He huffs a laugh, but his gaze is steady on me, his eyes lingering on my mouth. I lick my lips, and his pupils darken.

“I want to know how you taste,” he says.

My heart thunders in my ears, and I wonder if I’m going to have a stroke in this sauna. If anyone were going to cause it, it would be him. Nevertheless, I hear my mouth say, “Just once?”

He nods. “Can’t hurt.”

“I’m quite sure that was what Samson said to Delilah before she got out her hairdressing scissors,” I observe.

He bursts into laughter, and my control snaps. I reach out, and, grabbing his skull between my hands, I fit my mouth to his. The laughter immediately dies, but I fancy I can taste it on his lips—a tart, lemony taste like sunshine in my mouth.

He groans, and his mouth opens beneath mine. Our tongues slide together, and I lose my mind between one heartbeat and the next. Grabbing him closer, I suck on his tongue, gratified to hear his low moan and its echo coming from me.

He laces our fingers together and opens his mouth farther, kissing me furiously with low gasps of pleasure that make my dick throb.

My hands are moving over his body before I know it, sliding over the slick skin and pulling him closer, my fingernails likely leaving red marks behind. He gives a throaty groan of approval and twists sinuously in my arms, and I grab the last thread of my common sense and push him away from me. He doesn’t go far because my hands operate beyond my brain’s commands and hold on to him, my fingers digging into his arms to keep him still.

We look at each other for a long second, and then he gives me a filthy smile. “I thought so,” he says hoarsely.

“Thought what?” My voice is rough, and he shivers as if I’ve run my hands over him.

“We’re compatible, Mags. I knew we would be.”

“How?”

“We make each other laugh. It’s always a sign.”

I shake my head. “I’m fairly sure that is complete misinformation. Or comedy halls would have a completely different vibe.” I draw in a noisy breath, searching for calm. “That was a mistake.” Even I can hear the reluctance in my voice. “I don’t do this with friends.”

“I hate you beyond all bearing,” he says promptly. “Everything okay now? Can we shag?”

I can’t help my laughter this time, and my fingers caress his damp skin as I reluctantly let him go. I rub my eyes. “What on earth are you doing?” I groan.

He nudges me. “Come on. What can it hurt, Mags? We’re compatible as hell. I’m not fucking anyone, and neither are you at the moment as far as I can see.”