“I’m fine. Why?” He smiled at her. She really was a beautiful woman.
“I don’t know. You just seem different.”
He felt different. “I’m fine,” he repeated, unable to explain to her what he couldn’t understand himself. Nothing had happened. Nothing had changed. He just didn’t feel quite his usual self.
She took another bite of her pizza. “Anything happen at work today?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.” He wanted to tell her about his trip to the hospital. He wanted her to tell him how it felt to hold Sara. He wanted to know how significant she thought it was that they’d removed the respirator. But he knew it wouldn’t be fair to her. She’d accepted the situation as it had to be. He mustn’t let her get her hopes up, allow her to start expecting things from him he wouldn’t be able to give.
“I saw Debbie today,” she said casually.
“You did?”
“Uh-huh.”
He watched her through narrowed eyes. Could Lisa really not have any idea how desperately he’d been waiting for her to be ready for him again? How hard it had been to lie beside her each night these past weeks and keep his hands to himself? Did she not know that he’d have had her before dinner if he’d realized he could?
“And?”
She grinned at him, and Marcus dropped the piece of pizza he’d been about to devour. The minx knew exactly what she was doing to him. He gestured at her plate. “Are you done there?” he asked.
She continued to grin. “That depends,” she said.
“On what?”
“On how quickly you can get me home.”
“Good answer, woman.” Marcus threw down a wad of bills, then took his wife’s hand and practically dragged her from the restaurant.
FOR ALL HIS HASTE, Marcus took his time making love to her. He undressed her slowly, then caressed every inch of her while she lay beside him on their bed. He forced himself to be patient while she reacquainted herself with his body, as well.
“You turned every college boy’s head in that joint tonight,” he whispered, his lips against her neck.
Touched by his nonsense, Lisa laughed softly. “I did not. To them I’m an old lady.”
He nipped her earlobe. “Hardly. I’m telling you, honey, every male eye in the place was on you as you sashayed your sweet butt out of there tonight.”
“I did not sashay.”
“Sure you did, Lis.” He moved to her other ear. “You always do.”
He captured her lips, and she returned his kiss passionately. She was desperate for Marcus. For his touch. For his tenderness. For him. Desperate because even while she made love to him, she knew it was all slipping away.
Her swollen breasts ached beneath his tender ministrations as he ran his fingers lightly over them, discovering their new hardness. A drop of milk leaked out, rolling down one side of her breast. Marcus caught it with his fingertip.
“Are you saving all of it?” he asked, staring at the path the drop of milk had taken.
She shook her head, oddly embarrassed. “Not anymore. There’s too much.”
“How long does it keep being produced?”
She tried to turn over, afraid that he found her milk repulsive, but he was half on top of her now and didn’t move. “As long as I keep pumping,” she finally said. He was still her husband. He had the right to an answer.
He ran his hand lightly over her again. “Does it hurt, this pumping?”
“Not much. It’s supposedly a lot worse than nursing, but I don’t really mind.”
Her breast dripped again, and Lisa bit her lip. She’d had no idea that being with Marcus would stimulate her milk glands. Again Marcus caught the drop on his finger, and this time he brought it to his mouth.