When I reach the door, it’s already cracked open.Steam drifts out like breath.The light inside is a dim red.He’s standing at the back wall, arms crossed loosely over his bare chest.Waiting.
He doesn’t speak.
With one last glance at the hallway to make sure we’re not being followed, I step in and close the door behind me.The latch clicks louder than it should.I stay near the wall, the room suddenly too small for all the heat in my body.
He steps forward, slowly.As if he’s tracking me.Prey versus predator.
“You always look like you want to say something,” he murmurs.“But you don’t.”
“I’m not supposed to,” I say.My voice sounds rough.Thin.
“Says who?”
I don’t have an answer for that.
He closes the distance, stopping just close enough that I feel the warmth of him.Not touching.Not yet.
“I think you want to be seen,” he says, softer now.“You just don’t want to ask for it.”
His fingers hover near mine.Not brushing.Just waiting.
He won’t take the first step.
Not unless I do.
It’s a game of Simon Says, and he’s Simon, but he’s not saying.It’s justimplied.
I swallow hard.His words sink in like heat, slow and heavy.You want to be seen.
He’s not wrong.
But it’s one thing to watch.It’s another to be opened up like that.To bewantedwhere someone could see what’s underneath.
I shift my weight.My back brushes the warm tile wall.“This isn’t part of the job.”
He tilts his head.“I didn’t ask for your job.I asked foryou.”
The way he says it—not slick, not a line—just fact.And that makes it worse because I want to believe it.
He steps in again, closer now.Our arms almost touch.I can smell the steam on his skin, the faint trace of mint from the sauna.His eyes flick to my mouth, but he doesn’t move in.He’s giving me room to leave.
I don’t.I should, but there’s not a chance in hell I could make my feet move right now.
My fingers twitch at my side, aching to reach for him.But I can’t.Not yet.I don’t know what happens if I do.If I let go.
He leans in, just enough for his breath to warm the shell of my ear.His voice is quiet, careful.
“I’ll wait,” he says.“But not forever.”
Then he pulls back, just slightly, gaze steady on mine.Not pushing.Justoffering.
The room feels too small.
I let out a breath that thickens to a puff of steam.My hands are fists.My heart beats like a drum.
I want this.God, I want this.
But I’m still not ready to take it.
