Chapter 2

Evelyn's POV

"Looks like we're sharing physical sensations. Don't believe me? Give it a try."

Edward had already lifted my hand, guiding my fingers around his throat.

What the hell was wrong with this man?

My fingertips trembled against his neck. I felt his throat shift beneath my touch, warm and slow. At that very moment, a faint, tingling sensation stirred inside my own throat, spreading like a tiny electrical current.

I immediately pulled away.

One corner of his mouth twitched.

What a freak.

Then the realization sank in. My body was burning with the drug, and Edward could feel it too.

"Tell me something." He bent closer, lowering his voice. "If we actually did it right now, would we both feel everything twice?"

I dug my nails into my middle finger.

The sharp sting was the only thing I could focus on. Watching my knuckle turn white, I clung to the pain, trying to steady my breathing and calm my racing heart.

"That hurts."

I raised my head.

Edward took my clenched hand and carefully unfolded my fingers, one after another, as though he were handling something fragile.

The top two buttons of his black shirt were open, exposing a faint flush along his collarbone. Yet his expression remained perfectly calm, as if none of this affected him.

"Remember, we're sharing sensations," he reminded me. "When you hurt yourself, I feel it too."

I wanted to curse him out.

The words were practically on the tip of my tongue, but another surge of the drug sent heat rushing from my chest to my temples. Whatever coherent thoughts I had left vanished.

"I'm usually pretty patient," he said. "And in situations like this, I prefer not to make the first move."

You prefer not to make the first move?

My eyes burned, their outer corners flushed. Whether it was the drug or sheer embarrassment, I couldn't tell.

Probably both.

I just wanted it over with.

Once it was done, I could blame everything on the drug, deny it afterward, and pretend none of it had happened.

Clenching my jaw, I shoved him onto the bed.

My palm landed against his muscular arm as my overheated body instinctively leaned toward him. He looked up at me, one knee slightly bent, an unreadable look crossing his face.

Then he shifted neatly to one side.

I missed him completely.

For a moment, I stood there, stunned.

"Are you on your period?" he asked.

My face burned with embarrassment, and I quickly shook my head.

Edward looked at me. "Do you want me to take care of this?"

My hands wouldn't stop trembling. Neither would my breathing.

Keeping my gaze fixed on the third button of his shirt, I answered in a barely audible voice.

"Yes."

I'd already made up my mind. Get it over with quickly, then deny everything afterward.

He pushed me back onto the bed, his larger frame surrounding me. I was too exhausted to dwell on it.

Instinctively, I grabbed his arm, bunching the fabric of his black shirt in my fist.

At the same instant, I felt an identical grip tighten around my own arm, in precisely the same place and with the same pressure.

So that was what he'd meant by feeling everything twice.

I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes.

Instead, I watched his throat.

It shifted slowly, and for some inexplicable reason, my heartbeat stumbled.

It could be worse, I told myself.

Then Edward stood up.

I remained on the bed, still burning from the drug. For a few seconds, my mind went completely blank.

Then I heard water running in the bathroom.

He's taking a shower? Now?

I cursed him silently, though without much conviction.

A moment later, he returned, scooped up my limp body, and carried me into the bathroom.

He lowered me into the bathtub with a dull thump.

Cold water poured over me.

I struggled to sit upright, but before I could manage it, he slipped a tablet between my lips.

A glass touched my mouth. With his other hand supporting the back of my neck, he tipped the water in, his movements brisk and practiced.

I swallowed.

For a couple of seconds, I could only stare at him.

Then I finally managed to speak.

"What did you just give me?"

A large wet patch covered the front of his black shirt, the soaked fabric clinging to his chest.

He glanced down before looking back at me, completely unbothered.

"I asked if you wanted the antidote, didn't I?"

The burning gradually subsided.

Like a receding tide, the heat faded bit by bit, retreating from my chest to my stomach until it finally disappeared.

I sat in the bathtub, my hair floating across the water. My skin was still flushed, and I pressed my fingers against the smooth enamel to steady myself.

I couldn't stop thinking about how I must have looked when I pushed him onto the bed.

The warmth of his arm beneath my palm.

The moment I'd gritted my teeth and whispered yes.

Humiliation washed over me.

"You had the antidote all along." My voice sounded steadier than I'd expected. "Why didn't you give it to me sooner?"

"Because you never asked for it," he replied. "In fact, I was the one who offered."

I had no comeback.

He'd answered my call, shown up at the hotel, brought medication, and gotten me out of trouble.

Everything he'd done had helped me, yet somehow he'd managed to make the entire experience unbearable.

I never wanted to see him again, much less hear his name.

But when I thought about it, I couldn't point to a single thing he'd actually done wrong.

My heartbeat was still unsteady, though the drug was no longer responsible.

Something else was bothering me.

I refused to think about what it might be.

I stared at the edge of the bathtub, wishing I could disappear.

After a brief silence, Edward touched the side of his nose and cleared his throat.

"The medication needs a little longer to take full effect. Get some rest. You'll be fine."

He draped a thick towel over the rim of the tub.

"Come on, get out," he said evenly. "I'm getting cold."

Of course.

He could feel every change in my body temperature.

There was no hiding anything from him, not even something as simple as feeling cold.

And somehow, that was more humiliating than everything that had happened earlier.

I'm getting cold.

Those words alone were enough to make me want to disappear.

Edward mentioned that someone had left a set of clean clothes outside the door.

Naturally, I assumed he'd retrieve them for me and then politely leave.

I waited for him to go.

He moved, all right.

But instead of heading for the door, he reached for the buttons of his soaked black shirt and began undoing them, one by one.

His movements were relaxed and unhurried, as though he couldn't have been more comfortable.

"Thanks to you, I'm drenched," he remarked, looking down as his fingers moved to another button. "I'm taking a shower. If you're still here, I'll have to assume you planned this whole thing."

A faint metallic click followed.

His belt buckle.

I didn't wait another second.

Snatching up the towel, I wrapped it around myself and fled.