“Mm-hmm,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

That was a wise decision. Their faces were only inches apart, and if she turned toward him, he didn’t know if he had the willpower to resist kissing her. He set her down on the tiles that surrounded the whirlpool tub. Now all she had to do was pivot on her bottom and slide into the tub.

“Okay. You’re all set.” Seth took a step back and then another to put distance between them, because she looked criminally beautiful perched on the corner of the tub. “I would offer to bring you another drink, but I don’t want you drowning in the bubbles.”

“Haha. I’ll be fine.” When his worried gaze lingered on her, she continued, “Seriously, shoo. You don’t need to stand guard.”

“Don’t try to get out on your own,” he warned again, terrified that she might slip and smash her head somewhere. “Call me when you’re done.”

“All right. All right. Stop with the fussing,” she said, but there was a smile behind her voice.

Seth closed the door, tempted to lock it behind him. But he wouldn’t be able to get inside again to help her, so he was just going to have to rely on his self-control not to bust in there and jump into the tub with her. He paced the small expanse of their one-bedroom suite like a caged predator to work off some of his restless energy. Even in his teenage years, he’d never felt this kind of suffocating sexual frustration before. His skin felt stretched so tight around him that he could imagine himself bursting out of his body like a fucking werewolf.

He stomped to the kitchen and poured himself a tall glass of ice water to cool himself off. He chugged it down all at once and was rewarded with a brain freeze, but at least he didn’t feel quite as overheated.

“Seth?” Her lovely voice reached his ears from far away.

Muttering to himself while pacing back and forth sure made time fly. A good twenty minutes had passed. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

In front of the bathroom door, he shook out his arms while he shuffled his feet like a boxer. When he was somewhat in control of himself, he entered the bathroom and promptly wanted to walk back out. She was up to her neck in bubbles with her wet hair piled on top of her head and cheeks rosy from the warm water. She looked like a fucking cupcake, and—God—he wanted to eat her up. How the hell was he going to keep his hands off of her tonight?

“Can you come stand here and hold your arms out for me?” she asked in a tiny voice. “And please close your eyes.”

He rolled up his sleeves as he walked to her, and stood with his eyes closed as wet, slippery hands gripped his arms and pulled. Her arms slid against his forearm as she pulled herself up higher. Just a little longer. You can’t possibly die from a hard-on.