His hand slides to my waist—careful of the bandage, but firm enough to pull me closer.
I shift slightly, and yeah—okay—that hurts.
He feels it instantly.
His hand tightens, steadying me.
“Careful,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“You’re the one distracting me,” I breathe.
That low sound he makes?
Yeah.
That does things to me.
Fast.
He pulls back just enough to look at me.
Really look.
“You should rest.”
I raise a brow.
“Or?”
His eyes darken.
“Or I forget you’re injured.”
Heat floods through me.
“Maybe I don’t mind.”
A dangerous silence falls.
Then—
He leans in again.
This time, there’s no holding back.
His kiss turns deeper, rougher, like all that control he’s been holding onto is slipping—just enough.
My hands slide up his chest, gripping, grounding, needing him closer.
And he’s right there.
Every second of it.
Every breath.
Every touch.
Outside, the world is still dangerous.
