“God, I desperately need a drink,” Nina states suddenly, fanning herself with her hand. “I’m dying in here. I’m going to go order us something. What do you want?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine. Something cold.”
“Perfect. I’ll be right back.”
Nina slips out of the sauna, and the blast of cooler air that rushes in when she opens the door is absolute heaven. Then the door shuts again with a soft thud, sealing me back in the heat.
I shift on the bench, trying to get comfortable, but my towel is getting stuck to my sweaty skin and it’s driving me crazy. The fabric is bunching weirdly in some places, pulling tight in others, clinging uncomfortably to my damp skin.
Screw it. I’m alone. I can adjust.
I stand up to fix the towel properly, pulling it open to unstick it from my skin, and I’m completely naked, arms raised with my unwrapped towel, when the door opens.
I squeal. “Nina, I’m—” The words die in my throat.
Jam. Get stuck. Refuse to form.
Because standing in the doorway, holding a tall glass of ice water with condensation dripping down the sides, wearing absolutely nothing but a towel wrapped low around his waist, and looking like every single fantasy I’ve ever had come to devastating life, is Slater.
His eyes lock on to me. Every inch of me because I’m thoroughly naked.
For a frozen moment, neither of us moves.
Then I frantically yank the towel up, wrapping it around myself with shaking, fumbling hands, and a different kind of squeal tears from my lips. High-pitched. Panicked.
“Oh my God!”
A slow, absolutely devastating smile spreads across Slater’s face. His eyes are sparkling with amusement and something darker, hotter, more dangerous.
“Hello, Anita.”
Nina set me up, didn’t she? This wasn’t a spa session for us to relax.
She coordinated with Slater, planned this whole thing with him. I’m going to absolutely kill her.
Right after I die of complete and utter mortification.
23
SLATER
Iwasn’t expecting to walk in on Anita completely naked. That was definitely not part of the plan Nina and I discussed over the phone this morning.
The plan was simple—arrive calm and collected and have a mature conversation about moving forward. Maybe establish some boundaries. Show her we’re serious about making this work despite the lies and the hurt.
Instead, I walked into the sauna and got a full, unobstructed view of every gorgeous inch of her. Arms raised. Towel spread wide open. And my entire brain zapped as if someone pulled the plug on my ability to think rationally.
Fuck.
Now I’m standing here with a raging erection pressing insistently against the towel wrapped around my waist, trying to remember how words work, while she scrambles to cover herself, making these sweet, panicked sounds that are doing absolutely nothing to calm me down.
So much for being collected and professional.
I force myself to move, to act like I’m not completely affected by what I just witnessed. I walk farther into the sauna and sit down on the wooden bench not too far from where she’s clutching that towel like it’s the only thing standing between her and complete humiliation.
The heat of the sauna smothers me immediately. Intense and dry, wrapping around my skin, and there’s perspiration beading along my shoulders and chest within seconds.
She’s blushing. Hard. Her entire face is flushed this gorgeous shade of pink that spreads down her neck and disappears beneath the towel. I can’t tell if it’s from the sauna heat or embarrassment or both.
