I took a step closer, still playing the concerned younger man.
"You're still sweating a little. And your face is red. Are you sure you don't want me to call the nurse for a cold compress or—"
"I'm fine," she interrupted, voice small. Then, after a brief, flustered pause, she added, "Could you… cover me with the blanket?"
I nodded at once, pulled the folded blanket from the foot of the bed, and draped it carefully over her legs and up to her waist.
The soft fabric settled across her lap, hiding the way her thighs were pressed together and the thin nightie that had ridden up slightly along her hips. Elena murmured a quiet thanks, eyes still unable to meet mine for long.
The moment the blanket was in place, her right hand began to move beneath it.
I could not see the motion clearly — only the faint, subtle shift of the fabric near her lower abdomen — but the Mind Reading link delivered every filthy detail of what she was doing and thinking.
