Page 15 of Melt for Me (The Last Snow of the Season 1)

Sweat drips down into my eyes and I use the back of my hand to wipe it off.

"Fuck! It gets really fucking hot in here."

"How hot do you think it is?"

He shakes his head, "I don't know...eighty, maybe ninety degrees. It'll get hotter."

"Hotter? Why?"

"Because darlin' that's what a sauna is for."

We sit in silence for a little while trying to find a comfortable place. The heat in the room just keeps rising and it's getting harder and harder to breath. Jag reaches behind him and pulls his shirt off before using it to wipe his face. He finds a bucket of water and dips the shirt into the pail.

"Come here, baby."

His endearment has my cheeks flushing again but I do what he tells me to do.

"Your cheeks are getting red." He presses the shirt to my face and cools me off before using it on his own face. I lean back but have to move forward again in seconds. "What's wrong?"

"I...the metal in my...um, bra is...,"

"Shit, take it off."

"What?"

"Take it off. The metal clasp is getting too hot. You have to get it away from your skin."

I hesitate again. The shirt - his shirt - is already drenched and sticky. Big girls like me need bras because if we don't wear them everyone can tell.

"Take it off so it doesn't hurt you." The authority in his voice has my hands moving before my brain can think of a reason to not follow his command. I reach up under the shirt and unclasp the metal clips. Once I have it pulled from my arms, I work it up out of my shirt and quickly hide the lacy cups under my sweater. My hair is wet, and my yoga pants are pretty much see-through at this point.

Jag's hands drop to the top of his pants. "What are you doing?"

He points to the button and zipper on his jeans, "Metal."

I give him a little nod and watch as he takes his jeans off, kicking his shoes off in the process. I wasn't wearing shoes when I came down, only socks that I took off a while ago.

"My God, it's hot."

I don't want to appear bitchy but damn.

"You should take your leggings off." I shoot him a look that tells him what I think of that idea. "The less you wear the better. The pants are only going to trap more heat and sweat to your body so it can't breathe."

"Fine." I take comfort in the fact that the man is sitting in his boxers after all. He is just as hot and miserable as I am. Every now and then he uses his shirt to rub water over the two of us. Once he puts it to the back of my neck and I can't fight the moan that pops out at how good it feels.

"You keep making noises like that and it's going to get a lot hotter than it already is in here."

I don't understand what he means so I don't say anything back but I also don't moan again. He will occasionally check out the little plexiglass window but other than that we try to sit still and not move very much.

"You need to relax."

"Oh yeah, that's going to be easy to do when I'm literally in my panties and nothing else but a thin shirt."

"Come here."

I move closer to him, and he surprises me by going for my hair. He takes the mass of dark brown hair in his hands and starts braiding it for me. He uses a strip of material torn from his shirt to tie secure the end.

"How did you learn to braid hair?"

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