"My lady's wish," Gio murmured, smiling.
He took the towel from her, and Max leaned back against the side of the tub. For the first time since Gio had known her, it seemed as if the weight of care and responsibility had slipped off her shoulders. Despite the blood, she looked truly free, relaxed, and happy for the first time. She leaned against the tile and smiled at him with a soft, warm light in her eyes.
"Excuse me," Gio said, reaching past her for the tap. Max swayed out of the way, but moved just enough that he could wet the towel. The water splashed into the bottom of the tub, getting both their legs wet.
"Don't worry about that," Max said as he hastily turned off the water. "We'll be wet all over soon enough." She raised her steady gaze to meet his. "In fact, I'm pretty wet already."
Gio almost dropped the towel. Clearing his throat, he began sponging at her front. Max leaned back and let him do it.
With the ragged shirt off, all that was left on her muscular torso was her bra. Her nipples were firm pebbles beneath the fabric. Gio ran his thumbs across them and then began fumbling with the clasp. Eagerness made him as clumsy as a high schooler with his first girlfriend. He could feel himself blushing. Max opened her eyes.
"Do you want some help, or—"
"I've got this," he said.
"Really? You know, I thought Italian men were supposed to be—mmph."
He closed his lips over hers, swallowing the teasing even as he finally got the clasp loose and her high, perfect breasts came free against him.
Max obediently raised first one arm, then the other as he removed the straps and laid it carefully across the side of the tub.
"Got to get you clean," he told her, and proceeded to turn his attentions very thoroughly to her breasts with the wet towel.
He washed across the slight curve of her stomach—the only part of her torso that wasn't muscular and flat; it had just a pleasing bit of roundness to it—and pulled down her jeans, then carefully and thoroughly washed each leg.
"Gio," Max groaned, slumped back against the tile as he worked his way down her legs one at a time. "If you don't get to what's between them pretty soon—"
"Patience," Gio said, although he could feel his own eagerness straining against the crotch of his trousers. "You can't rush this."
He ran a hand up the inside of her thigh, lightly tickling his fingertips up to the warm nest of dark curls between her legs.
Max gasped and lay back as he fingered her.
"Let me know if I hurt you," Gio murmured. He leaned forward and kissed her inner thigh, and then nuzzled gently at her mound.
MAX
In the aftermathof the fight, Max was exhausted, and also thrumming with adrenaline and endorphins. Lying back and being taken care of by Gio was exactly her speed right now, especially when he began to probe at her sensitive folds with his tongue.
She was already halfway there just from being near him, and with his skilled tongue she came almost instantly, gasping and lifting her hips off the bottom of the tub.
Gio laid a hand on her stomach as she jerked through the aftershocks. "I didn't mean to race all the way to the finish line so quickly, my love," he said softly, and her melted core thrilled to the sound of the wordsmy lovein his rumbling baritone. "Let's see how many more times I can get you to do that."
The answer turned out to be several. He made love to her missionary-style, and bent over, and finally when she was rubbery-kneed and exhausted, he allowed himself to come, which brought her off to another shattering climax.
There were definitely big advantages, Max thought, weary and happy, to making love with a man who had some practice behind him.
Afterwards, she and Gio had a leisurely shower together, lathering each other with handfuls of the rich floral-scented homemade shampoos from the jars beside the tub. One thing led to another, and he ended up pushing into her from behind as she leaned against the side of the shower enclosure, gasping her way through another incredible orgasm.
After that, they finished the shower in a more comfortable, relaxed state. Gio washed her hair, working his fingers against her scalp, and then turned so she could return the favor on his golden, silver-laced mane.
They dried each other on more of the soft, thick towels from the closet. Clean and dry and loose-limbed, Max dressed in the items of clothing that Sofia had left her. These looked like they belonged to her mother or one of her aunts, a loose blouse and long embroidered skirt of the sort that older women in the village wore.
"Feels weird to wear one of these again," she said, running her hand down the heavy woolen fabric of the skirt.
"It looks amazing on you."
"I suspect this is flattery, but I will allow it to stand."
