“It’s b-better if you leave.” His eyes are shadowed. He takes a step forward, bringing inside a tidal wave of his scent that’s safe and clean and healthy and— Oh my God. Sex. It’s so delicious, so indecent, so fundamentally erotic, I want it even more than the cold water. Which I need to survive. “Please, Koen. I need you to leave.” “Where does it hurt?” He comes closer, clearly unaware that I’m scary and unpredictable. His heat should bother me, but by some miracle of biology it doesn’t add to the fever. “And how bad?” “It’s fine. I just need to—”
