“I need us to promise each other something,” he says softly.
“Okay.” My hands are shaking, and I hide them behind my back so he doesn’t notice.
“I need us to promise that if one of us has feelings that start to change, we’ll be honest with each other,” he says. “I don’t want any secrets between us. Any lies or misunderstandings. Promise?”
I hold my breath as I nod, not sure how to respond to that. I agree, of course. But why is he saying it? Does he think his feelings could change, or is he worried about me?
“I promise,” I whisper, committed either way. “I do.”
If he hears the echo of wedding vows in my words, he doesn’t say so. Just holds out his arms for another embrace. I step willingly into them, grateful for physical affection to take away our need for further discussion. He holds me tightly, palm rubbing a slow circle on my back. It’s a hug that’s more familiar to me than anyone else’s. We’ve done this a thousand times before in platonic form.
But that’s not what this is. Not this time, anyway.
Something stirs inside me at the thud of his heart in my ears, the solidness of his body pressed against mine. I squeeze tighter, craving this contact. Craving him.
It’s like flipping a light switch. One second we’re holding each other like old friends, and the next I feel my body temperature rising and the heat pooling between my legs. I’d feel embarrassed if I didn’t recognize the same response in him. His heartbeat drums louder under my ear, and his arms go tighter around me.
I shift my weight on my heels and feel my hip bump the bulge at the front of his workout shorts. When I graze it again with my thigh, he does a full-body shudder.
“Sorry,” he says, pulling back with an embarrassed grimace. “Wasn’t trying to ruin the tender moment. Sometimes I just?—”
“I know.”
Sometimes I just, too.
I bite my lip, hesitating. My heart is pounding, too, and I remember what Simon said when he gave me the keys to this place.
Enjoy yourself as much as you want. The place is all yours.
I wasn’t sure how to interpret Cassie’s smirk, but now I get it.
“Come on.” I grab Ian by the hand and pull him toward the locker rooms. “I have an idea.”
He doesn’t ask questions. Not even when I lead him through the door marked “women” and down the hall to where the scent of eucalyptus hangs heavy in the air. I stop at the door and watch Ian read the lettering above it.
When it registers, he turns and smiles. “Steam room sex. You remembered.”
I nod as I peel off my sports bra and shimmy out of my leggings. “I’d forgotten about it until this morning when Simon gave me a tour.”
Years ago on a camping trip with friends, we sat around sharing our sex bucket lists with the group. Places we wanted to do it, things we wanted to try. It was one of those conversations fueled by cheap beer and the newfound freedom of young adulthood, and Ian and I grinned at each other from across the campfire.
I said I wanted to have sex on an airplane, which I’ve since learned is highly illegal on a commercial flight and constitutes a federal crime.
Some things aren’t meant to be.
But Ian’s fantasy is more doable. There’s some health risk with prolonged sessions—yes, I googled, and yes, I figured out how to dial the temperature back so we don’t keel over—but I’ve managed to figure out how to fulfill the fantasy safely.
“I’m sure you’ve already done it,” I tell him now, “but we can pretend?—”
“I haven’t, actually.” Ian pulls off his shirt and shoves his shorts off over his hips. “So we don’t have to pretend.”
We don’t have to pretend.
God, if only it were that simple. If only I didn’t have to keep pretending I’m not starting to feel more for Ian Nolan.
But maybe that’s what he’s saying. Maybe he’s open to considering we could someday end up being more.
He reaches for me, and I go willingly, pressing my naked body against his. His lips find mine, and he kisses me until I’m squirming and dizzy, and we haven’t even made it into the steam room yet.
