TIMOFEY
"It's a fucking furnace in here." I grimace, swiping my hand over the back of my damp neck.
The NICU is a balmy seventy-five degrees at least. My clothes stick to my skin, and I would give anything to dive into another bath. Preferably with a naked Piper waiting beneath the surface.
I glance over. The hair at her temples is curling in the humidity. The sheen across her skin reminds me of the dewy glow she had post-orgasm.
"Well, Benjamin can't really wear clothes with all of this going on," she says, gesturing to his tiny body. "They want to keep him comfortable."
Her words send the dirty thoughts scuttling to the dark corners of my mind where they belong. Benjamin is wearing nothing but a diaper, a huge white bandage, and a maze of wires and tubes. They crisscross over his sleeping body and connect to a half-dozen different machines beeping around his bassinet.
He looks impossibly small next to all of the equipment.
And fragile. So fucking fragile.
