The thought of his naked, sweaty body being in a small enclosure next to mine makes every muscle in my body twitch. My nerves are heightened as he turns to face me.
“Have you used one of these before?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“You can get inside …” He looks me up and down. “In any state you want. Dressed, undressed—it’s all fine. The timer will go off in ten minutes.”
I try not to look shocked.
“A bucket of water and a ladle are inside as well as a few essential oils. Just add some water to the rocks in the basket beside it to increase the moisture. And add the oils if you want.”
“Oh, okay,” I say, taking my eyes from him and to the sauna. “I got it.”
“You can stick the ladle through the door handle inside to lock it if you want. Just … saying,” he adds.
My hackles are raised.
Even if he doesn’t want me now that I’ve cried like a baby in front of him, he could be a gentleman and not lead me on.
Dressed, undressed—it’s all fine.
Damn you.
“Will do.” I press my lips together. “Anything else I need to know?”
He presses his lips together too. I think his is to hide a smile and not from annoyance. It only irritates me further.
“Nope. I think that’s it,” he says. “Enjoy.”
And with that, he slides out of the room.
I wait until I see him leave the bedroom before I turn back toward the sauna.
The tension in my body proves my need for the tool in front of me. But it’s the same tension that almost has me walking out and into the guest bedroom and locking the door behind me.
“How can one man be so frustrating?” I whisper as I slip out of my T-shirt.
I take off my panties and leave them lying on top of my shirt on the floor. If he comes back inside and sees them—oh, well. It’s not like it’s a new threshold for us.
It’s more like one I’d like to revisit.
The sauna is already hot when I enter. It smells faintly of a distinct type of wood. I locate the rocks in the corner and the little bucket Holt mentioned. I ladle a bit of water over them before sticking the oversized spoon through the door handle.
I take a towel off a rack by the door and place it on the lower of the two benches. I’m thankful I didn’t drink anything but water at our little pizza party because the heat of the room is enough to make me lightheaded on its own.
I sit on the towel and breathe in the thick air. My skin is damp. Beads of sweat dot my body.
Next to the rack of towels is a thin, rectangular window. Through it, I can see the vanity in the bathroom and the mirrors hanging above it.
I imagine Holt lying on the bed in the other room. He’s probablygrinning smugly, knowing I’m in here hot and naked and wishing he was with me.
He wants me too. I’m certain. I can see it when he looks at me. I can feel it in the zing of his touch and how his gaze flips to mine as if to ask if I felt it too.
I can hear it in his voice when he speaks and see it, too, in his actions.
Except that he hasn’t tried to sleep with me since the night at Picante.
I sigh.
