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Still holding me, he leaned back, and I refused to look. I already knew what he was seeing: damp fabric clinging to my traitorous nipples. “Is that breast milk?”
“Yes.” I cringed. All of this was natural and beautiful when it came to feeding my child, but having a man like Elliot witness this catastrophe had me feeling undesirable and gross.
“This happens when Josephine cries. She’s not crying,” he stated.
I dared to flutter my eyes open, finding him studying my wet tank. He didn’t look disgusted. On the contrary, he appeared fascinated. I didn’t know if that was better.
“Sometimes it happens when I’m turned on.” I covered my breasts with my arms, too exposed.
“Don’t do that. Don’t hide.” Gently holding my wrist, he lowered my arm to my lap. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Catherine.”
“I’m not ashamed. I just—don’t you think this is strange?”
“It’s different, but I wouldn’t call it strange. Not at all,” he said, heat flickering from every word.
Helikedthis?
“Oh. But the last time, you seemed angry.”
He cocked his head. “Why would you think I was angry? That was the last thing I was feeling.”
“You got all red like you do when you’re mad at me.”
He stared at me for such a long time I thought he wasn’t going to speak to me anymore.
Finally, he did.
“Like you, I’ve never been able to control when my face flushes. But anger has never really been a trigger.”
“What is?” I asked, somewhat breathless.
His gaze swept over my face then ventured back to my chest. “Embarrassment, sometimes, but that isn’t an emotion that commonly affects me. More often than not, it’s from desire.”
A gasp escaped before I could clamp it down. My mind whirled back to all the times Elliot had looked at me red-faced and I’d assumed he was pissed. I’d have to take my time to reexamine all our interactions.
“Yeah,” he uttered, shifting closer to me again. “Everything you’re thinking is exactly right.”
Then he pressed his mouth to mine and plunged his tongue between my parted lips. I clung to him so I didn’t fall off my chair, weaving my fingers through the back of his thick hair.
This kiss was deep, hard, and ended far too quickly. He nipped at my bottom lip once, then again, before swiping his thumb over it and making a satisfied grunt.
“Now that we’ve settled things, let’s have dinner.”
He turned me around in my chair and rearranged my napkin in my lap before handing me my chopsticks. I took them, and we ate dinner together like he hadn’t just kissed me silly and my shirt wasn’t wet with my own milk.
I couldn’t sleep once again. Joey had been passed out for a couple hours and most likely wouldn’t wake until the morning, but I was staring at the ceiling, begging my brain to shut down so my tired body could rest.
It was useless.
Throwing my covers off in frustration, I tiptoed out of the room, careful not to wake my girl. Maybe if I went downstairs and read a book with a cup of tea, I could relax enough to snag a couple hours of sleep. I’d learned to function on very little rest, so that was all I really needed.
Padding into the kitchen, I opened the cabinet where the tea was stored. But as I stared at the box, I couldn’t bring myself to go through the motions of making it. Exhaustion weighed me down so thoroughly inertia crept into my bones, yet my eyes were wide open.
“Can’t sleep?”
I turned my head, watching Elliot stroll into the kitchen in nothing but loose pajama pants. His torso was constructed of lean muscle packed with power, like a cougar prowling the jungle. A smattering of dark hair trailed a line up his abdomen, spreading over his chest. My fingers twitched, this time with the urge to tug his chest hair, not flip him off like the old days.
“No.” I caught my tongue peeking out to lick my upper lip.Hussy. “I can’t shut my brain off.”
