After feeling like I was going to take the plunge straight into the heart of death for the past four days, I finally wake up feeling normal again.

Well, normal as far as my health goes. What isn't quite normal is the way I feel about waking up next to Cane. The butterflies I have in my stomach when I realize that he fell asleep facing me with his hand resting on my abdomen.

The way he's taken care of me the past few days has been so unexpected and sweet. It was almost like he was able to predict what I was going to ask him for before I even opened my mouth, and he jumped up to get it without so much as batting an eye.

And our little touches have gotten bolder, slowly but surely, and I can't lie; I've wanted to feel better mostly so he might try to push the line a bit further with me. I don't know what that says about me...and to be honest, I don't really care right now.

I just want to explore what we have. There's something about the pull I can't deny any longer.

Before I can stop myself, I lower my hand to his and run my fingertip over the inside of his wrist, hoping to wake him without startling him. I don't want him to think he needs to hold my hair back again. I hope he can move forward and put that image out of his head, because I know I am certainly struggling with that.

His eyes fly open and dart in my direction. "Are you all right? Do you need me to get you something?" he asks with a sleepy rasp.

My stomach flips at his immediate concern for my well-being, and I turn over, keeping hold of his hand so it stays on my hip. "No, I don't need anything. I just wanted you to know that I'm feeling better. I've been laying here for a while, making sure it's not a fluke."

He glances over at the clock on the side table. "Ruth should be here. Do you want her to make you a good breakfast?"

"Maybe in a bit. I'm not hungry yet."

Cane turns to his side to face me. He switches hands, placing the other on my hip. The way he looks me over tells me that he is looking for any sign that I might still be unwell. I'm sure I've been death incarnate since catching the flu. I sure felt like it.

"I can't recall the last time I was that worried about someone," he says.

The smile that spreads over my face is impossible to suppress. "You were very attentive to my needs. I have to admit; I am going to miss that."

"Do you have other needs you need tending to?" he asks with a smirk.

"I..." I can't voice the first thought that comes into my head. There is a very neglected need that I've not been able to tend. A need I can't ask him to take care of for me. But one I cannot forget when he is gliding his thumb back and forth over my hipbone.

"I need to use the restroom," I say, slipping away from him.

The journey to the bathroom is quick as I rush across the room. I slam the door behind me and lean against it. The throbbing between my legs does not let me forget what I haven't been able to deal with myself for too long. I like sharing a bed with Cane, but it comes with disadvantages.

I set to work brushing my teeth and washing my face, hoping that the morning routine will calm me down. When it doesn't work, I turn on the shower and jump underneath the semi-cold water. Suds trail down my body, over my sensitive nipples and between my legs. Nothing I do seems to sedate the aching. My fingers play at the top of my slit, and I consider sliding them inside. The only thing that stops me is Cane. He will sense what I am doing, hear my racing heart and smell my desire. I won't be able to face him if he knows I masturbated in his shower.

Feeling only slightly better, I turn off the water and dry off. It's then that I realize that I have nothing but the clothes I slept in to change into. I've walked around in a towel in front of him before. This shouldn't be any different.

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly, I steel myself and open the door, pretending I didn't just have a minor freakout and run away from him ten minutes ago.

"Hey," I say, pushing the door all the way open and leaning against it casually, only to nearly trip over my own feet and lose the towel as I go. "Fuck."

His eyes trail up and down my body before landing back on my face, that amused smirk still on his full lips, as if it had never left since I bolted from bed into the shower. "You okay, coelhinha?"

"Yeah," I say too quickly, clearing my throat and jerking my chin in the direction of my room. "I forgot to get a change of clothes. Do you think you could grab that for me while I comb out my hair?"

He chews on the inside of his cheek and his smile grows wider as he gets out of bed. "Sure, Delia."

"Thanks," I say, turning my back on him as quickly as possible and walking to the mirror, spraying my hair with detangler before picking up my comb and gently running it through the tangled rat's nest it is....considering I didn't even bother to use conditioner while I was in there. Because I wasn't exactly focused on showering, was I?

Ugh, pathetic.

A few minutes later, I'm still fussing over my hair when Cane enters the bathroom. He sets a pile of clothes onto the lid of the toilet and asks, "Can I do anything else for you?"

"No, that should do it."

He moves behind me, meeting my gaze in the mirror. Trailing a fingertip over the curve of my shoulder, he says, "You can ask for anything."

I squeeze my thighs together and clench my jaw. Fuck's sake, he is not going to make this easy for me. In fact, he is going to make it impossible.

"Yeah?" I ask, trying like hell to keep the wobble out of my voice.

"Yeah."

Without thinking, I lift the comb over my shoulder. "Please, untangle this mess."

He gently works from the bottom to the top of my head, and when he works out the last tangle, he runs his fingers through the strands. He inhales deeply and his eyes flutter shut. "I can smell how badly you need release, Delia. Let me help you."

A whimper leaves my throat of its own accord, and I could just melt into the floor and die.

"Cane, I don't know if that's such a good idea. What if—" But even as I say it, I lean back against him, craving more of his touch.

The comb falls to the sink with a clack. Cane's hands run up my arms and his breath brushes my ear. "What if it feels good? What if it gives you the release you desperately need? What if you want me to do it again? I see no reason why you shouldn't let me slip my fingers inside you."

What are the reasons again? I can't really remember now. None of them really make a difference to me at this moment. All I can think about is how he feels pressed up against me, how much I want him to touch me, and how hard he is as he talks about it.

"What if you don't like it as much as you think you will? What if you've built all this up in your head and you're disappointed?" I ask, grasping at any reason to keep this crumbling wall upright.

"You're worried about me. That is sweet." His hand slides across my stomach and his fingers dip behind the towel. He traces my navel in slow circles, a demonstration of what could come next. "Let me touch you, coelhinha. I'm dying to feel how wet you are."

I relax against him and rest my head all the way back on his chest. "Fuck, Cane," I breathe, trying my best not to writhe against him like a cat in heat. "Okay, yes. Please. Touch me."

"Touch you where?" His fingers move lower, playing along my pelvis.

I place my hand over his and push it down. My fingers curl over his, pressing them into my aching center. "Touch me here."

"Fuck. You are so soft, so fucking wet for me."

Cane holds me tighter, the hard length of him grinding into the curve of my ass. He moves with his fingers, almost like every touch brings him pleasure too.

"Spread your legs wider for me. Give me room to work you the way you need," he says, his eyes locked on mine in the mirror.

Oh, hell, this man is going to ruin me.

Good thing I'm looking to be destroyed.

I do as he commands without breaking his gaze and just hope that my legs don't give out because they are already feeling like jelly just listening to his dirty words.

"That's a girl," he praises, his fingers gliding over my clit. He is gentle, swirling and pressing. It feels good, better than anything I could do with my own hand. But it's not enough. The last thing I want is tender. I'm dying for something passionate and rough.

I bear down on his fingers, helping to move them exactly how I want. Cane takes the clue and slides inside me while his thumb continues to play with the most sensitive part of me.

"Your pussy feels like paradise, coelhinha. I'll spend every night after today imagining what it would feel like wrapped around my cock."

"Cane," I murmur, pressing back into the ridge of his erection, my lips turning up into a satisfied smile when he groans against the shell of my ear.

"You've got to stop that, Cordelia," he says, pinching my clit, and I swear I see stars. "I'm trying to focus on you."

"I want to touch you too," I whisper, rolling my hips against his hand, tightening my walls around his fingers. "Please?"

"I owe you this. The gods know you gave me one of the best orgasms of my life. It is only fair that I do the same for you."

Confusion mingles with my desire. "What? How?"

"I couldn't take my eyes off you in the playrooms. The way you moved and the sounds you made. All I saw in that moment was you."

Oh my god.

A mixture of mortification and pure ecstasy washes over me. I loved being watched that night. In fact, Elias had to practically scold me into focusing completely on being in that space with him and not performing for whoever was on the other side of that glass.

To know it was Cane is sending some kind of electric shocks through my system that I can't seem to control.

"That—that was you? How much did you see?"

"Enough to stack my memory full of images of you and have a very satisfying orgasm. Now I'd like to offer you the same. Do you want to come for me, Delia?"

"Yes, yes," I gasp, nodding against his shoulder. "But I don't know if I can do it standing up." My legs are quivering beneath me already, and I know when he works me to my limit, I'm going to be a fucking mess.

The reflection of his eyes dim to almost black, clouded by lust. His fingers leave me, and I gasp at the loss of their touch. Grabbing my waist, he turns me around and hoists me onto the counter, my towel barely staying on. He dives two fingers inside of me and drops his face to my neck.

I can't help but scream out his name as I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him as close to me as possible. "Fuck, fuck, Cane, please," I ramble, unsure what I'm asking for because he's giving me exactly what I want right now.

I cling to his back with one hand, gripping his t-shirt and twisting it in my fist. My other hand slides into his hair, pulling hard at the strands at his scalp.

"Let go. Take what you need, Cordelia."

My body obeys. I ride wave after wave of the pent-up desire as it spills from me. My muscles tremble from the sensation. I've needed this for weeks—the feel of a warm body against mine, the touch of someone else. If I would have known how good it would feel with Cane, I would have asked for it sooner.

When all the sexual tension has drained from me, I drop my head on Cane's shoulder. He rubs my back while I catch my breath.

"Better?" he asks.

"Hades, yes. So, so much. But now I feel like I'm going to pass out again," I joke, burrowing my face into his neck.

"What?" he yelps, lifting my chin to look me in my eyes. "Do you need something? Your inhaler? Food?"

I laugh and place my hands on his cheeks. "Dagon læknir, I was kidding. You're off duty. Well, except for orgasm duty. For that, you're on call. Indefinitely."

He licks his lips and nods. "And what if I would like to call for a little help?" Holding up his hand and flexing his fingers, he says, "I think I'm starting to get carpal tunnel or something like that."

"Do vampires get carpal tunnel?"

"I think I'm on my way to becoming the first."

I laugh and pat his cheeks before releasing him. "We wouldn't want that. I'm happy to be of service."

As I say the words a little tinge of guilt rolls in my stomach. This is a line that will be very hard to uncross. It is a line that leaves Elias on another side. As mad as I am at him, I don't know if I can fully move on.

I mask that tiny feeling that what we did was wrong with a smile. "All right. I need to clean up again and get dressed. And I believe you said you would ask Ruth to make me breakfast."

"I'm on it."

As soon as Cane leaves the bathroom, my face falls into my palms, and I'm bombarded with memories of Elias.