She gave a small, almost amused shake of her head. The movement made the short black hair brush against her cheek; the thin nightie shifted again across her chest, the outline of her nipples still clearly defined against the pale fabric.
"Don't worry. I'm not scolding you. Auntie understands young people."
Her voice stayed low, careful not to wake Rachel in the bed only a few steps away.
The dim light caught the elegant line of her neck, the soft curve of her figure beneath the simple hospital nightie, and the faint, unconscious way she still kept her thighs pressed together. She still hadn't fully stepped out of the circle of my arms.
One of her hands remained lightly against my forearm, as if the earlier collision had left a residual need for balance — or simply as if she had not yet decided to let go.
The quiet of the hospital corridor wrapped around us. Somewhere behind the closed door, Maya was still recovering in the dark. Rachel slept only a few feet away.
