"Rachel…" he murmured, pressing the hand that had just held her foot against his lips.
Was this really desire?
To him, women had always been tools, nothing more.
But she… she was different.
If it was her, he thought, maybe he could give her everything.
Everything… except his heart.
It was late at night when Jeffrey was suddenly startled awake by Rachel's faint murmurs.
He turned on the light and noticed she was restless in her sleep, mumbling something he couldn't quite make out.
"Rachel!" he called softly, reaching out to feel her forehead. It was covered in a cold sweat and alarmingly warm to the touch.
Jeffrey quickly dampened a towel with warm water and gently wiped her forehead.
Rachel's eyes stayed tightly shut, and she kept murmuring incoherently.
No matter how much he called her name, she didn't wake up. His lips pressed into a thin line as anxiety washed over him.
He felt completely helpless, unsure how to make her feel better.
