She turned her back to me and moved her hair out of the way. I fastened the necklace around her neck, my fingers brushing her skin, lingering longer than necessary. Thenthe earrings. I kissed the spot just below her ear when I finished, unable to help myself.
She turned to face me, still touching the necklace like she needed to be sure it was real. “I love it.”
“I’m glad.”
She smiled, a little shy. “Okay… My turn. Don’t judge!”
I raised a brow, surprised. “You got me something? You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” she cut in, already reaching into her bag. “But you’re going to like this.”
“I wasn’t expecting anything.”
She smirked. “That’s what makes it fun.”
She handed me a candle – simple, expensive-looking.
“A candle? Thank you.”
“Notjusta candle,” She laughed softly, leaning closer, her voice dropping. “Once it melts… It turns into body oil.”
I looked back up at her slowly.
“I thought we could keep our game going,” she added sweetly.
“You’re trouble…” I set the candle aside and pulled her closer, my arm sliding around her waist. “Does my gift come with rules?”
Her fingers traced the collar of my shirt. “Oh, there are no rules.”
I tilted my head, amused. “Is that a promise?”
Her smile softened, eyes warm. “Always.”
I kissed her again – slow, teasing this time.
One month down felt like nothing at all compared to everything ahead of us.
“So…” I began before he could take things further. “I was thinking we could make up for Valentine’s Day.”
Matteo’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile, his gaze raking over me. “What did you have in mind?”
I smiled, lighting the wick with a match from the mantel. The flame steadied, small but steady, and I let a few drops of the molten wax fall onto my palm. It transformed instantly, warm liquid pooling like liquid silk, unscented now but silky against my skin.
“Lie down for me. On your stomach,baby.”
Matteo smirked, running his tongue over his teeth. He complied with a chuckle, stretching out on the couch, his broad shoulders flexing as he took off his shirt. The low light from the fireplace played over the ridges of his back, highlighting the muscles.
I straddled his hips carefully, my dress riding up my bare thighs against the rough fabric of his trousers.
Holding the candle tilted over his back, I let the warm oil drip down and spread it across his shoulders, the slickness gliding effortlessly over his skin.
“Missed this,” he groaned, his voice muffled against his arm. “Your hands on me. Feels like forever.”
I laughed softly, working the oil in firm circles, thumbs pressing into the knots along his spine.
The library’s warmth enveloped us, the crackle of the fire a rhythmic underscore to my strokes. His skin gleamed under the amber glow, each glide of my palms revealing more of him – warm, alive, responding to every touch. I leaned forward slightly, letting my breasts brush his back through the low neckline of my dress.
“Tell me. What would you have done for Valentine’s if we hadn’t been busy?”
