Page 11 of The Accidental Wedding
The rent. The thought crashed into her consciousness like a boulder into a tranquil pool. Morning dream number 5,061 in smithereens, she thought with sleepy irony. Another day to face.
She stretched, then stiffened as she realized that far from having someone to share her problems, one of them was in bed with her right now.
And that the stranger was holding her breast, gently but firmly.
Possessively.
She froze. “What are you doing?” she whispered. Ridiculous question. It was perfectly obvious what he was doing. “Stop it.”
He didn’t respond. His hand didn’t move. He just kept breathing, slowly and evenly as he had all night. He couldn’t possibly be asleep . . . surely?
Carefully, she prized his hand off her breast and pushed his arm back where it belonged. Turning cautiously in the bed, she looked at him.
His face was slack with sleep, his eyes closed, his lashes twin dark crescents against his pallor. He moved restlessly and shifted toward her.
She stiffened as his hand curved over her hip and held her. “What are you doing?” His knees bumped against hers, and he slid one brawny leg between hers and sighed. And relaxed again.
She watched him, hardly breathing, but he didn’t move.
He was asleep, truly asleep, she realized. He didn’t know what he was doing, just seeking warmth and comfort.
As she had been. Unconsciously enjoying his warmth, the feel of his body, and taking comfort in dreams.
Dreams helped.
She lay quietly, watching him sleeping in the morning light. His hair was thick, brown like the skin of a chestnut, and tumbled across his brow. She smoothed it gently back. He sighed but didn’t wake. She stroked his forehead, running a fingertip over a few faint worry lines.
His brows were thick and darker than his hair, his lashes unfairly long for a man. The skin of his eyelids was so fine and translucent she could see each vein and blood vessel. His eyes, beneath the closed lids, were moving. He was dreaming, twitching slightly, like a dog. A pleasant dream, for his lips curved in a faint half smile and she found herself smiling back.
At least he wasn’t in pain.
Lines radiated from the corner of his eyes, and on either side of the mobile-looking mouth was a vertical crease that would deepen when he smiled. A man who smiled often, she decided.
She liked that. Life without laughter was like a month without sunshine; you could survive, but there was no joy in it.
His chin was firm and nicely squared at the end. She trailed her fingers down the line of his jaw, enjoying the light abrasion of his bristles. She placed her palm across the strong column of his neck and felt the steady pulse beating,thud, thud, thud.
Over and over, her gaze returned to his mouth like a moth to a flame.
It fascinated her. It was, quite simply, beautiful. She’d never thought of a man’s mouth being beautiful, but his was. Yet there was nothing feminine about it.
His lips seemed carved by a master sculptor, they were so clearly defined, so perfectly formed. She touched his mouth gently, running her finger lightly over his parted lips, tracing the shallow groove that ran down from his nose. She lingered on a tiny, silvery scar at the left-hand corner of his mouth.
When had that happened? How?
He sighed again and moved his mouth against her fingers, closing over one and sucking, gently. She froze. A ripple of sensation trembled through her, and she carefully withdrew her finger, feeling strangely moved. After a minute he relaxed again into his dreams, his breath soft and regular.
She stroked a lock of hair behind his ear.What are you dreaming of, beautiful man? Are you lonely, like me?
She dismissed that thought immediately. This man would never be lonely. He was too beautiful, too elegantly dressed, and what about those laugh lines? No woman could resist him.
No, he wouldn’t be lonely.
But just now, he was alone and in trouble. And while he was, he was hers.
She bent and kissed him lightly on the lips. His lips were smooth, warm, unresponsive.
“I’ll take care of you,” she whispered and kissed him again. “You’re not alone.”
