His expression turned bleak. She had mentioned something about almost dying when she was giving birth to their daughter and he would ask her about that. He would have wanted more children with her, but he would never risk her life. Zoe was going to be an only child.
It was good that it was not on him to produce an heir. Tucking a thick strand of hair behind her ear, he allowed his touch to linger. He had worn her out, he thought whimsically.
She wanted to take a chance with him and for that, he was grateful. He had hurt her in so many ways, but he was going to make up for it. If she wanted to go on dates, he was open to it. And wondered if she knew exactly what she was opening herself up to.
His expression darkened. The press would be brutal. They would bring up the incident in Italy with Sophia. He had done enoughdamage there and didn't want the wound opening up again. Neither did he want Abigail subject to their damn speculations.
His hand fisted. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself. He had done the deed, which meant paying the price. He just didn't relish the idea of putting the woman he loved and his daughter through any of it.
Wrapping around her, he closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.
*****
He wasn't there when she woke up. Her eyes flew open as sunlight streamed through the emerald, green drapes. Sitting up, she automatically gripped the sheets to cover herself and tried not to acknowledge the disappointment and keen sense of loss.
It was for the best, anyway. He had spent the night and that should not have happened. He had changed his mind about them being together. She was having second thoughts herself.
Sliding off the bed, she went into the bathroom to relieve herself and wash her face. A glimpse at her reflection in the mirror had her hand flying to her mouth. Her hair was a tangled mess, andher lips were swollen as if stung by bees. There were marks on her neck and her breasts.
"Good God." She breathed. Gripping the edge of the sink, she doubled over and started laughing. She had been about to simply brush her teeth and wash her face, but the scent of sex was overpowering. A shower was in order.
Sidestepping the claw-footed bath in the middle of the glossy green and white tiles, she stepped into the large shower installation and adjusted the spray. She needed coffee, as much as she needed her last breath. She would make herself something to eat and make her way to her grandmother's.
She was still feeling the aftereffects of the allergies, and the sex marathon last night had her feeling weak at the knees.
Refusing to think about it or the sudden longing for him, she stepped out of the shower and grabbed a pair of black leggings and an old charcoal sweater. Her hair was another matter. Sighing gustily, she dragged the brush through the tangles, wincing as it tugged at her scalp.
Piling it on top of her head, she secured it with pins and slipped her feet into a pair of mules and headed downstairs. The scent of coffee hit her nostrils and had her salivating. At least he had made the brew before he left.
She was inside the arch that separated the kitchen from the living room, when she saw him. Her heart took a long and slow dive as she stared at him. He was wearing the clothes he had on yesterday. His long fingers were wrapped around a cup and he was staring out the window.
Sensing her presence, he turned. The slow look of pleasure and desire he gave her had her knees going weak. Would she ever get used to how gorgeous he was? She doubted that.
"I thought you'd left."
"Without saying goodbye? Hardly." She had to force herself not to fling herself in his arms. Putting the cup down, he stepped towards her and wrapped his arms around her. "Good morning. You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't have the heart to wake you." He tilted her chin up and nuzzled her lips. "You snore."
"I do not."
His charming grin had heat spreading. "I was the one who had to listen. I don't mind. It's a welcoming sound, one I look forward to hearing every morning for the rest of my life."
Her knees buckled and she knew she would have fallen if he had not held her so tight.
"You cannot say that to me." She whispered.
"I intend to say that and more." He kissed her deeply, melting her bones. With a sigh, her arms came around his neck as she went on her toes to meet his mouth.
"I keep forgetting how tiny you are." Lifting her in his arms, he deposited her on a stool. "I made Spanish omelet."
"You cook."
"Hmm." He enjoyed touching her so much, he had to do it again. "You smell like raspberry."
"I took a shower."
"If I'd known, I would have joined you." He kissed the top of her head.
"Sit. Let me serve you." He nudged her over to the counter to one of the bar stools.
