"Excuse me?"
"Your fingers. They're really thick and sexy, and I've imagined them doing…thingsto me."
My back hits the hot wall again, but I barely even register it, too caught up in Jarvis's revelation to care about a mild heat burn. With my logic overridden, along with any concern about repercussions or beingthat old gross guy,I ask, "What sort of things?"
The vein in his neck starts ticking. "Don't make me say it."
"Alright. I won't." I push off the lower bench and climb onto the upper one, sitting on the edge by his legs. "But if you don't want to say it…" I lift my hand and extend it toward him, keeping my eyes locked on him the entire time. "Perhaps you can show me?"
8
Jarvis
I may be thirty-three, but my weight has meant I don't have a lot of experience with guys. And Anson Palmner is no ordinary guy. He'sall man.
All man with a raised palm that he's encouraging me to use however I please. Like it wasn't already boiling hot in here. I think I'm about to pass out. This can't be real. Maybe it's a sauna-induced fever dream?
"Go on," he encourages with his voice dropping lower, his gaze falling to my chest.
I could have the world's best body, abs for days, but the way I'm half sitting, half leaning against the wall of the sauna still wouldn't be flattering. My pecs are drooping, and there's a layer of padding poking above my towel, but that isn't stopping Anson fromdevouringme with his eyes.
Inhaling nothing but heat through my nose, I reach out and curl my fingers around his wrist, as thick and solid as his fingers. Saying what I've imagined him doing to me is damn well near impossible, but showing him isn't that much easier, either.
I can't… I can't actually go through with it… Can I?
Should I?
Fuck it. You only live once, and apparently if you do it well enough, that's all you need.
I slowly guide his hand toward my body. He shifts in closer so he's within total body contact distance. From my face to my feet, I can make his hand touch me anywhere I want.
Something about that, about having that level of control, turns me on. My cock pokes through my towel. With the way Anson is sitting, I can't see what his dick is doing, but when I press his palm between my pecs, the low growl he emits, the way heat drenches his gaze, tells me he's into it.
Intome.
"Is this where you want me to touch you?" he asks, his voice a low rumble.
"It's one of the places." Look? I managed to form words. Yay me. Then, feeling bold, maybe even a little empowered. "One ofmanyplaces."
His dark eyes soak in my sweat-drenched body. I'm wearing a towel, but I feel so exposed. He's so close. I'm almost naked. And there'sa lotof me to take in.
"Where else?"
His gruff baritone makes my skin pebble. "Um, lower."
He slips his wrist free then skims his thick fingers along my shin, just above my ankle. "Here?"
I shake my head. "Too low. Higher."
He takes his time, tracing his fingers delicately around the hairs on my legs, inching up slowly toward my knee. "Here?"
"Higher."
My upper torso tightens as he smooths a path over my knee to my lower thigh, meeting the edge of the towel protecting what little modesty I have left.
I suck in a hot breath. The logical part of me knows that I should put a stop to this the next chance I get. This is beyond unprofessional…but it's oh so deliciously wicked. By far the hottest thing I've ever done—and I'm saying that not because I'm currently glowing with sauna sweat but because no one has ever made me feel this special.
Or sexy.