Page 147 of The Secret We Keep
“Why?” I ask, swiping at a loose strand of hair sticking to my face.
“Because I can’t stand.”
My hand pauses in my hair. “Why? Are you going to pass out? Do I need to get somebody?”
“No, curly fries,” he laughs at me. “I can’tstand.” His eyes drop to his lap.
Mine follow.
Oh.
“Sure.” The swell under his shorts is enough to make me blush. Sinking my desire to sit on him into my bottom lip, I stand as elegantly as I can, and climb to the top seating area, no longer facing him.
“Better?” I try to drop my arse to the wood, but the heat has me springing to my feet. But they singe like standing on hot coals, and unsure of what the hell to do to stop all the pain, I drop my hands and knees to the bench, facing away from Paddy.
He swallows loudly. “Nope. Not really.”
Oh, God, what am I doing?
“It’s like being tortured up here.” I rock back and forth, sucking in the thick air, heat pressing against my skin.
“Please stop moving.”
I wince, my hands jerking off the hot wood. My back arches, sweat pouring like rain over my back. “I can’t.”
Paddy curses under his breath. “You’re not helping my situation, curly fries.”
Dropping to my elbows, I rock forwards and backwards again, my knees stinging. I’m aware he has a clear view of my arse. “Paddy. I can’t move.”
He growls, jerking to his feet, clearly feeling the heat underneath him.
I laugh, dropping my head, looking at the state of myself. “Help me.”
“I’m trying,” he snickers, standing on the lower seats and reaching up for me. Effortlessly, he scoops me into his arms, plonking himself down once he has me. “Fuck.”
I stupidly wrap my arms around his neck. “What?”
His jaw clenches. “Don’t move.”
I can feel how… thick, things are underneath me. “But—”
“Just don’t move, and we can both try to enjoy the sauna.”
My lips pinch. “I don’t get how this is relaxing.”
He lets out a breath. “Yeah,” he tilts his head back, “maybe a spa wasn’t my best idea.”
My eyes drop to his lips. “Or maybe it was your best yet,” I say on a lost breath, licking my wet lips, making them burn.
He stares at me, my eyes still glued to him.
He breathes.
I breathe.
And we both move at the same time, locking together in a tangle of slippery bodies.
My hands scrunch into his hair, my tongue pushing hungrily past his lips.
