“I don’t have a fever.” “Actually, you do. You’re burning up and I’m fairly certain you have some kind of flu.” Without hesitation, Ryan slips his hand under my back and unclasps my bra with a single motion, sliding it out from under the shirt. I watch his backside as he hangs my dress in his closet, draping my bra over the hanger, and before he returns to me, he places my shoes neatly by the door. My little clean freak.
