They had to talk, but first, he wanted to feel her curves wrapped around him. It had been too long and he was starving. Propellingher towards the bed, he took off her robe and hurriedly got undressed.
He was still silent. Propping his head on his palm, he used his free hand to wander over her ribs and the side of her breasts, weighing the flesh in his palm. His eyes darkened as he noticed the nipples hardening at his touch.
Bending his head, he kissed her cheek before wandering down to rub his lips on hers. Althea wondered where his thoughts were but did not want to spoil the mood. Not with words that needed to be spoken between them. She could wait. This couldn't.
Her hands lifted to cradle his dark head as he touched his lips to her breast. Her body arched, the highly sensitive nipples reacting wildly to the touch of his mouth. He heard her gasp and felt when she dug her fingers into his scalp. When he drew the nipple into his mouth, her body lifted, her moans increasing.
Sliding a hand between them, he caressed her belly, slowly exploring the skin. Despite the highly charged moment, he instinctively knew that something was different.
Something was different. It was as if... He released her nipple slowly and lifted his head, hand pressing down on her belly. She had always been so slender, but now she wasn't. And as soon as he stared into her eyes he knew.
"Vincent, I-"
"How far along?" he asked her tightly.
"Almost ten weeks. Look, I-"
"Were you going to tell me? Or were you going to run away again to France and allow another man to raise my child?"
"I wouldn't do something like that." Her hands gripped his as he started to climb off the bed. "Please, just listen to me."
"I'm all ears."
Ignoring the bite of sarcasm in his tone, she rushed to explain. "I didn't plan it. When you came over that last night, I had just discovered that very day that I was late." Her fingers dug into his arms. "I was late and I never am. But I was running up and down trying to get my business up and running and then there was you. I was on an emotional roller coaster. I never noticed until then. I was going to tell you. Yes, I was afraid of your reaction because I knew you said you never wanted another child. But then we had the argument and you left."
She drew in a steadying breath. "I was going to tell you, but I was waiting for the right time. You did not call and you were so angry! I was afraid that you would think I was trying to trap you. Please say something."
"You did it again," he said stonily. "Instead of just telling me whether I want to hear it or not, you took it upon yourself to keep something like this from me." His gray eyes flashed. "Does he know? That French bastard. Does he know about your condition?"
He saw the guilty look on her face before she confirmed it and felt the anger spearing through him, leaving him breathless.
"His name is Francois and when he took me home, I was sick. Vincent, please!" she cried when he jerked away from her and climbed off the bed.
"He knew before me." Raking a hand through his hair, he paced, oblivious or uncaring that he was naked. "It's always the same with you, isn't it?" he whirled to face her, expression livid. "You decide for me. You made the decision that you wouldn't tell me how you feel all those years ago and now this!" Slicing a hand through the air, he turned away from her.
"It's not all on me. Don't you dare try and blame me for the misunderstanding in the past. I already explained that I didnot want to spoil our friendship. I valued the times we spent together-"
"And yet, we still lost it! Christ-" He was about to turn away again when he noticed the grimace on her face.
"What is it?"
"I'm going to be sick!" Before he could even assimilate what that meant, she was racing off the bed and into the bathroom. He stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds, until he heard her retching. Galvanized into action, he went after her, his heart twisting and the terrible anger dying when he saw her kneeling in front of the commode. Bending down behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and waited until she was through.
Without a word, he picked her up and carried her to the sink. Althea felt the tears pricking the back of her eyes when he filled a glass with water for her to rinse out her mouth. When she was finished, he lifted her and took her back to bed, making her sit up on the pillows.
"How often does that happen?" He had brought a damp washcloth with him and was using it to wipe the moisture from her forehead.
"Three times or more a day." She leaned back weakly, her insides trembling.
"Didn't the doctor prescribe something for the nausea?"
She nodded. "The pills make me sicker than anything, so I don't take them unless I cannot help it."
"Want some tea?"
She nodded.
"Any kind will do?"
