Page 78 of Unruly

His music room.

In one of the two leather bucket chairs facing the bay windows, Cross sat staring blankly over the backyard. His one arm hung over the edge of the chair. His other rested on the arm, while he stroked his jaw with his hand. Still dressed in the sleep pants he had tossed on the night before when he climbed into bed with her, his torso was naked.

She didn’t miss how the longer bit of black hair on top of his head was messier than usual. As though he had been running his fingers through it.

Cross was like most men in the way that sometimes, he just needed his own time and space away from everyone and everything else. Actually, Catherine thought he had always been like that because he was far more introverted than he allowed people to think.

His alone time was sacred.

She hated to interrupt it.

Cross already knew she was there, apparently.

“Are you going to come in, or …?”

Catherine smiled. “I brought you coffee.”

He glanced over at her, his dark eyes drinking her in. The silk robe she had cinched to her waist fell to mid-thigh. She was only wearing it because the cotton panties and bralette underneath weren’t exactly appropriate for her to walk around in should visitors show up or something.

Not to mention, Cece.

“I smelled it,” Cross told her with a chuckle. “That’s how I knew you were there.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, babe. Come here.”

Catherine sipped from her mug of decaf coffee as she crossed the space. Easily, Cross slipped his still steaming cup from her hands, and tasted the bitter drink.

She was a cream and sugar kind of girl.

He was a black with a whisper of sweet kind of man.

“It’s good,” he murmured. His lips still touched the rim of the mug. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Cross’s gaze drifted to the large, ornate brass clock on the wall, noting the time. “It’s a bit early for you to be up, isn’t it?”

“Something is bouncing on my bladder again.”

Wordlessly, Cross’s hand lifted from the arm of the chair, and came to rest on Catherine’s still flat stomach. If her pregnancy this time around was anything like Cece’s had been, she probably wouldn’t start showing until she was around twenty weeks or more. And even then, the small bump was easily hidden with the right dresses or blouses.

Cross seemed to read her mind. “What are you thinking this time, babe? That you’re going to work right up until you can’t keep it a secret anymore?”

“It’s only unsafe when it’s noticeable,” Catherine replied.

“I guess you’ll be able to get everything in order, anyway.”

“That’s the plan for now.”

His hand slid between the flaps of the silk robe. He only stopped once his palm was flat against her warm stomach. His thumb stroked back and forth in a rhythmic fashion. It was enough to make what was left of Catherine’s worries drift away for the moment.

“Love you, Catty,” he told her, never looking away from the windows.

“Love you, Cross.”

His hand snuck around her waist, and then to her back. His fingertips pressed into her skin as he held tight to keep her in place.