He undressed in the dark, showered and as silently as humanly possible, he slipped between the sheets, staying as far away from her as he could. It surprised him how easily he drifted off.
Riley woke sometime in the middle of the night to find Hannah lying facing him. He opened his eyes and breathed in the fresh, clean scent of her. Wildflowers. In full bloom.
A thick strand of hair had fallen across her face, and although he feared he might wake her, he chanced lifting the shiny brown curl from her cheek and gently brushed it aside.
She was wearing the flannel nightgown. Riley never thought he'd appreciate the sexless thing, but he was wrong. He was eternally grateful she hadn't donned one of those sheer nighties. Or something made of silk. Silk was his downfall. The mental image of Hannah wearing a silk gown blossomed in his mind, and he banished the thought before it could take root. He had enough of a problem dealing with the reality of her in his bed without complicating his life by introducing fantasy.
Releasing a deep rush of air, Hannah scooted closer. So close he could almost hear her heart beating.
Closing his eyes, Riley tried to force himself to go back to sleep. Damn, but he could hear her heart beat. It was pulsing like crazy. No, he decided a second later; that was his own heart.
Slowly, against his better judgment, he brought his hand up to the front of her gown – just to determine if it was her pulse that was pounding so violently, he assured himself. If it was, then perhaps there was something medically wrong with her, or with the baby.
His hand slipped past the small pearl buttons, past the lace trim and edging of pink embroidery.
Past the point of no return.
A thin layer of perspiration broke out across Riley's upper lip as he pressed his palm to her chest.
The tips of his fingers felt for her pulse, but the heel of his hand rested against the bulging fullness of her lush breast. Riley's heart seemed to be working just fine, but his breathing came to an abrupt halt. An ache, low in his belly, began to pound like a giant fist.
Only it wasn't his stomach that was throbbing.
A better man than he might be able to resist Hannah. Jerry could resist her, but not Riley. Not for a second longer. His hands shook like a schoolboy's as he captured her breast in his palm. He lifted it, savored its weight and pear shape. She was right; they were fuller, sweetly fuller than he remembered.