Giovanni Moretti
I watched Alessia with rapt attention, my gaze tracing every graceful movement as she prepared for the gala. The soft rustle of fabric filled the room as she slipped into her gown, a vision in deep burgundy silk that clung to her curves like a lover's caress.
"Zip me up?" she asked, her voice a low, melodious whisper that sent a shiver down my spine.
I approached, drinking in the sight of her exposed back, all creamy skin and delicate shoulder blades. My fingers brushed against her as I grasped the zipper, and I felt her shiver slightly at the contact. Slowly, deliberately, I pulled it upward, savouring each inch of skin that disappeared beneath the fabric.
"Grazie," Alessia murmured, turning to face me. Her eyes, warm and dark as espresso, met mine with a mix of nervo
