Knowing he probably shouldn’t, Cedric eased the door open and shoved his way through, his heart thumping against his rib cage. He closed the door behind him and looked around the huge room, then he heard a muffled snore from the vicinity of the bed. Only then did he notice the slight lump resting beneath a mountain of fluffy blankets. Relief hit him so deep and swift his knees nearly buckled. For some fucked up reason, he’d been picturing her sprawled on the floor bleeding to death, and in reality she was only still sleeping.
He raked his hair back and shook his head. He had to get a grip. She was safe. The baby was safe. He considered waking her to see if she wanted something to eat, but decided against it. Though he hated the idea of her missing breakfast as she hadn’t eaten much yesterday, she obviously needed her sleep just as badly.
He walked over to make sure she was comfortable. Though his good sense told him to leave before she woke up and saw him there, he felt drawn to the bed. Drawn to her. One quick look, he promised, just to be sure that she was all right, even though the steady cadence of soft breathing should have been enough assurance.
One quick look and he would leave.
The thick carpeting cushioned his steps as he crossed the room to the bed. Underneath an overstuffed comforter patterned with pale green leaves and yellow rose blooms, she lay curled on her side. She looked so small in the oversized bed, so vulnerable, like a nymph in a forest. Sweat beaded her forehead and dampened her upper lip and wisps of pale hair stuck to her cheek.
Would she overheat and make herself sick? It did feel awfully warm in here.
He very gently eased back the heavy comforter. Anna whimpered in her sleep and rolled onto her back. Only then, with the cotton sheet clinging to her damp skin, exposing every dip and curve of her pregnant body in stark detail, did Cedric realize she was naked.
Desire, swift and intense, rocked through him like a shock wave. Get out now. And for God’s sake don’t touch her. But she looked so pale against the cream-colored sheets. What if she wasn’t just overheated? What if she was ill and burning up with a fever?
“Anna,” he said softly, not wanting to startle her. She mumbled something incoherent and thrashed her head to one side. “Anna, wake up.”
Don’t do it, he warned himself, don’t you dare touch her. But the part of his brain that controlled his right arm apparently wasn’t listening just then. He reached out and pressed the back of his wrist to her forehead, just as Aunt Diana had when he was sick as a child, unsure of what it was exactly that he was supposed to feel.
Her skin was clammy and cool, which he took to be a good thing.
When he should have pulled away, he couldn’t stop his hand from wandering over her skin, his fingers grazing the softness of her cheek. He liked her this way-all delicate and sweet and vulnerable. Her mouth looked soft and kissable.
There was something about Anna that he found irresistible. He’d been so happy in France with her, and he wanted to feel that again. Which seemed unlikely now, given the circumstances. Which would cause a person to wonder why he was still touching her.
He watched his thumb slip over the lush fullness of her lower lip, saw her lips part slightly and felt a puff of warm breath escape. The heat crawled up his thumb and into his hand, gaining momentum as it traveled through his arm and into his chest, kicking his pulse up a notch. He’d be damned if the woman didn’t have a way of getting under his skin, making him feel.
From there the heat worked its way down in a swirl of sensation to his abdomen and settled firmly in the region just below his belt. The idea of bending down to brush his lips against hers, to feel that physical and emotional connection, was almost irresistible.
Almost.
Anna’s eyes fluttered open and he jerked his hand away. She gazed up at him and her mouth curled into a drowsy, confused smile. “Hi.”
Did she really just smile at him? She did. Damn-she was pretty.
“Hi.”
She looked around, puzzled by her surroundings, as if she’d forgotten where she was. “You’re in my room?”
She didn’t sound angry, though she had every reason to be. And he couldn’t resist brushing the damp hair back from her forehead. What was it about her that made it so difficult to keep his hands to himself.
“It’s morning. You didn’t show up for breakfast and I was worried. When I knocked and you didn’t answer, I thought maybe something had happened to you.”
Her eyes were still foggy from sleep and far too trusting, almost as if she’d forgotten that she hated him. “Like what?”
Good question. It was obvious now that he’d overreacted. “I don’t know. I guess I just needed to know that you were okay. I should never have come in uninvited. I’m sorry.”
No, he shouldn’t have, but Anna couldn’t work up the will to be angry with him. He stroked the hair back behind her ear, and she didn’t stop him. It was such a sweet gesture, and felt so good. Instead of telling him to leave, as she really should have, she closed her eyes and sighed.
After all, it’s not as if he had never seen her in bed before. In bed and naked.
“That’s nice,” she said. “You know you did the same thing one night when we were still in France.”
“Did I?” He continued the gentle stroking, brushing past the shell of her ear, grazing her neck softly. Until it began to feel more than just nice, and although Anna wanted to, she didn’t reach up and wrap her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. No matter how much she wanted to.
“You thought I was asleep one evening. But I was only pretending.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I was afraid that if I opened my eyes, you would stop. And I didn’t want you to.”