Giovanni glanced down as he continued to walk behind Luciano down the narrower trail, transfixed by the sight of their entwined hands. His fingers were long and slender around his own, his palm calloused too. Yet his touch was gentle, almost tentative as if he was unsure of his reaction. The sounds of the forest surrounded them—the rustling of leaves, the crunch of twigs underfoot, the distant sound of the steam they left behind.
All he could focus on was the sensation of Luciano's hand in his, the electricity that seemed to spark between them with every step. He stole a quick glance at his profile, admiring the sharp lines of his jawbone, the way the dappled sunlight played across his features. His brow was furrowed in concentration, eyes fixed straight ahead but he thought he detected the faint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
The corners of his lips turning down in bemusement, Giovanni mused, "Why are you smiling?"
"What?"
