“Arms up,” I murmur.
She lifts them, watching me with that same exhaustion and trust that’s slowly undoing me. I carefully pull her top over her head, and I comb her hair back with one hand as it tumbles out of her collar, letting my knuckles graze her jaw.
She’s bare now, and fuck. She’s unreal.
I kiss her forehead, then step back to undress. Her gaze tracks every movement as I strip off my shirt and shove my briefs to the floor. She watches with heavy blinks, and I don’t miss the way she lingers. But she doesn’t say anything, just reaches for my hand again after I’ve turned the shower on, curling her fingers through mine.
The bathroom tiles are warm underfoot as I lead her in, adjusting the knobs until the temperature’s just right. Steam curls through the air, fogging the glass of the shower walls. Shestands still as I soap up my hands, then gently run them over her skin, memorizing the shape of her.
I wash her back first, then massage her shoulders, then dip lower. Her breath catches, and she leans into my touch, savoring the first real comfort she’s probably had in days.
When she turns and reaches for the soap, I stop her.
“Let me.”
She nods, and I press a kiss to her shoulder, gently running my hands over her breasts, then trace the insides of her thighs with gentle pressure. Her breath stutters out, and she steadies herself with a palm on my chest, her head tipped forward beneath the spray.
I rinse her off with care, then reach for the shampoo. Her eyes flutter open when I comb my fingers through her hair.
“Close your eyes,” I murmur, and she does.
Tilting her head back under the water, I guide her with a hand on the back of her neck, my thumb brushing her temple. Her lashes stay damp and lowered, her mouth soft and relaxed. She’s never been this quiet with me—unarmored and letting me take care of her.
“Feels nice,” she whispers, barely audible over the water.
I don’t say anything, just kiss the top of her forehead and keep going.
When I finish, I gently towel-dry her face, then her hair, then wrap a fresh one around her. I dry off quickly and grab a pair of briefs, and she’s already climbing into my bed when I turn back around, curling into one of my pillows. So I crawl in beside her without a word, and she rolls toward me, sighing when I pull her into my chest.
“Just for a bit, until you want me to go.”
It shouldn’t hit me the way it does, as though she really thinks I’ll want her to leave and she’s bracing for it. And my chest aches,because I don’t know how to tell her I definitely don’t want her to fucking go.
Her head falls onto my shoulder, and one hand absently traces the ink on my ribs as she sighs.
“That was…”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
Her eyes stay closed. “Don’t get smug.”
“I’m not smug. I’m excellent.”
That gets a soft laugh out of her, which I tuck away like a fucking treasure.
We lie there in the half-dark, her breath dusting my skin with each passing minute. I know I should let her sleep, but I can’t stop watching her.
“You always run this hot?” I ask, brushing a hand along her thigh.
She hums, barely conscious. “Only when I’ve been debauched on a balcony.”
“Noted.”
A sleepy, satisfied smile stretches her lips, and she sighs again, shifting closer and tangling our legs together. Her breath evens out, and I feel her body relax against mine.
And then—for only the second time since I’ve known her—Dr. Carina Park falls asleep in my arms.
But this time, I’m not going to do a damn thing to wake her.
