‘After parkouring through Paris all day, Arno asks me to massage the aches and strain from his muscles. He strips down to his waist, and as I work on easing his muscles, I can’t help but admire his toned physique and broad shoulders. I do my best with the massage, but my hands start to wander, and Arno catches my wrist, smirking. “Thinking of soothing me in another way, cherie?” he asks invitingly. I settle into his lap and unbutton my blouse. “I can think of more ‘therapeutic’ ways,” I reply.’