“This morning, in the sea. I was fingering myself thinking about you.” It tumbles from my lips thick and fast, sucking out all the oxygen in the tiny space between us. Angelo turns his head and stares at me. The tiniest flicker of something passes through his gaze. Shock, maybe. Anger? I don’t know and I don’t have time to decipher it, because Alberto’s stooping to peer through the window.
