Kellan’s face fell. “Do you want to leave? I’ll sit with him.”
Ciaran shot him a wild look. The thought of leaving him was painful enough, but leaving him with another man?
Never.
Kellan put his hands up in surrender. “I know. Sorry.”
But then Sawyer let out a loud moan, more pain than arousal, and he began to shiver and tremble, and Ciaran sat on the edgeof the bed. He put his hand on Sawyer’s forehead, then his neck. “He’s hot and cold.”
“He needs to get warm,” Kellan said. “Body heat is best. Skin to skin contact, lying down in bed under blankets, preferably. I know that’s worse for you. Sorry.”
“You want me to get into bed with him?” Because that would end well. Jesus fucking Christ.
Kellan grimaced. “I’d offer to do it?—”
The look Ciaran aimed at him was enough said. Kellan nodded and clapped Ciaran’s arm. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll go see what the others have found, and I’m telling them to leave you alone. We’ll deal with that. You deal with this.”
Ciaran hated that he wasn’t there for them when his consortium needed him, but he simply couldn’t be anywhere else.
He gave a nod. “Tell Dylan not to go anywhere until I see him.”
Kellan left without another word, the door clicking closed behind him. Ciaran knew the doc was right. He had to make a decision. Not about completing or severing the bond—that decision had been made, apparently—but whether to get naked in bed with Sawyer or to let Kellan do it. Ciaran trusted Kellan implicitly.
But still...
The idea of being near naked in bed with him was, sweet mercy, so appealing. But Ciaran knew the scent of pheromones on his naked skin would do him in. It would take a level of self-control he wasn’t sure he had.
But to let Kellan get into bed with him?
Out of the fucking question.
Ciaran would kill someone for sure.
So getting into bed with Sawyer, it was. He’d keep his shorts on, though.
Which was another special kind of hell, made even worse by the way Sawyer sought him out when Ciaran was barely under the covers with his back against the headboard. Sawyer clung to him as if his life depended on it, even in his state of delusion, half climbing on top of him.
Ciaran stayed very still, his self-control barely hanging by a thread. He reminded himself that Sawyer was unaware of his actions, that Sawyer wasn’t well. He needed warmth and care, not to be splayed face down on the bed, getting railed...
Don’t think about that, don’t think about that....
Yeah. Ciaran needed to not think about that.
Especially when Sawyer climbed further up his body, mumbling and whimpering, wrapping his arms around Ciaran’s chest, seeking out his warmth. Sawyer was still both simultaneously scorching hot and freezing cold in patches all over his torso, his limbs more cold than hot. Ciaran could feel Sawyer’s erection against his thigh, and heaven help him, he wanted nothing more than to...
No.
Not without his consent.
His own desire, pure want and need, raged through every cell in his body. He wanted to shift. His body and mind fought each other for dominance, a civil war within.
“Need warm. So cold,” Sawyer mumbled, wriggling up and snuggling in. It was a timely reminder that Sawyer needed care right now, not sexual advances.
And Ciaran would always be what Sawyer needed. Put Sawyer’s needs above his own. Whatever he needed or wanted, that’s what Ciaran would do.
Even if it meant breaking the bond before it began.
Ciaran closed his eyes and wound his arms around him, relishing this connection for however brief it would last.
