He grimaces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
I stare at our joined hands. “You could have died.”
“I know.” There’s no humor in his voice, only the shaky honesty of a man who’s seen something he can’t unsee.
I want to touch his face, but I hesitate. Lucas notices. “I’m not made of glass, you know.”
I reach up and trace the faint outline of stubble on his jaw. His eyes close at the contact. I realize with a start that he’s on the verge of tears.
“I’m okay, Helena,” he whispers.
“You’re really not.”
I lean in. He meets me halfway, and his mouth is warm and a little chapped and tastes faintly of the saline drip. His free hand finds my hair. I climb into the narrow bed beside him, one knee carefully over the pulse-ox wire. His heart hammers against my sternum through the thin cotton of the gown.
We break apart. I press my forehead to his and just breathe.
“You’re supposed to be recovering,” I tease, and he gives a low laugh.
“I heard omega kisses are the best medicine there is.” He grins, but there’s a wobble at the edges.
“Oh, really?” I arch an eyebrow. “First I’m hearing of this. Seems mighty convenient.”
Lucas kisses me again. When he pulls back, he says, “I thought about you, you know. When it went dark for those few seconds. The first thing I wanted was to see your face.”
My throat tightens. “You big sap.”
“Only for you.”
We’re quiet for a while, hands exploring gently as we re-learn each other. It’s not overtly sexual at first. It’s comfort, the need to connect on a level that language can’t reach. I kiss his cheek and then along the hollow of his collarbone, careful to avoid the tape and IV. He sighs, the tension leaking from his body. And so does mine, leaving behind only a soft purr that Lucas leans into.
We don’t notice the time passing, not until a nurse peeks in and asks if we need anything. Lucas orders a pudding cup, and I hide a laugh behind my hand. She winks at me on her way out.
“See?” Lucas says. “Hospital perks.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
He licks the pudding cup clean, eyes fixed on me the entire time. There’s a heat to his gaze that I hadn’t expected. My omega senses prickle, alert and sharp.
I want him. Even here. Especially now.
I lean in and whisper, “How much privacy do you think we have?”
He raises a brow. “You feeling frisky?”
“Maybe.” My cheeks go hot, but I don’t look away. “You saved someone’s life. You deserve a reward.”
He grins, wider now, and his hand slides to my hip. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Negotiating the tangle of wires and the creak of the bed is awkward at first, but eventually, I’m kneeling between his legs, hands steady on his thighs. He’s already half-hard, the hospital gown doing nothing to hide it.
I look up at him. He’s staring down, breath shuddering.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
He laughs breathily. “Helena, if you stop now, I might actually go into cardiac arrest.”
