Page 20 of The Mafia's Quadruplets

I pause, caught off guard. “What would you like to know?”

“Whatever you’re willing to share.”

I resume my motions, choosing my words carefully. “Jay’s… trying to find his place. He has a good heart but a terrible gambling addiction.”

Valerian makes a quiet sound of acknowledgment. “And you? Did you always want to be a massage therapist?”

“No.” I work on his right arm now. “I wanted to be an artist when I was younger, but life had other plans.”

“How so?”

I laugh. “A stunning lack of talent was what really held me back.”

His back rumbles under my hands when he chuckles. “That would make it difficult to be an artist.” He’s silent for a moment. “Do you still create art?”

His question catches me off guard. “Sometimes, when I have the time and inspiration, but I’d never show it to anyone.”

“What medium?”

“Watercolors, mostly. I like the way they blend and flow.”

“I’d like to see your work sometime.”

I swallow hard. “Trust me. You wouldn’t.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he says, amusement lacing his tone.

I shift focus to his legs, the powerful muscles making me acutely aware of his nakedness again. “Your tattoos,” I say, desperate to change the subject. “Do they have special meaning?”

Valerian doesn’t answer right away. Then quietly says, “Each one is a little piece of my life.”

I focus on Valerian’s tattoos, tracing the intricate designs with my fingertips. “Can you tell me more about them? What do they mean?”

His muscles flex beneath my touch. “Each one has significance in thevor v zakone—the thieves’ code.” His voice is low. “The stars on my shoulders mark my rank. The cathedral on my back represents time served in prison.”

My hands glide over his skin as he speaks. “What about this one?” I ask, touching a stylized cross near his shoulder blade.

“It means I’m a ‘thief in law’, a made man in the brotherhood.” There’s a hint of pride in his tone.

I move lower, working the muscles of his lower back. “And these symbols?”

“They tell my life story. My crimes, my triumphs...” He pauses. “My losses.”

The vulnerability in those last words startles me. I want to ask more, but I’m not sure I should push. I get near his buttocks and hesitate.

Valerian turns his head slightly. “Are you going to continue?”

Heat rushes to my face. “Of course,” I say, trying to sound professional. I’ve massaged countless backsides before. This is no different.

Except it is. Valerian’s body is all lean muscle and hot skin. As I work the firm muscles of his glutes, I’m acutely aware of every flex and twitch. My breath quickens, and I silently curse my traitorous body.

A soft groan escapes Valerian’s lips, and I nearly jerk away my hands. Instead, I force myself to maintain a steady rhythm.

“Your technique is excellent,” he murmurs, his voice husky.

“Thank you,” I manage, grateful he can’t see my flushed face. I clear my throat. “I’m going to move on to your legs now.”

I shift my focus to his calves and thighs, desperately trying to reclaim my professional demeanor. “So, um, how long have you had these tattoos?”

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