Page 46 of His Captive
I take a step back and nibble my bottom lip while he strips down to his swimsuit. Massimo looks like an Italian god, carved from a fantasy. Everything about him makes me quiver. I’d drop to my knees, pull his swimsuit down, and open my mouth without being asked—without beingtoldto do it. But I keep my urges to myself and sigh.
“You’re going to have to sit down.” I glance up at his broad shoulders. “Or get me a ladder.”
“Over here,” he says, walking to a chair and lowering himself into it.
“Perfect,” I say, stepping behind him and admiring his ink before I start applying the sunscreen. “Do all of your tattoos mean something, or do you just love getting them?”
“A little of both,” he answers, holding up his left arm. “Layla loved roses, so I got a lot of this for her. Our wedding bands had the same pattern as the tattoo on my hand and wrist.”
“Yeah, I can tell it was part of the design,” I comment, glancing at the outline where his wedding band used to be.
“I had my other arm done first,” he explains, showing me some of the designs. “If I wasn’t in Italy, I was in Vegas, so itinfluenced me a lot. The tattoos on my back are similar to the ones my grandfather had on his arm.”
“Grapes, wine, and…” I trace my finger around a design I don’t recognize. “What’s this? It looks like an old washtub.”
“Sorta,” he laughs. “We stomp the grapes in those.”
“Oh, right. I’ve heard of that.” I nod, moving my hands across his skin as I apply the sunscreen.
This could be the only time I get to touch him like this. He wouldn’t even let me put my hands on him last night. I guess he’sokaywith being touched, except when he’s in control. Either way, I’m not going to waste my opportunity. My hands linger much longer than necessary on his muscular back and broad shoulders, then I walk around him and start applying the sunscreen to his chest.
“Yeah, this is more your style,” I remark, moving my slick fingers across some skulls and other macabre designs that adorn his upper torso.
“A few days with me, and you think you’re an expert, hmm?” he chuckles, his abdominal muscles tightening when I rub the sunscreen on them. “Rowan and I got a lot of similar ink when we were younger. Skulls were more his thing, but I found a few designs I liked.”
“All done up here,” I say, squeezing more sunscreen in my hand and lowering myself to my knees.
I intentionally meet his gaze and grin before leaning forward and rubbing the sunscreen on his legs. He tolerates it until I move my hands underneath his swimsuit and keep sliding them higher.
“Careful,bambina,” he warns. “You’re here to see the dolphins and sharks, not that. But if you’re a good girl today, I’ll tell you to open your mouth again tonight, right after I have another taste of you.”
“That’s all you want?” I ask, biting my lip. “A taste?”
I’m a little terrified, because I’ve never done it before. Because of howbighe is. But I want him. I’ve neverwantedanyone before. Never felt the constant arousal, just being near them. Never felt common sense melt into a puddle, circle the drain, and disappear.
“That wouldn’t be fair,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Save your first time for someone who will give you more than a few days, Lea. I’m serious.”
“What does anyone ever get promised?” I look down, feeling conflicted. “The rest of your life, right? That’s what you give someone.”
“Stop.” He shakes his head and gets up. “It’s not the same thing and you know it. Let’s go swim with the dolphins.”
Massimo walks to the wheel, turns it, and the boat moves forward. I rise from my knees, adjust my swimsuit, and swallow the lump trying to form in my throat.
I don’t like what I’m feeling right now, but I’m not going to let it ruin our day, even if the rejection stings more than the palm of his hand.
I just don’t know how much of agood girlI’m going to be.
CHAPTER 20
Massimo
Lea downs the wine in her glass and pours another while I take us close to where the dolphins visit the shallow waters.
“Hit that button for me,” I say, motioning to one over near her.
“What does it do?” She turns, seeing the sign as soon as she does. “Oh, it’s the anchor. Okay.”
Lea leans forward to press the button and I kill the motor. The anchor makes the boat rock a little as it goes down, and I glance over my shoulder at her.
