"It's cold," I say, already walking toward the bathroom. "Let me take a quick hot shower and change."
I barely take two steps.
Jiang suddenly grabs my wrist and pulls me back. His other hand slides to my waist, firm, steady, pulling me right against him.
Whoa—sir?!
Before I can protest, he leans in. Way too close. His breath is warm against my cheek.
"I want to do it again," he says softly.
I freeze mid-step, towel dreams evaporating.
My brain blue-screens.
oh. Oh. Sir has audacity now.
"I—do what again?" I blink up at him, voice doing that embarrassing octave jump that betrays me.
His antennae slowly glow, lazy and smug, like they know something I don't. His thumb presses warm circles at my waist, grounding and absolutely illegal in this temperature.
"You always ask many questions," he says softly. "Your brows hurt. I fix that."
That is not a medical explanation, Jiang.
I stare at him. Then at his antennae. Then back at his face.
