Page 29 of Crossing Lines

“Or…we could just use it together.”

“We could, butwewon’t be doing anything together.”

He chuckles, actually fucking chuckles, low and deep, reminding me of silk sheets against naked skin. The thought of him, us, in bed sends a shiver down my spine.

“Did you know”—he takes a step closer to me—“that saunas are only allowed to be used while nude.”

I scoff, not believing him one bit. He couldn’t have been naked inside that thing the entire time, right? “You’re lying.”

“I’m not. Bathing suits are unsanitary and are the perfect breeding ground for bacteria.”

“What’s unsanitary is rubbing your bare ass all over the wood.”

He grins, like I’m being cute. “You’re supposed to use a towel underneath said ass.”

Shit, I didn’t bring a towel out with me. If I turn back now, I’ll lose the opportunity to interfere with his schedule. So, I do the only thing I can, and tug at the towel at his waist, my fingers brushing against his abdomen. Abs that are far more defined than humanly possible. Abs that clench when I touch him. I rip my hand away from his skin, towel still clutched in my fingers, and spin around, needing to put some distance between us.

He’s silent a beat before laughing. I freeze and look over my shoulder, not wanting to miss hearing it for the first time. It’s not just a huff or a chuckle, but a real, full laugh. The type where his shoulders shake and his eyes crinkle at the corners while a grin lights up his stupidly handsome face. “You’re something else, Nina Martin.”

I ignore his comment, and what it does to me, and say, “I’ll be out in ten minutes.”

But ten minutes in this hellish box is far too much for me to handle. Who sweats just to sweat? I don’t get it. It’s uncomfortable, stifling, annoying and I curse his name with every second that passes while I drip sweat onto his towel. When I can’t take it anymore, eight minutes later, I burst out of the door with my bathing suit in hand and his towel wrapped around me. Sucking in a breath of cool air, I dab at my overheated cheeks and twist my hair up, but I don’t have a hair tie on my wrist to secure it, so it unravels a second later.

Note to self: bring one next time.Ifthere’s a next time, because one time might be enough.

“Did you like it?” Evren says.

I spin around, shocked he’s still there. He’s still in his bathing suit, fresh water droplets clinging to his skin as if he swam some more while I was in the sauna.

“Yes,” I lie, “it was very relaxing.”

“Hmm.” He takes a step toward me and lifts his hand toward my cheek, but then freezes when he’s a few inches away from touching me. His hand hovers in the air, and I suck in a breath, waiting to see what he’ll do. I hate how much I want to take a step toward him, to close the distance between us, to feel his fingers on my skin.

I raise an eyebrow, challenging him to touch me. I can’t help it. The urge to push him is too strong to resist. He’s not my type, so much so that I think about himnonstop. Every interaction we have is a surprise, and I’m curious to see what he’s going to do next.

He moves his hand toward my face and runs his knuckles across my left cheek. “You stayed in too long.”

I lean into his gentle touch, liking it more than I care to admit before snapping myself out of it. This isn’t a good idea. For too many reasons. The least of which is that we’re roommates.

“Do you want your towel back?” I ask, taking a step away from him.

“And if I said yes?”

Then I’d be naked in front of him. A wave of insecurity washes over me at that thought. I’m normally not one to be uncomfortable in my body, it’s something I flaunt with my clothes. But…I’m not thin by any means, and I’m definitely not the type of woman billionaires go after. I’m just the midsized girl who has hips and tits and a soft stomach.

Determined not to let Evren freaking Kaya make me feel insecure, I unwrap the towel and lift my chin in the air. Taking a deep breath, I look him straight in the eye. I expect him to shy away or fidget uncomfortably.

But instead, he greedily peruses my body. Every part of me his gaze touches causes heat to scorch a path across my skin. My nipples pebble as if begging for him to put them in his mouth and he zeroes in on them.

My legs shake when I take a step toward him, closing the distance between us. I’m determined to give him this towel and be on my way. But the longer he silently staresat me, the more turned on I get. Shit, maybe this wasn’t a good idea. No, scratch that, this was ahorribleidea. What the hell was I thinking?

I hold out the towel for him to take.

“Sorry it’s a bit wet.” I say it like I’m a phone-sex worker and mean something else entirely. Where the hell did that voice come from?

His gaze snaps to mine and he takes the towel from my hand. “I’ll be sure to add to it.”

Holy shit. D…does he mean he’s going to jerk off in the sauna? Because if so, why is the thought of him doing that so hot, and more importantly, why do I have the feeling Evren would be vocal in bed?

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