Footsteps on the stairs. Carlos appears first, hair damp from a shower, wearing fresh sweatpants and nothing else. Dark circles shadow his eyes, but his grin is irrepressible.
"Already? That was fast."
"Cycles shorten as heat progresses." I step back to let him enter. "Her body is acclimating. Learning what it needs."
Sergio follows, a glass of water and a plate of sliced fruit in his hands. He's wearing jeans and a grey t-shirt, looking more put together than any of us have managed in eighteen hours. His jaw is set in that familiar determined line.
"She needs to eat." He sets the supplies on the nightstand. "She's barely had anything since yesterday."
"She'll eat when she's ready." I return to Jessica's side and press my hand to her forehead. Still hot, but within normal parameters. "Forcing food during active heat can cause nausea."
Nacho is last, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his bare chest. His dark eyes are fixed on Jessica, watchful and intense. He hasn't slept at all. I can tell by the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tap restlessly against his bicep.
"How is she?"
"Stable." I withdraw my hand as Jessica's eyes flutter open. "Awake."
She blinks up at me, confusion giving way to recognition. Her hazel eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide, the heat already clouding her thoughts.
"Pedro." My name comes out hoarse. Wrecked. "I need..."
"I know." I brush hair back from her damp forehead. "I'm here."
She reaches for me with trembling hands, fingers curling into the fabric of my scrub top. I changed clothes an hour ago, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Now the thin cotton feels like armor between her skin and mine.
"Please." She tugs at me, weak but insistent. "It hurts. Everything hurts. I need you to make it stop."
The clinical part of my brain catalogs her symptoms. Elevated body temperature. Dilated pupils. Increased respiration. Slick already dampening her thighs, visible even in the dim light.
The rest of me just wants to give her everything she's asking for.
"Okay." I sit on the edge of the bed and pull my shirt over my head. "I've got you."
Her hands immediately find my chest, palms flat against my skin, and she makes a sound of pure relief. Like she's been drowning and I'm oxygen.
"So warm." She presses closer, her naked body molding against mine.
"You're burning up." I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into my lap. "Your temperature is elevated. That's normal for heat."
"Don't want normal." She nuzzles into my neck, her breath hot against my pulse point. "Want you."
Something cracks inside my chest.
I've spent thirty years building walls. Keeping people at arm's length. Hiding behind professionalism and grumpiness and the comfortable mask of the cranky doctor who doesn't do feelings.
This woman is demolishing every barrier I've ever constructed.
"You have me." The words come out rougher than I intended. "All of me. Whatever you need."
She pulls back to look at my face, and even through the haze of heat, with soft flickers in her eyes.
"You're always so serious." Her thumb traces along my jaw. "Always watching. Always worried. Do you ever let go?"
"Not often."
"Let go now." She presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. "For me. Please."
I capture her lips before she can say anything else.
