Sitting on his lap, Isla Prescott was in the perfect position to feel the change in his body.
"No, we can't," she blurted out, quickly springing up from his lap.
Shane Sterling watched her, his dark eyes deepening.
Isla Prescott took his hand and pointed to the mark from the IV needle on the back of it. "Don't forget you're still sick. I really don't want to have to call an ambulance for you."
Shane Sterling scoffed. "Who are you underestimating?"
"Viruses don't discriminate. Young Mr. Shaw, your overconfidence has already cost you once. Don't make the same mistake again."
She could say whatever she wanted, but it all boiled down to one thing: she wasn't willing.
Shane Sterling understood. 'It's too soon,' he thought. 'I don't want to force her.'
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into his lap.
