Page 99 of Pucking Wild

“Ryan?”

I turn her way. “Hmm?”

“Stop thinking.”

“What?”

“You’re thinking, and it’s distracting me from not thinking. We’re in here to relax, remember?”

“I guess baking alive just doesn’t quite relax me.” I cross my arms over my chest.

“It will if you let it,” she replies. “It’s science.”

“What kind of science says this is supposed to be relaxing?”

She heaves a deep sigh. “The heat from a sauna helps relieve muscle and joint pain. It detoxes the body, improves sweat performance, relieves stress, and can even improve the quality of your sleep. So, maybe if you sit in here for a half hour, you’ll actually be able to sleep tonight, and you won’t need me to talk you through my morning flossing routine.”

“Maybe it’s not your boring routines that put me to sleep. Maybe it’s just the comfort of having you close to me. Did you ever think of that?”

She goes still. Yep, I totally just said that out loud.

Well…fuck.

She drops the washcloth down off her eyes and glances over at me. “Ryan—”

“Kidding,” I say, forcing a smirk.

She rolls her eyes. “No, you’re not.”

No, I’m not.

“If you’re really that bored, I brought something that might help distract you,” she says.

“More distracting than the drop-dead gorgeous naked woman currently glistening like a sun goddess on the bench next to me?”

She smiles. “Honestly? Maybe.”

I look around this tiny box. There’s nothing but a stack of towels at the end of the bench. “What did you bring?”

“The puppy is curious,” she say, eyes still closed as she leans against the wooden wall.

“Tess…”

She laughs, sitting up as she slings the wet washcloth over her shoulder. Her curls are tied up in a bun on top of her head. The heat has her skin flushed pink, growing pinker. It spreads across her chest, over her shoulders, blooming in her cheeks. This is what I saw the first night I arrived at the house. She had this same glow. It lit her from the inside out.

Maybe thereissomething to saunas…

“Do you trust me, Ryan?” she says, flashing me a sexy smile.

I go still. “Unclear.”

“Do you trust me to make you feel good? That’s the only rule, right?”

I narrow my eyes. “Babe, we can’t fuck in here. I’ll stroke out.”

“Aren’t you a professional athlete at the literal peak of physical performance?”

“Yeah,” I reply, drawing out the ‘e.’ “But you do remember I play my sport oniceright, not the surface of the fucking sun?”

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