The urge to kiss her was so overwhelming that it felt like the air between them was charged with an electric pull he couldn't resist.
Her lips were right there... so close, so tempting. He swallowed tightly again as his gaze stayed focused on her mouth.
The idea of feeling her lips against his, of tasting her, was intoxicating. His body was screaming at him to give in to the burning desire to taste her.
But then, with a jolt, he snapped back to reality. "No," he muttered under his breath, pulling back.
"Focus, Bruno. She's sick. What the hell are you thinking?"
His hands were still shaking as he grabbed the glass of water nearby.
"Beauty..." he called in a whisper, carefully lifting her head, his fingers brushing the back of her neck and feeling the heat of her fever against his skin.
The touch sent another jolt through him, and he bit his lip, trying to control himself.
Beauty moaned softly, half-asleep, and the sound went straight to his core. He felt his shaft tighten.
Her lips parted slightly, and Bruno's throat dried up. Every part of him wanted to lean down and claim those lips, to feel her body respond to his.
"Fuck! What's wrong with my mind?" he yelled inside, clenching his fists, trying to force the thoughts away.
"She needs care, not this," he told himself again, though it didn't make the tension any easier to bear.
He closed his eyes and paused for a moment, trying to gain enough control over himself.
He opened his eyes slowly and leaned down to adjust the towel on her forehead. His face was so close to hers that he could feel her soft breath against his skin.
His cheeks went pink, and his heart pounded in his chest, the temptation growing stronger with every second. He could hear his own breathing, shallow and ragged.
"I can't..." Bruno whispered to himself again, trying to calm the storm raging inside him.
He left the bed and sat back in the chair beside her, his hands clenched into fists as he watched her sleep.
The night had been torture, a test of his control, and he was barely holding on. His eyes kept drifting to her lips and to the way her body shifted under the sheets.
He leaned in close, his lips just inches from her ear, and whispered, "Beauty... get better. I'm here. I... love you... so much."
He slowly ran his fingers through her hair one last time.
---
EAST ASIA
SHELLY'S (BEAUTY'S TWIN) RESIDENCE
Shelley's adoptive mother knocked gently on her door.
"Shelley? It's Mom. Are you okay, dear? Your manager called."
There was no immediate response, which was disturbing and concerning. She slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open.
Surprisingly, she found Shelley huddled under a thick blanket, trembling violently.
Her eyes widened in concern, and she rushed to her daughter.
"Shelley, honey, what's wrong?" she asked curiously.
Shelley's face was flushed with a deep redness, and her hair clung to her damp forehead. She was shivering uncontrollably despite being wrapped tightly in her blanket.
More surprisingly, it was a hot afternoon!
Her mother instinctively placed a hand on her forehead and felt the burning heat radiating from her skin.
"Oh my God, you're burning up!" she exclaimed.
Shelley tried to mumble something, but her words were lost in the chattering of her teeth as she shook like a leaf in a storm.
Her mother wasted no time, grabbing a nearby washcloth and rushing to the ensuite bathroom. She soaked the cloth in cool water and wring it out before gently placing it on Shelley's forehead.
"Where did this come from? You were fine this morning," her mother muttered to herself, pressing the cool cloth against her forehead.
She reached for her phone in her pocket to call the family doctor, her hands trembling slightly as she dialed the numbers.
"I don't understand how this happened; I was perfectly okay an hour ago. It just hit me," Shelley whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own shaking.
"Shh, it's going to be okay. The doctor's on his way. Just hold on, sweetheart," her mother reassured her, brushing a few strands of hair from Shelley's damp face.
She sat down by her bedside, watching helplessly as her daughter shivered uncontrollably. The wet cloth on Shelley's forehead had grown warm, so she quickly replaced it with a fresh, cool one.
Her mind raced, trying to understand why this fever could have come on so suddenly.
"Did you feel sick earlier?" she asked, brushing Shelley's hand. Shelley shook her head weakly, her eyes half-closed in exhaustion.
"No... I felt fine... until a few minutes ago," Shelley mumbled. "I don't know what's wrong, Mom."
A soft knock came at the door. The doctor had arrived.
"The doctor is here, honey," her mother said, hurrying to let the doctor in, grateful for his fast response.
Dr. Peters stepped into the room carrying his medical bag. He quickly crossed over to Shelley, whose shivering had quieted slightly, though her skin remained flushed and feverish.
"Let's have a look at you, Shelley," he said gently, pulling out a thermometer and some medical tools.
He examined her carefully, listening to her breathing, checking her pulse, and feeling her swollen glands. After taking her temperature, which confirmed a dangerously high fever, he stood back, frowning slightly.
"It seems like a sudden viral infection, but it's strange how quickly it hit her," Dr. Peters said, glancing at Shelley's mother.
"She needs fluids and bed rest for now, but we should monitor her closely. If the fever doesn't go down, we'll need to take her to the hospital for more tests."
Shelley's mother nodded, her anxiety growing.
"Will she be okay?" she asked in fear.
"Let's keep an eye on her for the next 24 hours. I've seen fevers like this before. They tend to come fast and strong but can break just as quickly," Dr. Peters reassured her.
"I hope so," Shelley's mother muttered.
He left some medicine, instructing Shelley's mother to give her doses at regular intervals, and promised to check in later.