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Damian looks over his shoulder at me. “You can nap after. The lukewarm water will bring your fever down.”

My nose wrinkles. “Lukewarm. That sounds awful.”

“It’s the doctor’s orders.”

I snort. “I think he made that up. When Tylenol, rest, and hydration weren’t enough for you, he had to give you something. You were snapping at him.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “I wasn’t snapping. That’s just how I talk.”

A giggle bubbles out of my chest. “You’re right. That is how you talk.”

Damian’s expression grows grim. He strides over to the bed, setting his hand on my forehead when he’s close. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

His tone is anxious, and it warms me. Who would have ever thought Damian Cross would be such an attentive caregiver?

“Yeah, ’cause I’m sick. But you’re acting like I’m dying. I’m just a little sleepy.”

He reaches out, grabs my shirt, and lifts it over my head. After unsnapping my bra and pulling it off, he leans forward and takes a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around it. I squirm at the delicious heat of his tongue.

“Do you feel sleepy now?” he asks with a smirk.

“No,” I say breathlessly. “Definitely not.”

There’s a knock at the door, and a moment later, Coraline steps inside. Her gaze falls on my bare chest. “Oh.” She clears her throat, and I pull the blankets up to cover me. “I was told Ava has a fever. I came to attend to her needs.”

Damian doesn’t look her way. “Not necessary. I’ll be taking care of her.”

Coraline’s jaw stiffens ever so slightly.

“Leave,” Damian commands.

She hesitates, then nods once. “Of course.” The door clicks softly shut behind her.

I stare at it for a moment and then glance up at Damian. “What happened to your other consorts? After you dismissed them, I mean?”

He shrugs. “They’re just regular fraternity members now.”

“Do they miss you?”

“I don’t know. Or care.”

I trace a finger along the edge of the comforter. “Do you miss them?”

His gaze roams over me, and a spark flickers in his eyes. “No.”

A warmth blooms low in my belly. I was never jealous of Damian’s consorts before. Sex was almost a theoretical concept before this past weekend.

Now, somehow, he feels like he’s mine and mine alone.

I gasp when he scoops me up from under the covers and into his arms. He lifts me off the bed and carries me across the room.

“No,” I moan. “I’m too tired for a bath.”

“You won’t have to do a thing. I’ll wash you.”

My stomach flips over as he lowers me into the water slowly. The warm water is surprisingly soothing, and I let out a sigh.

I lean my head back against the curved rim as he dips a pitcher into the water and pours it gently over my hair. My eyes flutter shut. After the sound of a bottle being squeezed, his fingers are on my head, massaging a floral shampoo into my scalp. He scrubs in slow circles—sending tingles down my spine—and I let out a hum. “You’ve been spoiling me. It’s going to make me insufferable.”