Page 46 of His Two Hidden Masks

“Yes,” I said. “I mean, thank you. My beautiful body, thank you.” My body also wonders if you can drop to your knees, put your head under my skirt, and kiss my pussy until I scream and shudder. I needed to get my body under control.

I loved hearing Dylan call my body “beautiful.” I wasn’t overly self-conscious, but I was aware that curvy women like me were sexy in ways that didn’t match the razor-thin women who walked catwalks during the Venice film festival.

Actresses and ingenues didn’t have my hips or the softness of my belly. I loved and hated my curves, sometimes. Last night, Dylan hadn’t paused at any of my round and soft places. In fact, he had made me feel perfect and adored.

Roberto never hesitated to point out the jiggle of my belly. He said he loved my curves, too, but he also joked about my roly-poly thighs.

“This feels different,” I said, quietly. “It feels a bit strange to be walking beside you again.”

“I think you are just as gorgeous tonight as you were yesterday. It feels right to be with you again.”

I smiled, charmed by him. “Last night, you were a name.”

“The wrong name.”

“And tonight, you are a real name. In fact, you have two names.”

“Yes, although I am just one man. There is the me who played music, and there is just me.”

“I told you last night the magic of Venice would give us the gift of love and sex.” I looked skyward. The moon was still playing hide-and-seek, slipping in and out of clouds like a coy lover.

“Last night was magic,” he said. “And right now, it is just lovely to be with a beautiful woman who knows my real name, both of them.” He stopped and looked at me. “I’m sorry I lied about my name.”

“Maybe you need to apologize again.” I stepped toward him, flirting and loving it.

“I’m sorry, clever Bella,” he said.

“Thank you, Dylan Street aka Strand.” I liked saying both his names. I liked the way they rolled off my tongue. “And I apologize to you for withholding information about my connection to the Mia Sorella.”

“Truth?” he said.

“Truth, always.”

“I’m glad you lied. If I had known who you were, we would never have had our one night.”

“Is that what this is? One night?”

“Perhaps we don’t make more rules,” he said. “Perhaps we say we have Venice.”

“How long are you here?” I said, finally asking the question that I knew would dictate the how much time I had with this man.

“A few nights,” he said. “Although I have been thinking of changing my plans.” He tugged at my hand. “Let’s walk. It’s too cold to stand still, even next to your smoking hot body.”

I laughed and squeezed his fingers. He was right. The heat between us was warmer than gloves on this cold night.

“So, are you taking me on another tour tonight, clever Bella?” he said.

“Yes.” My mind raced as I thought of all the places to explore. We could walk across the Rialto, take a gondola ride into the Grand Canal. Or we could go somewhere special that only a true Venetian would know.

“For our first stop, I am going to see if I can give you a private tour of the Lido Glass Factory.”

“A private tour? I like the sound of that.”

“You are lucky, I know people. Hold, please.” I stopped and got out my phone, texting Leo, my heart racing.

Glass Tour, now? I’m with him.

HIM? THE HIM?

---