Baby By Accident(67)

Now, she dared.

The marble floor was cool on her feet until she reached the plush Persian rug. Stepping around the intricately engraved desk littered with his laptop and phone, she peered around the entryway into his bedroom.

The bed was king-sized, with huge posts of carved teak reaching for the ceiling. It rested in the center of the room, near the open terrace door. Light gold-and-green, floor-length drapes wafted in the faint breeze. Antique paintings of medieval maids and knights decorated the golden walls.

Her husband was in the bed, but not asleep. His back was propped on the massive teak headboard, his focus on the book in his hands.

He was naked. At least from the waist up.

Lise clutched the silk of her nightgown, the one she’d spent about a dozen hours looking at trying to convince herself she had enough sexual confidence to carry the gown off. The frilly thing had been a gift from Tracy and Suz for her honeymoon. They’d both winked and laughed, even in the face of her disdain. She’d never worn it until this point. She’d never dreamed she’d ever want to with this man. Or any man for that matter.

She needed all the help she could get tonight.

Surely he was naked.

The light spilled across his olive skin, highlighting the bulge of his biceps, the gloss of his dark chest hair. The golden-green covers were pulled to his waist so she couldn’t be sure…

Did her husband sleep nude?

She leaned her head on the doorframe and grimaced to herself. Here she’d been married to this man for almost two months and this was the first time she’d ever contemplated the thought. What a waste of time and opportunity.

Taking a step into the bedroom, the silk of her nightgown whispered in the cool air.

The movement was enough to catch his attention. Vico glanced over and froze.

“Lise?” His tone was hoarse. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She stuttered to a stop.

“The baby?”

“Is fine.”

She loved her son. Already she sensed the bond, the tug of infinite love. Still, this once, she’d like the baby to disappear so his father could see her.

Her, the woman. Her, the wife. Her, the lover.

Her.

“Then…” his voice trailed off as his gaze trailed down and down.

The silk and lace were the color of red wine. A deep, rich scarlet which she’d thought, as she’d looked into the mirror minutes ago, contrasted nicely with her skin. She’d worried about the way the material wrapped snugly around her bulging tummy; however, the lace around her breasts highlighted the new lushness as well.

She’d thought. She’d hoped.

Her worries and fears surged in her and she almost lost her will. Turning and running seemed like it might be the right idea.

Until he looked up and met her gaze.

His golden eyes burned hot. His face flushed and the muscles of his chest and arms suddenly grew tense.

All thought of running vanished.

She started her slow progression to the bed. The walk she’d actually practiced in front of the mirror after putting on the nightgown. Ridiculously, she’d spent almost an hour pacing in front of the darn mirror, trying to learn how to be a seductress in one lesson.

He sucked in a deep breath, his chest rising.

Okay. The lesson seemed to be doing the trick. Now all she had to do was get into bed and Vico would surely take over. He was a masterful lover, the only thing she needed to do was land in the right place and her work would be done.

“Lise.” Her masterful lover’s lashes came down, covering his lustful gaze. He peered intently at the book in his hands instead of her. “What are you doing here?”

His tone was cool and dismissive, not hot and responsive.

She stopped her parade in the middle of the room.

Her courage plummeted.

Determination followed quickly behind. The new Lise would not be denied.

Reminding herself of the feel of his hips pressed to hers in the pool, she took another step forward. “Why do you think?”

Her husky, provocative voice prompted him to jerk his head upright again. She had to admit it was a voice she’d never used with him, with any man. Obviously, this was a useful skill to work on if her husband’s reaction was any indication.

The tiger eyes flared.

One more step and she stood at the foot of the bed. But her husband made no move to grab. Instead, the guy was holding on to the covers with a death grip, the book forgotten on his lap. What was his problem? Wrapping one arm around the tall teak post, she leaned on it, trying to think of what to do next. By now, she’d thought, hoped, he’d take the hint and take over.

He stared at her, his gaze was filled with wariness as well as yearning.

Evidently, she was going to have to make another move. She opened her mouth—