Yet if that was all it was, why did his thoughts circle back to her all day and much of the night? Getting up to feed or change Grace hadn’t been much of a hardship since his sleep was all messed up by the temptation of her sleeping twenty feet away. Nor could he get out of his head the night she’d picked a fight over the nursery while wearing nothing more than a robe. Did she have any idea how close she’d come to driving him over the edge?
By the time Keaton resettled Grace in her crib and watched her fall asleep, his own exhaustion had caught up with him. But he knew it was nothing compared to how Lark must be feeling.
“Is something wrong with Grace?” Lark’s soft voice, tense and filled with concern, came from the doorway behind him.
“She’s fine,” he reassured her, pitching his volume equally low. Turning his head in her direction, he caught her staring at him in dismay. What would it take for her to stop worrying so much?
“Why are you up, then?”
“I was awake and figured you could use the sleep.” Since she seemed to be unable to shake her doubts, he held out his hand and beckoned her close. “She’s all right, really.”
Once she’d seen for herself that Grace was sleeping peacefully, Lark heaved a huge sigh. Then her attention shifted to him and her gaze sharpened.
“You aren’t wearing a shirt.”
He glanced down at his bare chest, unsure what to make of the accusation in her voice. “I don’t usually wear one to bed.”
“But you’re not in bed.”
“Obviously.”
Since she seemed determined to pursue the odd conversation, he decided they’d be better off having it where they wouldn’t disturb Grace. Taking Lark by the arm, he escorted her out of the nursery and deposited her stiff form in the middle of the living room.
“I’ve got everything under control. Go back to bed.”
“It’s my night to take care of her.” Her lower lip jutted out, making her look like an adorable toddler in a temper.
Keaton set his hands on his hips above the waistband of his pajama bottoms, and struggled not to grin at how cute she looked. “I promise to sleep as soundly as a hibernating bear tomorrow. Now go to bed.”
“Damn it, Keaton, you can’t tell me what to do.” She was in a transfixed stupor, staring at his half-naked form.
Again he glanced down at himself, wondering what she found so utterly fascinating. Then he looked at her.
Lark wore pale blue, long-sleeve pajamas that covered her from neck to ankle. Modest in fit, they still managed to accent the provocative swell of her substantial breasts and failed to hide the tightening of her nipples against the soft fabric.
His body came to life with such ferocity he almost groaned. “You should listen to me when I’m giving you good advice,” he growled, unsure how much longer he could keep his hands off her.
She tipped her head back and met his gaze. Her eyes were clear, the look in them bold. “What makes your advice so great?”
“It will keep me from doing something that won’t make you very happy.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Like what?”
Sexual tension flared between them at her defiant tone.
“Like this.” Plagued by too many long nights of temptation and incensed that she’d dared him to act, Keaton seized the edges of her pajama top and tore it open. Buttons flew in all directions. Shocked by the ferocity of the desire she aroused in him, Keaton froze.
They were both breathing hard, but the ragged rise and fall of their chests was the only movement. Keaton searched Lark’s stunned expression and waited for her to speak, to yell at him for stepping across the line.
Her hand came up, but not to slap him. She slid her palm up his chest, the caress brimming with sensual intent, and tunneled her fingers into his hair. Rising on tiptoe, she pressed her bare breasts against his chest and slid her cheek against his.
“Kiss me.”
His lips were halfway to hers when she spoke the words.
This was no tentative, exploratory kiss. Lark’s mouth was open and eager as he claimed it. He wasted no energy on preliminaries, just plunged his tongue deep, and was rewarded by the ardent thrust of her pelvis against his growing erection. Her moan made his head spin.
Leaving one hand to cup her head, he let the other skim down her back. He savored every curve and dip as her skin slipped like silk beneath his questing fingers. When he reached the waistband of her pajama bottoms, he hesitated only briefly before diving beneath. The fullness of her butt was a temptation he could no longer resist. They groaned in unison as he filled his palm with her flesh, fitting her more firmly against his raging hardness.
If he didn’t get her naked soon, he was going to descend into madness. Or perhaps he’d already plunged down the rabbit hole. He was fast losing track of which way was up, and when Lark stroked him through the cotton fabric covering his erection, he shuddered. She touched him with more curiosity than eroticism, but the contact was earth-shattering. With only a matter of moments before he could no longer stand, he eased down on one knee. Bracketing her lush hips between his hands to hold her still, he placed his lips against her flat stomach between her rib cage and belly button.