“You sure you wanna touch my oil-infested hair, Dr. Khan?” A muscle tenses in his jaw, and his eyes turn darker by the second. The air around us becomes charged with tension, making it hard to breathe. It feels as though the kitchen has become smaller. Tighter. Hotter. All at once. My senses flare with his scent, and I’m reminded of how close I am to the front of his hips. “This is a very dangerous angle,” he murmurs, his voice low and salacious. His fingers thread through my hair with a gentle touch that’s almost too much to handle. I bite down the inside of my cheek, trying to stifle the
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