CHAPTER 40: A LINE CROSSED

Joanne didn’t.

Instead, her fingers fisted the fabric of his shirt.

That was all the invitation he needed.

His lips found hers in a slow, hesitant brush, testing. She was warm, soft, tasting faintly of broth and something uniquely her.

He deepened the kiss before he could stop himself. A slow slide of lips, the heat between them building, his hand trailing up, cupping the side of her neck.

She let out a small sound—half sigh, half plea—and it sent a violent shudder through him.

JD wanted more.

He shouldn’t. But God, he wanted. Her.

His fingers skimmed the damp strap of her slip, his lips tracing the corner of her mouth before trailing lower, along the smooth line of her jaw.

She tilted her head back, giving him access, her skin burning under his touch.

His control frayed, snapping thread by thread.

And then—

A quiet thud echoed through the house. Fluffy!

JD froze.

Reality came crashing down like a bucket of ice water. She was sick. Fevered. Not in her right mind.

And he—

His jaw clenched, muscles tightening as if restraining the war raging inside him.

Without another word, he pulled away, standing abruptly. His breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling with the effort to calm himself. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to stay, to take just one more taste of her warmth, her softness.

But he didn’t.

Because he couldn’t.

She shifted slightly, her head tilting as if searching for the touch he had just stolen away. Her lips were parted, breath warm, and her lashes fluttered against flushed skin. But her eyes—those usually sharp, knowing eyes—were hazy, unfocused. The fever still held her in its grasp.

Don’t leave me again... She said, her hand meekly reaching for him.

JD exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. He needed to get her comfortable. He couldn’t leave her in a damp, soup-stained slip.

He should have walked away. He should have fetched a doctor. He should have done a million things that didn’t involve touching her again.

But instead, with gritted teeth and a racing pulse, he reached for the hem of her slip. His fingers brushed against fever-warmed skin, and he swore under his breath.

He didn’t look—he wouldn’t.

His hands worked fast, lifting the fabric, peeling it from her damp skin. He swallowed hard, averting his gaze as he draped his shirt over her, covering the bare skin he had exposed. The oversized fabric swallowed her frame, his scent wrapping around her like an embrace.

Tucking the blanket around her, he forced himself to step back.

Her breathing steadied, her body finally at rest.

But JD?

He was anything but at peace.

Sleep never came that night. His body remembered too much. The way she felt against him. The way she tasted. The way, just for a second, it felt like she wanted him too.

But it was wrong.

Because she didn’t.

And even if she did...

She deserved better than him.

***

JD cleared his throat, pushing past her and stepping inside the house. Being this close to her was dangerous. Seriously, the chemistry between them was insane, like a live wire sparking every time they got too close.

Joanne blinked, snapped out of her thoughts when the door nearly hit her. She stumbled but caught herself just in time. Her heart was still racing from their almost-moment outside. She still wasn’t sure if what she remembered from that feverish night was real or just a dream.

Because when she woke up, she was wearing JD’s shirt.

And that wouldn’t have happened by itself... right?

JD’s mind was racing, scrambling for a way to get out of this mess before he did something stupid—like kiss her again. He could feel her following behind him, her presence like gravity pulling at him, and he stopped abruptly.

Joanne halted just in time, nearly colliding with his back. He turned sharply, eyes locked on hers. The air around them shifted.

There it was again. That pull.

"What’s your body count?" JD asked suddenly, his voice low.

Joanne’s heart skipped a beat. What kind of question was that? Was he judging her?

But then, she realized—he must have heard the rumors.

Her throat tightened. "One."

JD’s brows shot up. "One?"

Are there even women like her left on this planet?

She let out a hollow chuckle. "You must’ve heard it from others, right?" she asked, turning away. She couldn’t look him in the eye as she said it. "That I killed my cousin?"

JD’s forehead creased. Wait... what?

"Hold on." He frowned, realization hitting him. "That’s not what I meant."

Joanne hesitated, finally looking at him.

"Oh," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Body count also means, you know... the number of people you’ve been with."

Joanne’s eyes widened.

JD let out a low chuckle. "What are you, mafia?"

Her face turned an impressive shade of red. "Oh." She cleared her throat. "Well... that would also be one."

JD blinked. "What?"

But before he could process that shocking revelation, she spun around and practically bolted to the kitchen.

She hid behind the fridge door, pressing the cold bottle of water against her flushed face. Should she have been that open with him? God, that was embarrassing.

JD was still stuck on her answer. An attractive woman in her mid-20s with a body count of one? Was he hallucinating?

Then something clicked. His jaw tightened. "Is that why you’re dating an older guy with a kid?"

Joanne peeked from behind the fridge door. "It’s not like I have suitors lining up," she muttered. "And Jonathan is... a sweet guy."

JD watched her down a gulp of water, her ears still red from embarrassment. He wanted to pry more, wanted to ask what the deal was with Jonathan—if she actually liked him or if she was just settling. But instead, he took pity on her and let it go.

For now.

"Look at me," JD said.

Joanne hesitated, then placed the bottle back inside the fridge and turned to face him.

"Fix your hair," JD murmured.

Confused, she ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it down.

Click.

Joanne froze.

JD lowered his phone, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"What are you doing?" Joanne rushed to him.

"Teaching you something," JD winked.