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"You don't have to—"

His hands landed on my shoulders before I finished.

Warm palms pressed through my thin T-shirt with perfect pressure, hitting exactly where it hurt most.

"Relax." His voice was low, right by my ear. "You're too tense."

I wanted to protest. My body betrayed me and melted.

His fingers worked slowly, firmly, kneading my rigid muscles from shoulders to neck. Every movement precise like he'd been trained.

"Where'd you learn massage?" I closed my eyes, voice drowsy.

"Mafia life teaches you a lot." Amusement in his voice. "Including how to help tense people relax."

"That sounds dangerous."

"Maybe." His thumb pressed the most sensitive spot at my nape. "But with you, I only want to make you comfortable."

His voice was too low. Like he was whispering sweet things.

And his hands were too warm. Warm enough to make me forget my defenses.

"Marcelo..." I opened my eyes.

"Mm?"

"Thank you." I turned to face him. "Not just the lace. For being there for Leon. For us."

His hand froze mid-air. Those gray-green eyes fixed on me.

"Ruby, I..."

I don't know where the courage came from.

Maybe I was too tired. Maybe his tenderness finally broke through my last defenses.

I stood up and hugged him.

Marcelo's body went rigid for a second. Then his arms tightened, pulling me completely against him.

"Ruby..." His voice was rough.

I looked up.

Our faces were too close. Close enough to see the fire dancing in his eyes.

"Kiss me." I heard myself say.

He didn't hesitate.

His lips crashed down on mine.

This kiss wasn't tentative like four years ago. This was hunger and passion that had been bottled too long.

His hand tangled in my hair. The other gripped my waist, crushing me against him.

I kissed him back, hands climbing his shoulders, letting myself drown in it.