a familiar set of arms wrap around my waist—stopping my fall. “You’re making a habit of this, Collins,” Brady said. His voice was low at my ear. My hands were on his chest—skin on skin—and my body was nearly sealed to his. I risked a glance down and saw that the towel was still in place—thank god. I think. “S-sorry,” I stuttered. “Maybe we need one of those slippery when wet signs out here,” Brady said. I think he was trying to keep it light, but his voice was strained.
