Chapter 97

I woke up with my face pressed against something warm and solid. It took a second to realize it was skin. Male skin. Tanned, smooth, slightly salty. Rising and falling in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. My fingers were digging into someone's abs. And not soft ones. The room was dim—early gray morning kind of dim—but not so dim that I missed the fact that I was clinging to Ashton like a koala, and he was bare-chested. I blinked hard. Stayed still for one moment, then another, waiting for my sluggish brain to boot up. Last night was a blur. I remembered the fever, the IV drip, the ice packs. Ashton getting into bed with me. Then leaving. Apparently more than once. Beyond that? Blank. My hospital gown was still on, but thin enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. And my hand—God—was still resting on his stomach. I yanked it back. Stopped halfway. Peeked at his face. His eyes were closed. Slowly, sneakily, like a thief, I laid my hand back down. The feel of him was ridiculous. I'd