I take the cup and drink. It feels like heaven. Jonah watches my throat move while I swallow, his gaze dropping when he notices me tracking him. He clears his throat fast and looks away.
“You’re drinking too fast. You need to take small sips.”
When my head lolls to the side, he steadies the glass. His palm supports my cheek, guiding the rim back where he wants it. He’s handling me like glass, unaware that I’m already the one holding the leash. He has no idea how close to danger he is, touching me with that much care. I watch the way his pulse thrashes against his skin. I could make his life a nightmare from this bed, breaking his spirit until he begs the guards to let him out. Instead, I choose the indulgence of his heat.
“Do you need more medicine?” Jonah hesitates, fingers hovering over the tray. “Or… just tell me. I don’t want to mess this up.”
“You get nervous when you’re close. I like it.”
His eyes flick to my mouth, then away as he busies himself with the medical bag. This time he doesn’t ask. He just moves, peeling the tape back, his gaze fixed on his work.
“Tell me if it pulls,” he murmurs. His fingers pause as they press lightly along the edge of the dressing. My breath shifts despite myself. His thumb stills. “Does that hurt?”
“Continue.”
He lifts the blanket from my hip, air hitting my skin. He’s close enough now that I feel the heat from his chest. His fingers skim the bruise near my ribs, making my body tighten. He leans in, breath warm on my skin. I can feel the fear in him.
Jonah looks up. My thoughts must be plain on my face, but he doesn’t flinch. His fingers tremble against my skin as he wipes away the last of the dried blood. “That’s… a bear?” His eyes catch on the tattoo beside the wound. “Of course it is.”
The bear sits along my ribs, head down, teeth bared. He hesitates, hand hovering. “What does it mean? I just—it’s hard to miss.”
“Family. Territory.”
His fingers hover near it. “Can I…?”
“You already are.”
“I…yes.” His hand moves in, the tip of a finger tracing the outline of the bear’s jaw. His touch is light, like he thinks he might wake something under the skin.
“It suits you,” he murmurs. “Big. Bad. Bites.”
The last word comes out softer. He hears it too. “I mean—” He stops, then shakes his head. “Nothing.”
I retrace the line his finger left with my thumb. The warmth lingers where his finger was. Dropping his eyes to the movement, his pupils widen. His lips part, just enough for me to see the slick edge of his teeth.
“Right. Next step. I need to put a fresh pad on. The stitching looks okay.”
I don’t look at the wound. I keep my eyes on his face because I don’t want to miss the way it changes. My shy nurse is interesting. My body agrees.
He presses the fresh pad down. His fingers drift higher than they need to, close to the edge of my hip, then lower while securing the tape. His hand brushes the inside of my thigh as hesmooths the last strip. The touch acts as a trigger. My cock swells under the blanket in one heavy rush.
Jonah doesn’t notice at first. His lips are parted and he’s talking because silence scares him. “Okay. That’s better. No bleeding. You probably tore it a bit yesterday when you, um, yeah.” He gives a quick, nervous laugh at his own joke.
The blanket has shifted. The outline is obvious now. He freezes, his fingers curling into the sheets.
“Oh.” His throat works, but his eyes linger on the shape. He swallows. “That’s… normal. It doesn’t mean anything.”
His hand is still on my thigh, and his fingers flex. The movement hits me like a claim.
I keep my eyes on his hand. “You’re sure?”
His eyes flick up, then drop again. “I mean… yeah. Adrenaline. Proximity. Medical touch. That’s normal.”
“Jonah. You’re still touching me.”
He stares. “I was—” He swallows. “You shifted.”
He doesn’t pull away, fingers staying on my skin. He’s trying to talk himself out of what his body is doing, digging himself deeper with every word.
