I smile at him and look around, noticing the room properly for the first time.
There are two single beds: one, the one we’re sitting on, and another right beside it, perfectly made and ready to be used.
“You’ve got a bed for yourself,” I tell him, nodding toward the one next to us.
Reid doesn’t even flinch; he doesn’t look at the bed, just at me.
“I didn’t ask for it.”
I vaguely remember his conversation with the receptionist and can’t help but laugh.
“You asked for any available room, and she gave you one with two beds.”
“You know I can’t sleep without you.”
“You’ll have to get used to it.”
He mutters something I don’t catch and focuses again on my wound. It’s been a while since his fingers actually applied the cream—now they’re just caressing.
I become acutely aware of my breat
