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The spike in my temperature isn’t from the flu. It comes from low in my belly and spreads like wildfire between my legs and up into my chest.

She doesn’t back away. Doesn’t move a muscle until I reach up to pull my shirt over my head and my muscles start to shake. As she reaches forward to help me, her forearm brushes the swells of my breasts, and I gulp down the scent of her, subconsciously arching my back to get closer.

My shirt goes over my head, and my hair rains down over my neck and chest, creating a barrier between Daisy’s wandering eyes and my bare tits.

Her pupils expand, and my nipples tighten to the point of pain. The metal through each one is cold and heavy, weighing them down and intensifying the pulse in my pussy.

A swallow fills the space around us, and I’m not sure if it’s mine or hers.

“Can you do your skirt?” she asks on a loose breath.

“No.”

Her nod is absent. Small, thin fingers stroke the rough jean material, then pop the button and pull down the zipper.

I squeeze the sink so tight it could crumble and hold my breath, watching as she lowers herself to her haunches. Her pace is a punishment. But I take it.

“Are you sure you want me here doing this, Bryce?”

My hand drops to her head, and I smooth the top of her hair before cupping the back, my eyes blazing in a way I’ve never experienced before. I ache so deep, like I’ll never be able to find relief.

Daisy leans further into my hold, and I moan without having a chance in hell of holding it in.

Her eyelids droop, and she dips her fingers beneath the waistband of my skirt before she slowly starts inching it down my hips. My panties linger behind, but before I can let my tongue run free and tell her to take them off as well, she rectifies her hold and grips them tight.

They come down with my skirt, and the air around us disappears. Every breath is a struggle. The burn is everlasting.

I keep her trapped beneath the weight of that burn, and she doesn’t drift. My nausea lingers, buried beneath the desire and arousal that’s taken over every inch of my system. For now, I’ll do my fucking best to keep it at bay. Just for another few minutes.

It feels like hours, but finally, the skirt falls.

Daisy keeps her eyes on mine, not straying even as I stand naked in front of her. I don’t risk looking down to see how wet I’ve left my panties, but I want her to. The longer we stand here, a barrier shattered between us, the harder it is not to tell her the truth about my feelings.

“Can you make it to the bathtub?” Her voice is so fucking breathy, the words almost whimpered.

“Yeah, Sunshine, I’m good,” I rasp, giving confirmation for far more than just her question.

Blinking once, then twice, she releases my gaze and lets hers drip down my body. From my heaving breasts and the metal hoops in my nipples that are visible through the dirty strands of my hair, the straining muscles in my torso, to the smooth, wet area between my legs.

A voice in my head tries to scream at me that this isn’t rightand that things are going to be different in the coming days. I drown it out with the heavy sounds of her breathing.

I’m not prepared for her to cup my calf in a hot hand. I chomp down on my tongue and narrow my eyes, unsure if she’s playing with me or just that interested in touching.

The ink on my body is a lot to take in, and usually, I like that.

Not now. It’s stealing her attention and inviting her to dig into the reasons behind each design when that’s the last thing I want us to focus on.

I angle my body toward the bath and release her head when my stomach lurches, a sore discomfort returning. If I don’t pull myself together quickly, I’m going to risk ruining the moment with vomit.

Daisy watches me stumble to the tub and ungracefully stabilize myself on its edge, my ass perched in the air. It’s one of the only areas on my body that’s nothing but boring, pale skin.

“Let me help,” she rushes out, snapping into action.

In a blink, she’s crouching beneath my arm and holding me up. I lift a leg over the edge and step into the hot, bubbly water. It only reaches my knee, but I assume she doesn’t want me to fall asleep and drown with it too high.

“Easy, easy. I don’t want you to slip and hurt yourself.”

I’d do it on purpose if it meant she’d heal me afterward.Fuck, that sounds dark.Maybe just a knock of my knee on the porcelain or something.