Whitney sat in the chair next to me. “That’s another reason you could be so sore.” She looked at Veronica. “How about breakfast?”

“I made him a smoothie and a couple of eggs.”

Whitney gave me another grin, showing how pleased she was.

She harped on about eating every chance she got. Even though my appetite hadn’t returned—pain just didn’t trigger hunger—I was doing my best to keep myself fueled.

Veronica checked her watch after I completed my last leg lift. “Do you want me to grab anything before I go?”

“No,” I said. “Thank you.”

Once she left the room, Whitney moved over to the bed, sliding down the blanket. “Lean up for me. I want to check your bandages.” I rose several inches, and she gently lifted my shirt. “Perfect. You can lie back down.” She examined my hip and thigh, going as far as my foot. “Just making sure everything looks okay.”

“Does it?”

“I don’t see anything too alarming.” She winked and covered me back up, sitting on the mattress again. “Promise me something?”

I nodded.

“As you get stronger, you’ll continue being honest with me about how you’re feeling. And you’ll tell me if you’re in pain and if you’re doing too much.” Her hand went on top of mine, fingers linking. “Caleb, I know how badly you want out of this bed and your wheelchair, but you have to move at a pace your body can handle.”

“I promise.” My other hand went behind her head, holding her hair, and she grazed her face against my forearm. “You know what would make me feel even better?”

Her smile grew, and she climbed over me, the scent of coconut like a tropical wind. She kissed me, and the morning taste of her lips was as sensual as their flavor last night.

I went up and down her sides, her breathing changing with each pass, her skin so warm through the thin fabric. “Whitney, you feel so fucking good.”

“And you feel like trouble.”

I held her, so she didn’t move. “Wait until I ask for a shower.”

“Veronica didn’t give you one?”

I shook my head, licking her off my mouth. “I wouldn’t let her.”

She laughed. “Oh boy, you’re even worse than I thought.” She kissed me once more, gripping my shoulders until she pulled away. “Your physical therapist will be here in thirty minutes, and then I have something planned for after lunch—as long as you’re feeling up to it.”

When she leaned back, I took in how stunning she was, wearing even less makeup than our date and looking just as gorgeous. “Oh yeah?” I replied. “Are you cooking again?”