Apparently, he and his sisters visited the springs every year, and when they were younger, they used to search the forest for mussels and the perfect Christmas tree, which their father chopped down and dragged to the house so they could decorate it together.

Sure enough, it didn’t take long for the telltale sound of running water to hit their ears, and Micah spotted steam rising above the trees. The evergreens opened up to reveal a small clearing, the cluster of hot springs nestled there making Micah’s eyes widen in wonder.

There were about a dozen small pools of water encased by slabs of pale stone, the water flowing from a small, rocky cliffside some distance away – all of it surrounded by the white and green landscape that was Tuscany in winter.

Maybe it was the city boy in him, but Micah couldn’t help but feel awed by the natural beauty of the springs.

“The water flows down all the way from Mount Amiata,” Damon explained, gesturing at the squat waterfall from which the water gushed. “It stays a balmy 99 degrees all year long.”

Micah wasn’t so awed, however, that he didn’t notice when Damon unzipped his coat and began shrugging it off, along with the rest of his winter gear. Then his shirt came off over his head.

“What are you doing?” Micah managed to find his voice when the man began unbuttoning his slacks. His brain could not compute the fact that Damon seemed to be stripping in front of him.

“Well, you can’t go in the springs in full gear,” Damon pointed out reasonably.

“You’re going in?” Why did his voice sound so much more high-pitched than usual?

Damon glanced his way. “Why else would we come all the way out here?” He seemed amused by Micah’s confusion as he hooked his thumbs over the waistband of his pants and unceremoniously pulled them down.

He didn’t seem self-conscious at all to be standing in front of Micah in nothing but a pair of boxer-briefs.

And why should he be?

Between the muscled pectorals sprinkled with hair, the corded biceps, the bulging thighs, and the outline of what appeared to be a ridiculously massive cock behind a pair of absurdly tight underwear, Micah’s eyes couldn’t seem to pick what to focus on.

After an awkward thirty seconds where his eyes feasted on the buffet of prime masculinity presented before him, Micah somehow managed to muster up the willpower he didn’t know he had to jerk his gaze away.

Thank God his face was already tinged pink from the cold.

Damon didn’t comment on his ogling. He merely lowered himself into one of the larger springs before turning back to Micah and asking, “Aren’t you coming in?”

Micah swallowed hard. “I- I don’t have my swimsuit,” he stuttered.