The Glassmaker

by Tracy Chevalier

Two months of being shut away during the quarantine—and the long time before that of keeping a respectful distance from each other—made them explode once they were together. Orsola had not thought it possible that someone’s touch could affect her so much, or that her touching someone could excite them both. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. She stroked every part of him, exploring his broad shoulders, the rolling hills and valleys along his arms, his muscly calves and taut backside she could finally cup, feeling the dense, satisfying weight of him. Antonio ran his hands all over her, into her, every surface, every crevice; in doing so he gave her new knowledge of herself. Orsola had never paid much attention to her body, but now that someone else was, she became more aware of herself—her full breasts, her smooth back and soft inner thighs that he ran up and down with his fingers and tongue.