Allison's POV
The medicine felt like ice against my skin—cold and foreign.
A sterile chill that didn't belong to me.
My mind rejected it while my body secretly craved the sensation.
Two opposing forces battled within me, and finally, I surrendered.
Fine. Let him play Florence Nightingale. It wouldn't kill me. Probably.
Lucian finished disinfecting the scratch with meticulous care, then proceeded to examine every inch of my legs.
His touch was clinical, but his eyes? Way too focused. It wasn't just about first aid anymore.
Then, to my absolute bewilderment, he began cleaning my heels with the same focused precision.
I knew Lucian had mild germaphobia.
Which made it all the more bizarre to watch this billionaire Alpha on his knees, scrubbing away at my shoes l
