Riley was under the covers, lying back, his hands tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling when she returned with the book she intended to read. He was so far over on his side of the bed it was a wonder he didn't slide onto the floor. He continued to stare straight ahead at the light fixture while she hurried under the blankets, shivering with the cold. Still he remained where he was.
Hannah read for no more than fifteen minutes, then hurried out of bed, turned off the light and rushed back. She rolled onto her side, tucking her knees under her breasts in order to get warm again.
"You all right?" Riley asked in the darkness.
"Yes… I'm just a little cold." She hoped he'd snuggle up against her and share his body's heat, but he didn't. The silence was strained, but she didn't know what to say to make it better. Feeling helpless and inadequate, and like the world's worst wife, she buried her face in the pillow to hide the ever-ready flow of tears.
"Hannah?"
"Yes."
"Are you crying?"
"No."
He gave an abrupt, hollow laugh. "You never could lie worth a damn. What's wrong?"
If he wouldn't come to her, then she'd go to him. Once the decision was made, she rolled onto her other side and aligned her body with Riley's, pressing her head to his shoulder. He felt hard and muscular, warm and whole.
Slowly, as though he were going against his better judgment, he brought his arm out from beneath his head and wrapped it around her shoulder. It felt so good to have him hold her, to have him touch her, that she closed her eyes on a deep sigh.
"You have nothing to fear from him, you know," she whispered, once her throat was clear enough to talk evenly, unemotionally. The love she felt for Jerry was far removed from the life she had now.
"You love him."
Hannah couldn't deny it. "A small part of me always will. He was a special man."
Riley grew silent, but she could tell from the even rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his heart that he hadn't taken offense, but was mulling over her words.
"When I was little, I can remember my father telling me that when God closes a door he always opens a window. This time he opened two. I don't regret being married to you, Riley. I feel honored to be your wife."
His hand gently stroked her shoulders. The day had been long and emotion packed. Hannah yawned and, nestling her face near Riley's neck, closed her eyes.
A smile curved her lips as she felt his mouth brush a soft kiss at her temple. Within minutes she could feel herself drifting off to sleep.
Until he'd met Hannah, Riley hadn't realized how full of irony everyday life could be. He'd dreamed, plotted, schemed to get her into his bed, and once she was there, he found he was afraid to touch her. Afraid and unworthy. He, Riley Murdock, actually feared her moving close to him, tempting him beyond endurance, snuggling her lush breasts against him. He trembled at the thought of his body, so hard and powerful, filling Hannah's delicate softness. The problem, he recognized, was one of his own making. Knowing that didn't alter the situation, however.