“Very much so.” I watch him, my gaze heavy. I don’t give him a choice. “Look at me, Jonah.”
He does, but his fingers curl tight in the sheets beside my hip. “Why do your hands do that when I look at you?”
“They don’t.”
“They do.”
His throat works. He shrugs one shoulder. “I’m not used to people staring like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re… measuring me.”
“Perhaps because I am.” My voice is a low rasp. I don't move my hand, but my intent is a weight in the air. “You react like no one’s ever looked at you this close.”
“Not like this,” he whispers.
I let him be for a moment. There are many things I want to say to that, but the world tilts as the sedation pulls at the edges of my focus. Jonah notices, stepping back half a pace, unsure whether I want his hands or his distance.
“You’re afraid. Why?”
He doesn’t answer. His fingers curl at his sides, then still. I file that away.
“You’re a clever nurse, Jonah Rader.” Fatigue creeps higher. I sink back into the bed.
Jonah moves without thinking, balancing me without touching more than he has to. His breath warms my shoulder. I let him pull the blanket over my legs. His fingers brush my skin and he jerks back like it burned him.
“You should sleep,” he whispers.
“Hm. I should.” My eyes slide shut. “And you should stay where I can see you.”
“I will,” he says quickly. “I mean… I’ve got nowhere else to go anyway.”
Jonah is the last thing I see. He’s retreated to the wall, knees drawn up like he’s trying to disappear. He thinks he’s safe over there. He doesn’t realize that in this room, he’s not the nurse. He’s the prize.
CHAPTER
SIX
VIKTOR
I wake knowingI’m not alone.
There’s breath near my ribs. Jonah’s hands are on me before I’ve even opened my eyes. His fingers press lightly as he adjusts the tape just beneath the bandage. I don’t move, tracking the vibration of his pulse against my side. He’s nervous. I can feel it through his fingertips.
“Hold there,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. “This part might sting.”
His voice catches on the last word. I let my eyes open. Jonah’s bent over me, close enough that I can see the faint crease between his brows. His knuckles graze my skin again. Gauze is laid out in straight rows on the bedside table. His head is down, his breath warm against my bare side. He peels a loose corner of tape. The sting cuts sharp. A small sound leaves me before I can stop it.
His head snaps up. His eyes widen. “Oh God. You’re awake. Sorry. I thought you were still sleeping. I wasn’t touching anything I shouldn’t?—”
“Anything you shouldn’t?” I raise a brow, my voice still rough with sleep.
“Yes. Yeah… it lifted on the edge, so I wanted to check if everything was okay. But then you woke up. Anyway, you still look pale. Let me get you something to drink.”
He keeps on talking while he rushes over to the table. “There’s water. I brought it from the bathroom, because you might wake thirsty. I didn’t know when you’d wake, so I… guessed—” He reaches for the glass, his palms shaking.
“Bring it here.”
