Something cold meets my overheated skin, and I carefully look to the side to find Kirill placing a glass of alcohol against my cheek. But that’s not the problem. He’s close, like way too close. So close that I can follow the droplet of perspiration sliding over his collarbone, to his chest, and then down… I catch myself before I touch the droplet’s resting place. I’m acting like a major pervert, and the worst part is, I can’t stop it. Must be because the heat is boiling my brain.
