He leaves the room and returns with a fresh towel. He takes it to the kitchen, runs water over it, then wrings it out. "At least cool off before you pass out." He tosses it to me.
It lands against my chest, damp and cold, but the relief only lasts a few seconds. I sigh. "That was nice but short-lived."
"Admit it felt good for a brief moment," he demands.
"I just did. Do your ears not work?" I tease.
His grin turns wicked. "Imagine if you could feel the relief longer."
I don't move. I'm pretty sure if I take my clothes off, it's only going to get hotter. I don't trust him or me if we're both naked.
He lowers his voice and firmly commands, "Valentina, take that dress off before you faint."
I remind him, "You don't get to order me around."
He shrugs. "Then think of it as a suggestion."
"Keep suggesting, and I'll?—"
"What?" he challenges.
"I'll make sure your next breath hurts," I warn.
His smile deepens. "You're beautiful when you threaten me, Minx."
Minx.
Every time he calls me his little pet name, I don't correct him. I should, but I can't seem to tell him to stop.
The clock chimes for the top of the hour. A new crackle fills the air.
Brax moves toward the thermostat and spouts, "God dammit!"
"What?"
"It's at 103 now."
More sweat pops out on my forehead. It's not new. Every hour it's risen.
"For the love of God, take off that dress," he demands.
"Fine," I hiss, unable to stand the material any longer. "You want a show? Here."
I reach behind my neck and tug at the zipper, but it's stuck.
"Let me get that," Brax offers, sliding behind me before I can object. His fingers glide down my bare spine.
I gasp, then try to pull it together. I spin. "I'll get it."
"I already unzipped you," he claims.
I reach behind and confirm.
He adds, "You'll have to peel that nasty material off you."
"It's not nasty," I declare.
"Maybe not at the start of the night. But now? Ew." He wrinkles his nose.
