miracle.
Which didn’t change the fact he’d be better off if left in the dark about the crash in the first place.
Julian switched his gaze to the woman responsible for some of Samson’s suffering. Her lap provided a comfortable resting place for the child, but Katrina sat in the middle slumped to the right with her head listing at an angle sure to cause a crick by morning.
Dare he risk moving them? For certain they’d be more comfortable in a bed. But as he considered the logistics, he doubted the success of getting them both to the desired destination still asleep, an imperative in his mind.
He admired the Victorian design of the sofa they occupied, but nobody could argue the merits of its long-term comfort. The bench had cushioning, but the tufted back curved higher on one end than the other. Her position in the middle offered her little support on either side.
He supposed he had the answer to his earlier observation. If he were the cold bastard everyone thought him, he’d simply leave the woman and child to their own devices. When she became uncomfortable enough, she’d wake and move to the bed taking Samson with her or putting him in his crib. Problem solved.
But Julian wasn’t that cold. With a sigh he rose and approached the sofa. Settling into the corner he turned toward the sleeping pair and pulled woman and child into his arms.
“Hmm.” She surprised him by opening drowsy violet eyes and staring up at him. “I am going to go to bed,” she assured him in a sleep husky voice.
He waited, but instead of moving away, she snuggled into him with a contented mew, shifting her hold on Samson to keep him secure.
“You smell good,” she murmured.
Him? She was the one who smelled good enough to eat, making him wish he’d eaten more of his meal. Maybe then he’d be less tempted by her.
He closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was at home in bed. He pulled to mind a problem he’d been wrestling with before the fateful plane went down and changed his life. Neither solution worked. The subtle, sweet scent of apple blossoms and the soft feel of womanly curves cuddled in his arms brought his body to life.
He ignored the inappropriate reaction.
She was exhausted and injured, and he’d accepted the responsibility of her care. That was the extent of their connection.
“You’re so warm.”
He shook his head, a half smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Go to sleep already,” he said running his hand over the silk of her hair.
And closing his eyes, he followed his own advice.
*
Deep in the night, something disturbed Katrina. She stirred slightly and then purred softly. It had been a long time since she woke up in Rodrigo’s arms. How she’d missed this connection, the feel of hard arms holding her close, the warmth of a man’s nearness, the sensual tickle of his breath on her cheek.
She opened her eyes to find the room dark except for the dying embers in the fireplace. Sighing, she snuggled in, hugging him as she drifted toward sleep.
He smelled so good, of musk and man. Her brow furrowed as her foggy mind niggled at a sense of wrongness, but it hurt to think. He shifted beneath her and the thought fled. She realized his movement was what woke her.
Yes. The only thing better than sleeping in his arms was being awake and in his arms. A pain in her head followed the thought. Thankfully it didn’t linger and she dismissed it. Better to focus on the man. Without opening her eyes she angled her head and kissed him.
He went completely still, his sleep-relaxed body going tense. Usually he took it from there. Not tonight.
Tease. She smiled and, opening her mouth, she touched her tongue to his lips, seeking more. His lips parted and she tasted him. She knew immediately this wasn’t Rodrigo.
And while her mind struggled with why that was a good thing, the man gave in to her invitation, sinking into the embrace with an aggressive dance of tongues.
No, this was not Rodrigo. Everything about him