Page 18 of Bound by Their Christmas Baby

He breathed deeply, his broad chest lifting with each inhalation.

In the year since they’d been together, she’d dreamed of him often. But they were never coherent dreams, nor were they sensible. They were fractured memories. His body over hers, their eyes locked, fingers entwined, lips meshing. Their breathing in unison, laughing, his voice as he whispered Italian words into her ears, words that she couldn’t understand but became addicted to hearing.

The way he’d held her tight as he’d pushed past her innocence, reassuring her with his words and his body that she would be all right. That he would keep her safe.

She swallowed and took a step closer to him without realising it. He shifted in the chair and she froze, swallowing guiltily, heat spreading through her cheeks.

He was a beautiful specimen of masculinity. When she’d met him, she’d been rendered speechless by the strength and power that emanated from him. There was confidence and control in every breath he issued. He was inherently remarkable. But now, in repose, there was something even more fascinating, even more appealing.

There was a raw vulnerability in his face as he slept, almost as if she could peel back the layers of time and see Gabe as he’d been years earlier, as a child. Had he always been confident in a way that bordered on arrogance? Had he been feted and worshipped in those early years of his life, so that the seeds of self-belief had been firmly planted in the make-up of his soul? Or had he become like this later? In his teens? Twenties? Had something happened that had shaped him, such as his phenomenal success?

Abigail discounted it instantly. He and his business partner were self-made success stories. To achieve what they had took a huge amount of confidence, as well as intelligence and ability. Success hadn’t shaped him—he’d reached for success with both hands. That determination and grit was fundamentally Gabe.

‘You’re staring.’

She was startled, her eyes flying back to his face, heat intensifying in her cheeks as she realised he was awake, languidly watching her—watching her watch him. Embarrassment curdled her blood.

‘I…thought you might be cold,’ she lied huskily. ‘Do you need a blanket?’

His lips curled derisively, showing he understood exactly why she’d been staring at him.

‘I’m warm enough.’ There was a mocking challenge in his expression.

‘Good.’ She swallowed.

‘You cannot sleep?’ he prompted after a moment.

She shook her head. ‘My mind can’t stop spinning. I can’t stop thinking about the madness of what I’ve agreed to.’

He made a soft noise. ‘There’s no point thinking about what is already done.’

‘It’s not done, though,’ she said with a shrug.

‘Are you trying to tell me you’ve changed your mind?’

Was she? She stared at him, her heart still thundering through her body like a runaway horse in a storm. She bit down on her lip and closed her eyes, trying to sift through her wants and needs, her certainties and doubts.

‘Raf deserves what you can give him,’ she said finally, with a shake of her hea

d. ‘I know that.’

‘I’m going to take care of you both, Abigail.’ The words held a strange other-worldly quality. ‘You will have nothing to worry about from now on. Capisce?’

She carried his assurance to bed, strangely warmed by it when she had no real reason to trust him.

The next morning broke over New York cold and bleak.

‘Are you packed?’ Gabe was waiting when Abby stepped out of the bathroom.

She stared at him, her heart jolting at this version of Gabe. All arrogant, in-control tycoon once more, dressed in his suit, his dark hair pushed back from his brow. This was not the man who’d issued lazy promises to take away all her worries. This was the man who was worth billions, who took over businesses like most people changed underwear.

‘It won’t take me long.’ She gestured towards her bedroom door. ‘Raf’s still sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb him.’

Gabe’s eyes narrowed. ‘We’re leaving soon. Disturbing him is inevitable.’ And then, after a pause, ‘I’ll hold him.’

Abby jerked her attention to his face. ‘Seriously?’

Gabe’s smile was slightly mocking. ‘He’s my son, no?’

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