"No. I can't let him sleep like this," she muttered. "He'll get sick."
With trembling determination, she walked to the bed and sat cautiously beside him.
She reached for the soaked shirt, hesitating again when her fingertips brushed his warm skin underneath.
Her heart jumped.
Then, slowly—very slowly—she began to remove the shirt.
Her hands shook as she lifted his upper body just enough to slide the fabric from beneath him.
Every movement felt like a dangerous mission.
Every breath he took made her pause, afraid she had woken him.
But Ross slept deeply, snoring without a care.
Sabrina wiped her brow with the back of her wrist. One shirt down.
His pants were next.
She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and continued.
Sliding her fingers beneath his waistband, she eased the garment down inch by inch, terrified she would disturb him.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
