“Come here. I need to smell you.” “Why?” he asks, looking slightly confused. “Because we’re going to make candles inspired by each other, remember?” Azeer hesitates for a moment but then takes a step forward. I lean in to take a whiff of his torso, but there’s not much to catch—just hints of something masculine and expensive. “Here, try this angle,” he suggests, leaning down so that my nose is just inches from the side of his neck. “Better?” I gulp in a deep breath. “Yes,” I reply, my voice a little shaky. “Hurry up. My back hurts.” “Old man,” I mutter, inhaling the scent of his skin. God. My
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