Page 104 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
He undressed her as though she were a piece of art being uncovered and savoured.
His gaze was warm as a hand, skimming over her breasts, now heavier, nipples dark and full. They travelled down the gentle curve of her belly, to the softened line of her thighs.
His fingers smoothed over her shoulders, his touch feather-light. He crouched, silently, and slid her panties down her legs. He lingered at the rise of her hips, the curve of her backside, the dimples just above the backs of her thighs.
She went to cover herself, shy now in the harsh intimacy of warm light and memory.
But he caught her wrists and held them gently but firmly to her sides. Then he looked up. "Let me look," he whispered.
Her voice wavered. "The stretch marks-"
"Are beautiful," he interrupted softly. "That's my baby's doing."
His breath hitched as he leaned forward and kissed the base of her belly, his lips trembling against her skin.
"I've waited," he whispered, overcome, "to see you like this..."
Then he stood, cupped her face in both hands, and kissed her slowly and hesitantly, as if giving her time to pull away. Then, when she didn't, the kiss turned deeper, hotter, his mouth parting hers with rising hunger.
His hands cupped her breasts before sliding to her waist, guiding her closer, until there was no space between them. His desire was unmistakable, hard and insistent against her belly. But he didn't push.
When they pulled apart, their mingled breaths were shallow.
He rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed for a long moment. Then, as if it cost him everything, he stepped back. "Take your shower," he said hoarsely. "I'm right outside."
She found a fresh towel and a soft nightgown waiting for her.
When she emerged, wrapped in cotton and still warm and pink from the shower, the bedroom light had been dimmed.
Crispin was in bed. He looked up and closed his laptop before he slid it aside and pulled the quilt back without a word.
Then she hesitated, he reached for her, gently guiding her towards him.
When she slipped beneath the covers, he tucked her into him, spooning her, his chest to her back, his arm resting just below her breasts.
The room was quiet except for the distant hum of traffic and the soft rhythm of their breathing.
And then, just before sleep claimed her, she felt him shift and felt the unmistakable hardness press against her.
He buried his face into her hair and whispered, like a confession slipping free in the dark, "You don't know what you do to me."
She didn't reply, only smiled a secret smile and drifted off to sleep.
The house was beautiful. Every room was a work of art.
The best room in the house, though, was the sunroom. It was a wide French-windowed space that looked out onto a sprawling back garden with a soft, well-kept lawn and an elegant white gazebo draped in late-summer ivy.
That's where he took her, three days after their move.
Crispin had been drowning in work over the last week. There were endless calls, board follow-ups, and legal headaches. Aria barely saw him, but she knew he was trying. He had set her up with a card and quietly said, "Use it for anything, please. For the baby. For you."
And she had, reluctantly. She ordered a crib, curtains, and furniture. In the beginning, she hesitated at every checkout screen. Crispin had noticed, and she could feel his silent frustration. But she clicked "confirm" because he'd asked her to. She had decided to trust him a little. Every step forward mattered now.
Chapter 54
Aria
The days that followed grew more structured. Crispin hired a health support worker named Rosa. She was middle-aged, matter of fact, and gloriously unimpressed by his money. She came in during the mornings to help with housework and keep an eye on Aria when he couldn't.
