my head to the side.
“You can make noise, Tessa. You don’t have to shrink yourself for me.” He moves his fingers an inch higher, sending sparks across my skin.
Any remaining inhibitions leave my body and become one with the countryside air as another moan escapes me.
“That’s it,” he whispers, moving his hand upwards, massaging closer to my thigh. “Yes or no?”
“Yes,” I manage, squeezing my legs together at his close proximity to where I want him the most.
“Bene.” His gaze moves from my thighs to my face.
“You have some dirt on your face. Here.” He takes off his shirt, which seems slightly unnecessary for a little dirt, but—holy shit, he’s so sexy.
Strong arms, broad chest, and so much softness around the middle I could dig my hands into.
He’s just so substantial. He tosses his shirt my way, and I wipe my cheek with it.
“On your elbows for me.”
It takes me a minute to absorb the direction.
He peels up the bottom of my leggings, and removes my socks and shoes one by one.
For a moment, he stares at me. His gaze starts at my feet and moves slowly up my legs in admiration until he reaches my inner thighs, where his eyes linger.
A bead of sweat falls from his brow as he mutters something in Italian.
It’s only now that I realize I’m still a bit sweaty from the bike ride. Even though the shaded cave area has cooled me off, I reluctantly sit up and place a hand on his hand. “I’m, um, sweaty. You shouldn’t rub my feet.”
Gio cocks an eyebrow. “You think I’m afraid of a little sweat?”
He picks up my foot and starts rubbing it, and I can’t help but scoot closer to him. When I do, he smiles.
Gio continues massaging me for a few minutes, his gaze traveling to my eyes, my lips, my breasts. His eyes linger on my chest for a moment, and I think maybe he will move his hands higher.
Instead, he suddenly shakes his head and abruptly removes his hands from my body, muttering something in Italian before asking softly, “Do you feel better now?”
Physically or emotionally? I want to ask. Physically, my muscles feel looser. Emotionally, I’m wound tighter than ever. A new thought appears in my head every minute. Did he massage me so we’d have an easier ride home? Or did he massage me because he wanted to touch me?
“Don’t overthink the question, Tessa. I’m simply asking how you’re feeling.”
“I’m… good.” I reach for the bottom of my leggings.
“Let me,” he interjects, sliding them back down to my ankles.
Giovanni puts my socks back on one by one, followed by my shoes, even tying them for me.
I stand up on shaky legs to pull myself together, and he joins me.
We both bend down and start getting ready to go.
He rolls up his T-shirt, which is definitely not wearable now, and puts it in his backpack.
I bite my lip, picturing the view I’ll get of his shirtless body on the ride home.
Giovanni places my helmet on my head and clicks the chin strap closed. “You think too much, Tessa.” He pats my helmet twice. “Let’s go.”
I mount my bike, briefly pondering what it would be like to mount other things.
Placing my feet on the pedals and pushing off, I think about our future.
The expiration date of our pretend relationship looms over me like a dark cloud, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m the only one who’s stopped counting down the days until New York.