In the hazy aftermath of our shared ecstasy, the passage of time became a secondary concern. I only realized how far we had pushed the limits of my physical endurance when I felt a sudden, alarming dampness spreading across the silk sheets. The bandages on my arm had finally surrendered; the fresh, vibrant blood had seeped through the thick layers of sterile gauze, staining the white fabric like a blooming carnation.
Jennifer Arnoyd noticed it at the same moment I did. She let out a small gasp of horror and scrambled off me, her eyes wide with concern. Despite her own exhaustion, she was immediately back in "nurse mode," gently lifting my arm to inspect the damage.
"You absolute i***t," she murmured, though her voice lacked any real bite. It was laced with a tender, protective worry that
