I slid my hands lower, feeling the knots beneath her skin. Her hair was pulled back, but a few stray strands clung to her neck. I remembered how those strands had felt against my face yesterday when we’d kissed. Since then, we’d both been pretending that everything was fine between us.
"You're carrying a lot of tension here," I said.
"Wonder why," she replied, a hint of breathless laughter in her voice.
My fingers found a particularly tight spot, and I worked over it slowly, being careful not to apply too much pressure. Olivia's head tilted forward again, and she let out a soft moan.
"Tension release is essential for intimacy," Serena announced as she walked between the massage tables. She paused near us and nodded her approval. "Nice technique. Your wife is in good hands."
Olivia's entire body tensed under my touch. I could practically feel the blush heating her skin.
"He's always had good hands," she said, her voice light but strained. "It's the tattoo artist thing."
Serena smiled. "Artists do tend to be more attentive to detail."
When she moved on, I leaned closer to Olivia's ear. "Sorry about that."
"Nothing to be sorry about," she whispered back. "We're supposed to be married, remember?"
Right. Supposed to be. Pretending to be. Acting like.
My hands continued their careful exploration of her back, finding the places where stress had knotted her muscles. I tried not to think about how it felt to finally be able to run my fingers over her curves, to feel her body’s reaction to my touch.
"Partners, switch positions," the instructor called.
Olivia climbed off the table and disappeared behind a makeshift changing room to get dressed. I pulled off my shirt and laid down, my big frame barely fitting on the padded table.
When she came back, her hands were hesitant at first, smaller than mine but surprisingly strong. She'd touched my neck and ran her hands through my hair tons of times over the years, but this was different. Her palms pressed into the broad expanse of my back, finding the hard-earned knots from hunching over a tattoo gun for hours on end.
"You have actual rocks back here," she murmured.
I grunted in response, not trusting my voice. Her thumbs dug into a particularly sensitive spot between my shoulder blades, and I had to bite back a groan.
"Too hard?" she asked.
"No," I managed. "It's good."
Good was an understatement. Her touch was gradually becoming more confident, more deliberate. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensation of Olivia's hands on my skin, knowing I'd revisit this memory a thousand times after we returned to our normal lives.
The class ended too soon. We gathered our things in silence, both pretending that something fundamental hadn't shifted between us. Outside, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the resort grounds.
"That was..." Olivia started, then shook her head. "Educational."
I nodded, shoving my hands into my pockets. "Yeah."
We walked back to our room while maintaining a careful distance, both of us looking everywhere but at each other. The resort staff had been in while we were gone and brought fresh towels, turned down the bed, and set another bottle of complimentary champagne on the table. The heart-shaped tub gleamed in the bathroom, visible through the half-open door.
Olivia set her bag down on the dresser. "I should probably shower before dinner."
"Sure," I said, reaching for the remote control like it was a lifeline. "I'll just watch some TV."
She disappeared into the bathroom, and I sat on the edge of the bed, flipping channels without registering a single image. All I could think about was her skin beneath my hands, the small sounds she'd made, the way her body had responded to my touch.
I settled on some mindless cooking competition and turned the volume up, trying to drown out the sound of the shower running. Trying not to picture Olivia standing under the spray, water sliding down her shoulders where my hands had recently been.
When she came out twenty minutes later wrapped in one of the plush resort robes, her hair damp and her face flushed from the steam, I nearly swallowed my tongue.
"Your turn," she said, her voice neutral.
