Salvatore lay flat on his back, his muscles locked into a rigid position. He breathed heavily.
Milo had shifted even deeper into his side, wrapping his arms tightly around Salvatore's waist, his heated skin radiating a thick, feverish warmth against the man's skin.
The room was dark, and Salvatore could feel the rapid, shallow puffs of Milo's breath against his neck. He couldn't move without dislodging him, and the sheer heat of the fever was starting to make his own chest damp with sweat.
He stayed. He didn't push Milo away, and he didn't slide out from under the heavy blanket. Instead, he carefully reached his free hand toward the nightstand, picking up his phone.
His thumb swiped across the screen, the bright glare illuminating the sharp lines of his face as he opened his messages.
He pulled up his chat with Roderick.
"Do the meeting without me tonight," Salvatore typed smoothly. "I am too tired to come down. Handle it yourself as I have told you."
