he’d first met Emily. Surely to goodness he’d developed a little self-control and discretion in all that time?
Not to mention common decency.
With a low growl, he pulled two mugs from the cupboard, made the tea and went back in, studiously avoiding looking anywhere near her chest. Not that he could see anything, anyway. She was being incredibly discreet and she’d obviously got it down to a fine art—
‘I think there must be some kind of narcotic in breastmilk,’ she said with a smile that sent his resolutions into a tailspin. ‘It’s like he’s drugged, he’s so heavily asleep.’
He hauled his eyes off the sliver of smooth, pale skin he could see above the baby’s downy head as she tugged her top down. ‘Will you be able to sneak him into his cot, or will he wake up the minute you let go of him?’
She gave a wry laugh. ‘I’m guessing that was Matilda?’
‘Yup. Every time.’
‘Zach’s usually all right. I might go and try if you don’t think I’ll wake her?’
‘No, she should be fine. Go for it. The travel cot’s ready.’
She unravelled her legs and stood up gracefully, and he gritted his teeth and dragged his eyes off the smoothly rounded curve of her bottom as she headed through the door.
What the hell was going on with him?
He picked up his tea, cradled the mug in his hands and blew the steam away crossly.
He was better than this. If ever a woman was off limits, it was Emily, and especially now. He knew that. It was just getting his body to listen that was the difficult bit, and right now it seemed to have gone stone deaf.
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