This needed to stop. Immediately. “Ash.” She liked saying his name. “Ash.” Already said that. “I came in here to sit in the dark, for some peace and quiet.”
“I can be quiet,” he said, turning to face the fire and leaning back against the other arm of her chair. “And peaceful.”
She wasn’t feeling remotely peaceful at the moment. The exact opposite was more like it. Her stomach growled.
“Hungry?” He glanced over his shoulder.
She sucked in a deep breath to ease the flutter in her chest. “I’ve had three gingerbread cookies and a large glass of milk. I’m covered.”
“That’s not a meal.” He was frowning now.
“I’ll be happy if I can keep it down.” She sighed, noting the deep blue tones the firelight brought out in his dark hair. If she wanted, she could run her fingers through the ebony silkiness. It would be easy. Natural, almost. She fisted her hand. She did not want to. Who was she kidding? She really, really did.
“I’m sorry this has been so hard on you. Eventually, that will stop. You’ll have cravings and get round.” He turned, resting his elbow on the seat cushion—next to her. He was too close, crowding in on her. And she liked it. “It’s a good thing, considering.” His tone was velvet.
“Considering the babies.” The babies were his motivation. Not her.
“You feeling okay?” he asked.
It was an innocent enough question, but it reminded her of the doctor’s appointment and how he’d reacted—how worried he’d been about her health and the babies. “Can I ask you a question?”
He nodded.
“Did your wife have a hard time with her pregnancy?” The question hung in the air. But it was out there. No way to take it back. Even when she saw the telltale tick in his jaw muscle.
“She was miserable through the entire pregnancy.”
Part of her didn’t want to push but...part of her really wanted to know about the woman he’d been married to. “What was her name?”
He pushed out of his chair and crossed to the fire. The library fell eerily silent as he stared into the low-burning flames. All she could do was sit and stare at him. His rigid posture gave away his struggle. “Shanna.”
Shanna. The mother of his son. His wife. Renata couldn’t begin to imagine what she was like. Or how horrible it would be to lose the person you’d chosen to spend the rest of your life with. All she could do was sympathize with his grief. Her father had been distraught when her mother passed. It had taken him years to pull himself together. Meeting Clara had restored some of the pluck to his step and the sparkle to his eyes, but he still missed her mother.
Ash turned, his face cast in shadows. “Shanna was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer right after we discovered she was pregnant.” There was no emotion in his voice. “She held on as long as she could, determined to meet him. But...she went into labor at thirty-three weeks.” He sounded so empty, too hollow. “She went into a coma, and died a few months later.”
Tears filled her eyes, the injustice of his words pressing in on her. And his pain? There was no escaping it. She was up, tripping over her blanket to get to him. Without hesitation or thought, she wrapped her arms around him, offering comfort he hadn’t asked for but needed all the same. His arms slid around her waist and he held her flush against him, close enough to feel the rapid thump of his heart and the ragged hitch in his breath.
“She did get to meet him?” It was a whisper.
He buried his face against her neck and breathed deep. “Yes.”
She sniffed, wiping her tears away but never letting him go. They stood, wrapped up and silent. The only sound was the crackle and pop from the fireplace and the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath her ear. She tried not to respond to his scent or the stroke of his hand along her back. Tried not to respond when his fingers ran through her hair. But when his nose traced along her neck and a shudder racked his body, there was no mistaking what was happening.
“I didn’t come here to be seduced,” she whispered. “Not this time.”
His chuckle was low and breathy. “I didn’t come here planning on seducing you.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “But here we are.” He tilted her head back, cradling her cheek in one hand. “And there’s nothing I want more.”
This close, it was impossible to miss the angry color along his jaw. “What happened to your face?” She knew, before the words were out, she knew. What the hell were they thinking? They were grown men, for crying out loud. “Which one of them—”
“It doesn’t hurt. And, honestly, I deserved worse,” he interrupted, pressing a soft, clinging kiss against her lips. “I knocked up his sister.” His gaze fell to her lips. “And enjoyed doing it.”
That look. That kiss. “You did?” She smiled.
“You doubt that?” His brow arched. “Let me convince you.” Between the fire in his eyes and the burn building in her belly, it was hard to hold his gaze and breathe. He wanted her. She ached for him. All that was left was to kiss him.
So she did.
His fingers tightened in her hair, a soft moan spilling from his chest as his lips sealed with hers. On and on, his kiss clung and deepened. When his tongue dipped into her mouth, she swayed into the wall of his chest.