I can hear Jude saying there’s no Sensurex available, not locally, not fast enough, and the words slide through me without fully landing.
“Her temperature?” the voice on the other end asks.
Jude presses his fingers to the side of my neck, right beneath my jaw. His touch is firm, searching, and it sends a shudder straight through me.
“She’s fucking hot,” he snaps into the phone. “Like burning.”
I whine softly before I can stop myself.
Everything feels wrong and right at the same time. My sweater is suddenly unbearable, my skin too tight, my blood too thick.
The scent in the room is overwhelming, mine and theirs mixing until I cannot tell where one ends and the other begins.
Ryker growls under his breath. “I can’t think. Her scent is all over me.”
His voice vibrates through me, low and strained, and it makes my hips tilt without permission. I curl my fingers into his chest again, needing contact, needing something to press against.
Jude drags a hand through his hair. “We need to properly check her temperature. And they’re recommending herbs. Miss Thea has them.”
“I’ll go,” Ryker says immediately.
“No,” Jude snaps. “You’re not dressed. I’ll go.”
I shake my head weakly. “Don’t,” I murmur. “I need… I need?—”
The ache between my thighs pulses, insistent and sharp. Saying it out loud feels impossible, humiliating, but my body doesn’t care about dignity right now.
Jude’s gaze drops to my mouth, then lower, and something in his expression fractures. He leans in and kisses me before I can process it, just once, brief and desperate.
The contact sends a jolt through me so intense I gasp.
His forehead rests against mine for a second. “I’ll be back,” he says roughly. “Ryker, get her to bed.”
I try to protest. “I’ll be fine,” I say, but even I can hear how thin it sounds.
They help me stand, my legs shaky and uncooperative, and Ryker lifts me easily, carrying me down the hallway. His towel brushes my thigh, and the knowledge of how little it hides makes my breath hitch.
The bed feels too soft when he lays me down. The blankets are warm, trapping heat, and I squirm restlessly.
“What do you need?” he asks, voice tight as he pulls off my boots.
“I’m warm,” I say, pushing at my sweater. “Too warm.”
He helps me pull it off.
I smile when his eyes darken at the sight of my pink bra. The look on his face makes my pulse race.
“Come here,” I whisper. “Lie with me. I won’t touch you.”
He lets out a humorless laugh and runs a hand over his face, pacing the room instead. “You’re a liar.”
I nod toward his towel, barely hanging on, erection obvious. “You’re not exactly convincing either.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Dorian
The pharmacy lightsare too bright.
