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Suddenly, it all returns. Every detail, every sensation. His raspy voice, my hands on his face, the way he looked at me, the way he...

I close my eyes and snap them open again at once. But there is still the heat beneath the skin, the excitement, the hunger. Me, provoking him, defying him, touching him.

What the hell have I done.

I clench my jaw, the bitter taste rising along with the nausea. I pull back the white sheet with a gesture far too sharp. He moves slightly, nothing more.

I want to strike him and then hold him close.

Neither action would be right.

I try to lift myself, one leg slides out of the bed, the other follows slowly. I cannot fully raise my torso, a hand seizes me from behind, warm, the palm sliding beneath my shoulder blade.

“Go back down.”

The voice is raw, thick with sleep, and his forehead brushes my shoulder.

I half-close my eyes, allowing his presence to imprison me.

His breathing grows more regular, but the thick murmur persists.

“Sleep a little longer...”

I turn slowly toward him, seeking his half-closed eyes. I slide his hand away from my skin, a void remains where the touch vanished.

I stay lying on my side, he stretches out on his back, motionless. His eyes open with difficulty. My gaze slides, involuntary, toward his swollen, slightly parted lips.

When did I bite him?

“Are you awake, Viscount?”

“Why did you not leave?”

“I didn’t feel like it.”

The sheet moves slightly as he tucks his arm beneath his head.

“And you did not want me to leave.”

Me? What is he talking about? Who the hell wants him here?

He opens one eye and stares at me.

“But your valet tried to send me away two or three times.”

I furrow my brow, the irritation still pulsing behind my eyes.

“Yes. You should have listened to him.”

Dorian’s hand rises, fingers touching my forehead, sliding along the temple, then behind the ear.

“You are no longer burning up.”

My gaze shifts toward the floor; the damp cloths thrown down without order, the basin with the now-murky water. The scene appears to me in pieces, as if it did not entirely belong to me.

“Why did you do it?”

I feel him stiffen.