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He lifted her hand to his mouth. The touch of his lips was soft on her scraped palm, the tiny licks of his tongue so light she could barely feel them. Wait. He was licking her?”You can’t lick me,” she said sternly. “i don’t know your name.”He looked up and a quick grin slashed across his face. “Luca,” he said….”Luca,” she repeated. “Is that an America name?””No.” He lifted her hand to his mouth again, and his tongue once more began a slow, gentle movement over the scrape. She was okay with it now, because she knew his name.
