The fever had finally lifted, leaving Tate with a dull, throbbing ache in his temples and a strange, uncharacteristic warmth pressed against his side. He didn't think, his body simply reacted to the comfort. He shifted, pulling the source of the heat closer, his hand instinctively sliding over the curve of a waist. A woman. The realization sparked a flicker of dull interest in his groggy mind, and he buried his face in the soft skin of her neck, pressing a series of languid, instinctual kisses there.
Then, he froze.
The reality of the room slammed into him. He didn't allow women in his suite, certainly not overnight. The air in his lungs suddenly felt too cold. He moved away, the movement slow and careful, and reached for the lamp on the bedside table. The click of the switch sounded lik
