Dancing in the Moonlight - Harlequin.com

RAEANNE THAYNE
139
This opportunity to enfold her in his arms like this
was a precious gift, one he knew she would never have
allowed if she hadn’t been at such a low emotional ebb.
He supposed it was probably unprincipled of him to
take advantage of the situation, but he didn’t care. How
many other chances would he have to feel the soft rise
and fall of her lungs with each breath, the stir of air
against his skin as she exhaled?
He held her as long as he could, long after his arms both
fell asleep. Even then, he would have been content to hold
her longer—through the night if he had his way—but she
began to shift restlessly in his arms.A few times she whimpered,
her brow furrowing then smoothing again.
He had watched enough of his postsurgery patients
sleeping in the hospital to recognize the signs of someone
in discomfort. She needed a change in position, he
sensed, and with regret he shifted so he could lower her
to the couch.
She stirred a little but didn’t wake when he pulled a
quilt in rich, dark colors from the back of a chair and
covered her with it.
When he was certain she would continue to sleep, he
left her long enough to return to the kitchen and clean
up the broken china and the rest of their dinner dishes
from the table and load them into the dishwasher, then
he returned to sit in the armchair across from her.
A soft spring rain pattered against the window and
watery moonlight filtered across her face.
He couldn’t seem to look away.
The depth of tenderness washing through him took
his breath away. He had never been able to classify this