The attendants appear and herd us toward the massage rooms. The air warms slightly, but my body is still buzzing.
The intimate massage room flickers with lighted candles. Two massage tables sit side by side. I watch as Maddie places Snorty, relaxing in his carrier, on a side table.
I whip off my towel and lie on the left bed, completely comfortable in my skin. An attendant discreetly folds a fluffy white towel over my lower torso.
“You’ll want to change out of that wet suit," the same attendantsays to Maddie.
“Slip under the sheet of the massage bed next to your fiancé, remove the suit, and hand it to me."
“But he’s not my fiancé...” Maddie begins.
She catches herself a split second later, realizing she almost blew her cover to a spa attendant.
"She means she's still getting used to the word fiancé. It's all very fresh," I say.
I can’t help but grin as I watch her struggle under the crisp sheet, working the wet suit off.
I gaze at the outline of her firm hips wiggling as she peels the fabric off her firm, well-shaped booty.
After a brief knock, the door opens. Antoine enters with Marco and Ben behind him.
“Ready, team?” Antoine asks.
Without waiting for an answer, Marco and Ben position themselves for "intimate" shots.
The masseuses lay their strong hands on my shoulders. But Maddie's soft sighs next to me tighten me right back up.
Her sheet slips a fraction, revealing the curve of her breast.
“Enjoying yourself over there?” I say.
“You bet.” Her eyes flick to my body.
Ah, so the schoolmarm is losing her inhibitions.
The tension builds, our bodies inches apart. As the masseuse runs her hands over Maddie’s body, I imagine I’m the one touching her.
Then Maddie’s foot brushes mine under the sheets that separate us. Accidental? Maybe.
But the contact sends a jolt straight to my dick.
I shift closer, my hand "accidentally" grazing her thigh, fingers lingering just long enough to feel her tremble.
“Perfect—hold that intimacy,” Marco calls, zooming in for the money shot.
Already, I see the image in my head exactly as he’ll print it. Viral gold.
Maddie and me, lying side by side. Sheets draped just so. My hand near hers in a "tender" clasp. And her flushed face turned toward me like we're lost in each other.
Then Ben asks us to change positions—to bring our lips toward one another slowly, hovering just before a kiss.
Flashes pop, capturing our steam-kissed glow, our bodies glistening.
I can predict how the final image will look, and its caption:Reformed bad boy relaxes with his Cinderella fiancée.
Prince Michael and Antoine’s instincts on how to sell the narrative have been right all along.
The crew finally packs up, leaving us in dim silence.
