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Shifting on the bed, she lifted his arm and scooted out from under it. Laying it down again, she heard him grunt. He had rolled over onto his back.
She had to cover her mouth to hold in her delighted laugh at the sight of his beautiful torso, all strong lines and sculpted contours, revealed by the sheet lying low on his hips and the tent formed by his morning erection.
Liquid heat throbbed at her core.
Yes, she would definitely have to take care of that erection soon, but first things first. She needed to wash her face, check her hair hadn’t gone completely wild during the night, brush her teeth and work out the etiquette for the morning after a night such as the one they had just shared. She could feel delicious tenderness in her sex, the rub of beard burn on her nipples. Was that normal?
She tiptoed across the room, plucked the bathrobe off the floor where it had been flung during their mad dash back to bed after supper, and put it on. But as she walked passed the open door to the living area, a vague whiff of last night’s dinner hit her nostrils.
Nausea rose from nowhere like a tidal wave. Slamming a hand over her mouth, she dashed into the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time before her stomach and everything inside it heaved.
When the violent retching finally stopped, she flushed away the evidence of her first bout of morning sickness and slid into a sitting position on the floor. Exhausted.
The nausea still sat like a crouching tiger under her breastbone, ready to pounce, the subtle scent of rose perfume from the vanity offending her nostrils.
She gulped in air. But as she gripped the vanity unit, attempting to hold the new wave of nausea at bay, a deep voice—thick with concern—had her jerking round.
‘Kasia, what’s wrong? Have you just vomited?’
Panic gripped her already tender insides as Raif crossed the room. He wore only the boxer briefs, but the jolt of arousal that always accompanied the glorious sight of his nearly naked body was short-lived.
Her stomach rebelled.
He grabbed her, holding her upright on unsteady legs and sweeping the wild hair back from her face as she bent over the toilet.
‘I’ve got you,’ he said, stroking her back as she retched. The wave finally passed as her stomach emptied, leaving her exhausted and shaky. And terrified.
Tears leaked from her eyes, emotion and anxiety overwhelming her.
Why did the sickness have to hit for the first time this morning?
She’d felt vaguely queasy in the last week, but she’d hadn’t been prepared for anything like this. And the last thing she wanted was for him to witness it.
‘Has it passed?’ he asked gently.
She nodded. ‘Yes, I think so.’
Dropping the toilet seat, he directed her to sit on it, then filled a glass with water.
She had to leave. She needed more time to work out the best possible way to break the news of her pregnancy to him. And having to admit it while she was sitting on the toilet of his luxury bathroom, with her hair rioting around her head as if she’d been electrocuted and her nipples still sore from his lovemaking, definitely wasn’t that moment.
The anxiety she’d taken a break from the night before bounced back.
She didn’t feel sexy and empowered any more. She felt weak, inadequate and worn out.
‘Sip this,’ he said, handing her the glass. She did as she was told, but the cool, refreshing liquid soothing her raw throat did nothing to tame the anxiety still churning in her stomach as she watched him rip Cellophane off a new toothbrush then add toothpaste, and run it under the tap.
Taking the glass from her, he handed her the prepared toothbrush.
She brushed her teeth, aware of his watchful gaze.
‘What do you think has caused this sickness?’ he asked wh
en she had finished rinsing out her mouth.
She concentrated on wiping her lips, deliberately avoiding eye contact as she spoke. ‘It must have been something I ate.’
But even she could hear the tremble of dishonesty in her voice. She had always been a terrible liar.
