“No.” Wendy rubbed at her eyes a little before arching her back into a stretch. “I think she’s finally getting used to the new feeding schedule. I woke her at eleven for that bottle and she went right back to sleep….”
Jonathon looked up when he heard her voice trail off. Like him, she was staring at the ring on his hand. Her gaze darted to his and held it for a second. He watched, entranced, as she nervously licked her lips. Something hot and unspoken passed between them, once again stirring that need to kiss her. To mark her as his own. To bend her back over the bed and plow into her.
Thank God, Peyton was asleep on her chest, keeping him from doing anything too stupid.
He yanked the ring off his finger and dropped it onto the tray beside his watch and his class ring.
Her gaze dropped to where his watch and rings lay on the nightstand. Then it snapped up to his face again. She gave another one of those wobbly, anxious smiles. “I’m on your side of the bed, aren’t I?”
“It’s fine.”
“No, I’ll move. Just give me a second.” Bracing an arm at Peyton’s back, she half sat up, then hesitated. Peyton squirmed and Wendy’s frown deepened.
“Just lie her down in the center. She can sleep there.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.” Was it wrong that he was scheming to get Peyton in the bed between them? A little devious maybe, but not wrong. He wouldn’t make a move on Wendy as long as Peyton was in the same room. But having her in the bed was a stroke of genius. Better than an icy shower, he was sure. And less conspicuous. Besides, he even had sound scientific reasoning in his corner. “I’ve been reading this book on—”
“Attachment parenting?” she asked as she waggled the Kindle. “I’ve been stalking your Kindle, remember?”
That playful, suggestive tone of hers was like a kick in the gut. Maybe he’d still need that cold shower. “I should just sleep on the floor.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She leaned over and rolled Peyton from her chest to the center of the bed. Then came up onto her hands and knees to climb over the still sleeping baby. The thin cotton of her boxer shorts clung enticingly to her bottom and his groin tightened in response to the sight.
She had no idea just how far from ridiculous he was being. This was him at his most practical.
Hell, forget the floor. He’d just sleep in the shower. With the cold water on.
“I don’t mind.”
“Well, I do,” she said, tossing the pillows on that side of the bed onto the floor—the side that from this moment on would always be her side of the bed. “When I think of all the things you’ve done for me in the past few weeks…”
“Don’t make me into some kind of hero. You know why I married you.” The problem was he was no longer sure he knew why he’d done it. “My motives weren’t altruistic.”
At least that was true.
She flashed him a smile that was a little bit sad. “I know. But neither are mine. And I’m not about to kick you out of bed.”
Ten
“Not about to kick you out of your own bed,” she corrected, a blush tinting her cheeks.
As if she wasn’t irresistible already.
He wanted to argue about the sleeping arrangements. Dear God, he did. But he couldn’t logically make an argument for sleeping in the tub. Besides, he’d doubt he’d fit.
“Oh, I get it,” she said with teasing concern. “You’re embarrassed about your body.”
Clearly she was trying to hide her own embarrassment. “Wendy—”
“You’re probably all pasty white under those dress shirts, huh?” She clucked her tongue in sympathy. “Maybe you put on a few extra pounds over the holidays? Is that it? Is that why you’re standing there like a statue, refusing to get undressed?”
He wasn’t about to tell why he really wasn’t getting undressed. If she hadn’t figured out how thin her tank top was and how much that turned him on, then he wasn’t going to be the one to tell her.
“Hey, I won’t even look,” she teased, making a great show of rolling over to face the wall. “Now I can’t see you. You can even turn out the light if you want.”
Rolling his eyes at her silliness, he reached over and turned off the lamp before starting on his buttons.
“I guess you made peace with my dad,” she said after a minute.
“I guess so,” he admitted, slipping off his shirt and tossing it vaguely in the direction of a nearby chair. He toed off his shoes and socks. “He’s not such a bad guy.”
“No.” Her voice was small in the darkness. “He’s not. Every one comes around eventually.”