?Chapter 972:


    Wesley stayedposed, his voice steady. “Actually, yes. I could use your help.”


    Before Elena could instruct him to say it right there, Wesley smoothly added, “It’s serious. Let me in.”


    She hesitated briefly but moved aside to allow him entry.


    As soon as Wesley crossed into the room, he quickly closed the space between them, pulling her gently into his arms. Leaning down slightly, his voice roughened by urgency, he said, “My bandages need changing.”


    His deep eyes, intense and captivating, held hers as his fingers began casually working the buttons of his shirt.


    Her eyes dropped instinctively, tracing the elegant line of his throat, the sculpted dip of his corbone, the subtle definition of his chest… Abrupt footsteps sounded outside, jolting Elena sharply back to reality. She’d almost let herself get pulled in. A flush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks. Quickly, she averted her eyes, hershes fluttering with unease.


    Wesley chuckled softly, his voice dripping with yful amusement. “Come on, Healer… Won’t you give me a hand?”


    Without noticing exactly when, Elena realized his fingers were now wrapped gently around hers.


    But hearing his words snapped Elena’s attention sharply upward, her eyes locking fiercely onto his.


    Elena was baffled. How in the world had Wesley figured out she was actually the “Healer” everyone in the base praised for operating on Lamont? She’d never told him a word about her role that day and had ensured her departure from the operating room went unnoticed. A troubled frown creased her brow.


    Wesley caught her look and grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Come on, Elena. Who else could whip up a life-saving pill and have hands that skilled?”


    Suddenly, Elena recalled—she’d once handed him a dietary supplement. When he had asked her about its origin, she’d brushed it off with a flimsy excuse, never imagining he’d remember. He’d never mentioned it again, so she thought the matter was long forgotten. It must have been when she exposed N’s pill B at the Base Medical Center a few days ago. That moment probably gave him all the clues he needed. He’d deduced she was the Healer, but she hadn’t bothered to rify that while she was indeed the one performing surgery on Lamont, she was actually the Healer’s protégé, not the Healer herself.


    Wesley leaned in, his gaze steady and burning with an unspoken challenge. “So, Healer… Don’t you think someone with your talent should give me a checkup?”


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    He caught her hand, slowly guiding it to his chest with intent.


    As her fingertips brushed the heat of his skin, her eyshes fluttered, and she swallowed hard, nerves crackling under his touch. Here he was again—flirting under the pretense of needing treatment. His request for a “bandage change” was clearly just a thinly veiled attempt to tease her.


    Closing the space between them, Wesley slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her in. His voice dropped, rough and seductive against her ear. “Hard to treat my wounds when you won’t even give me a proper look, don’t you think?” He eased her hand down, inch by slow inch…


    Beneath her palm, she could feel the heat of his body rising, and every breath she took only made her more aware of the tension simmering between them. Wesley was all too pleased by her touch—far more than he should have been. Every brush of her fingers seemed to spark something wild in him, and this time was no different.


    A flicker of hunger darkened Wesley’s eyes. His muscles grew tense beneath her touch, his breathing ragged as she traced the ridges of his abs, her palm settling on his stomach.


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