Christina’s POV
I floated sowhere between consciousness and dreams. Not in water anymore, thank god, but my limbs felt weightless as if gravity had forgotten I existed.
mories flickered through the cracks of my awareness—Hudson’s strong arms carrying , the harsh sting of chlorinated pool water on my skin, then the softness of a towel and bed.
Everything blurred after that. His solid chest beneath my cheek. The steady motion of a car. Different voices surrounding . Cool, sterile air filled my lungs.
A hospital. The unmistakable antiseptic sll confird it before my brain could fully process where I was.
Sothing slid into my arm. An IV, I realized distantly. Cold liquid trickled into my veins, providing montary relief.
"Will she be okay?" A voice asked. Ysolde? Maybe. I couldn’t focus long enough to be sure.
Then blessed darkness claid again. Real sleep this ti. Deep and still.
But the peace didn’t last.
Sothing inside stirred. A small fla at first, then a steady burn crawling beneath my skin like awakening lava. The fever returned with a vengeance.
"Too hot," Akira whimpered inside my mind. "Can’t breathe properly."
Every breath felt like breathing fire. My pillow was soaked with sweat. The hospital gown stuck to my back. I clawed at the fabric around my neck, pulling it down, but it wasn’t enough.
I needed sothing cool. Anything.
The mattress shifted beside as weight moved. Air brushed against my overheated skin. The electronic beep of a thermoter sounded, followed by the blessed relief of a damp towel across my forehead.
I reached out blindly, my fingers connecting with a solid chest. Hudson. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer.
He tried to move away. "It’s okay, Christina. I’m not leaving. Just going to the bathroom."
I made so incoherent sound of protest and locked my arm around his middle.
He stayed.
I pressed my cheek against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. His skin felt cooler than mine, though not nearly cold enough. I dragged my face lower across his shirt, searching for any relief from the burning.
My fingers popped a button on his shirt.
His hand caught my wrist. "Christina."
I ignored him and kept going. Another button gone.
Skin. Finally. Cooler there. I pressed my mouth against it.
He twitched, his stomach tensing under my lips.
I inhaled deeply, catching the scent of his laundry soap, salt, and faint sweat. My leg hooked around his hip instinctively, my thigh sliding against him.
His breathing changed, growing slower and rougher.
I pulled at the rest of his shirt, shoving the fabric aside impatiently. My hands spread across his chest, mapping his contours. Smooth skin, light chest hair.
He groaned as my palms flattened against him, roaming with single-minded purpose.
I shifted again, rubbing my face over his chest, tracing every dip and curve. Finding cooler patches of skin and chasing them desperately. Under his collarbone. Along his ribs. Down to his navel.
He jerked when I pressed my cheek there, his thigh tensing beneath mine.
My fingers slid under the waistband of his pants, searching for that boundary between warm and cool.
"Christina!" His hand gripped my shoulder firmly, pulling my face away. His other hand threw a blanket over .
I kicked it off imdiately. The hospital air hit my overheated skin—much better.
"Too hot," Akira complained again. "Need to cool down."
Any fabric touching my skin felt like torture—shirt, sheet, waistband. I fought against it all. I yanked at his pants, then tugged at my hospital gown. Anything clinging to skin needed to go.
He caught my wrist again, laughing softly. "Much as I’d like to see you naked, this is a hospital."
I didn’t care. I growled and clung tighter to him.
Then suddenly he was gone. The bed shifted as his weight disappeared.
I huffed in frustration, struggling to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt impossibly heavy.
Cool pressure against my forehead provided sudden relief—a fresh ice pack or cold towel. My tense muscles began to unwind.
He climbed back into bed behind , his arm sneaking around my waist. His body heat quickly beca unbearable again.
I shoved at his chest irritably. "Too hot," I managed to mumble.
He paused, then pulled away. The mattress lifted slightly as he moved.
"Stubborn even with a fever," he muttered.
Two ice packs later, the coolness finally cald my burning skin. My breathing steadied. My headache subsided.
But then Hudson returned to the bed, his body a human furnace against my back. His chest and arms radiated heat I couldn’t handle.
My skin began prickling again. I squird uncomfortably, my thigh rubbing against his. Still too hot.
I tried escaping his hold.
His arm tightened around my waist like a seat belt.
"Let go," I whimpered, pushing weakly at his chest.
It was useless. I twisted and rolled, desperate for cooler air.
Half my body slid off the mattress before he pulled back with one swift movent.
"Careful," he muttered, voice thick with sleep.
I might have glared at him if I could’ve opened my eyes properly.
"Too hot," I complained again.
Silence followed, then the weight shifted. He rolled away, and the bed dipped as he stood.
Fresh air filled the space where his body had been.
I clutched the ice pack gratefully, not moving an inch.
Then he was gone, his weight absent from the bed though his scent lingered in the room.
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