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A moment later, Oliver turns a… thing near the pipe and the water slows. Another moment after that, the spurt stops flowing completely.
He eases out from beneath the sink. I slap my hand over my mouth to hide my growing grin.
He doesn’t stand up yet. Oliver sits back on his knees with his head down. Water drips from his hair, coating his face and body. His shirt sticks helplessly to his taut chest, completely soaked through.
I snort behind my hand, unable to stop the laugh building in my throat.
Oliver looks up at me. His face shows a slight shade of red, but his icy blue eyes remain as cool as always. “So, I think we should call maintenance,” he says.
I crack up. Thankfully, Oliver does, too, as he runs a damp hand through his dripping hair. I grab the nearest towel off the rack and lower to my knees, still laughing as I touch the towel to his head to dry him off.
“Go ahead,” Oliver says after a moment. “Say it. You know you want to.”
“Say what?”
He glares at me. “I told you so.”
I chuckle. “No,” I say. “That’s not my style.”
I push the wet hair away from his eyes, drying his forehead and cheeks before I even realize what I’m doing. We hover only a few inches away from each other; so damn close to that self-deprecating smile of his.
Oliver seems to realize it as I do, and his eyes drift to my lips. The shock of it makes my heart jolt and I remember the last time we were this close; locked together in a nearly identical room to this one on the other side of the country. The memory surges through me, reminding me, taunting me, begging me to give myself to him again.
I blink and we’re an inch closer. Another breath and we’ll be?—
“Wet,” I say without thinking.
Oliver pauses.
“I’m wet. I mean — moist. I mean—” I exhale a laugh. “I should go call Bill and then… get changed because my clothes are…”
“Wet,” he says.
“Yes.”
“Mine a little more than yours.”
I look down again, admiring the way his biceps pop through his sleeves. “Right, of course. You’re very…” I stop myself from saying wet again and drop the towel on him as I push off the floor. “I’ll go call Bill.”
Oliver nods as he pats himself dry. “Go call Bill.”
“Go call Bill,” I repeat for no reason.
My heart races while I shuffle across the suite to the phone.
Good god, did we almost kiss?
Did I almost kiss my boss?
“Maintenance,” Bill answers.
“It—” I choke as I realize my lungs are about to burst and force myself to inhale some fresher air. “It’s me again, Bill. Looks like the problem is little out of our paygrade.”
Bill laughs. “That’s all right, Paige. I’ll send Nancy up. She just got back from break.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.”
I hang up and turn to find Oliver standing in the doorway with the towel still draped along the back of his damp shoulders.
