Читать книгу The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections - Louise Allen - Страница 93

ANN-MARIE CONTINUED to improve with each passing day, and there was immense relief at the week’s end to receive the neuro-surgeon’s voiced confidence of a complete recovery. It balanced the shock of seeing the bandages removed for the first time, and evidence of a vivid surgical scar.

Carly was so elated on leaving the hospital that she decided against phoning Stefano, and opted to tell him the news in person. Consequently it was almost four when she entered the towering modern city block and rode the lift to Reception.

There was a sense of déjà vu on stepping into the luxuriously furnished foyer, although this time there was the advantage of needing no introduction. Carly entertained little doubt that an expurgated version of her previous visit had filtered through the office grapevine, and she kept her eyes steady with a friendly smile pinned in place as the receptionist rang through to Stefano’s personal secretary.

Renate appeared almost immediately, her features schooled to express warmth and a degree of apologetic charm. ‘Stefano is in conference with a colleague,’ she enlightened Carly as she ushered her into his private lounge. ‘I’ve let him know you’re here, and he said he’ll be with you in a matter of minutes.’ The smile deepened. ‘Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Tea? Something cool?’

‘I’d like to use the rest-room first, if I may?’ Carly returned the woman’s smile with one of her own. ‘And something cool would be great.’

As she was about to re-enter the lounge several minutes later a door opened several feet in front of her to reveal a tall, attractive brunette whose stunning features were permanently etched in Carly’s mind.

Recognition was instantaneous, and Carly’s whole body went cold as she watched Angelica Agnelli turn back to the man immediately behind her and bestow on him a lingering kiss.

Carly felt as if the scene was momentarily frozen in her brain, like the delayed shutter of a camera, then the figures began to move, and she watched as Stefano stood back a pace and let his hands fall from Angelica’s shoulders.

His expression held warm affection, and stabbed at Carly’s heart. At the same moment he lifted his head, and Carly watched with a sort of detached fascination as they each became aware of her presence.

It was rather like viewing a play, she decided as she glimpsed the darkness in Stefano’s eyes an instant before he masked it, and she was prepared to go on record that the dismay evident in Angelica’s expression was deliberate, for the faint smile of contrition failed to reach her eyes.

‘Carly,’ Angelica greeted her with apparent warmth. ‘Stefano told me you were back.’ Her expression pooled into one of apparent concern. ‘How is your daughter?’

The faint emphasis on ‘your’ wasn’t missed, and Carly marshalled innate dignity as a weapon in her mythical arsenal. ‘Ann-Marie is fine, thank you,’ she responded steadily. Her eyes lifted to meet Stefano’s slightly narrowed gaze, and she summoned a deliberately sweet smile. ‘Renate is fetching me a cool drink. I’ll wait in the lounge while you see Angelica out.’ She placed imperceptible stress on the last word, then softened it with a studied smile as she turned towards the beautifully attired young woman whose haute-couture clothes hugged a perfect figure. ‘Goodbye, Angelica. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.’ Not if I see you first, she added silently as she turned into the private lounge.

With extreme care Carly closed the door behind her, then crossed towards the bar where an iced pitcher of orange juice stood beside a tall frosted glass.

Pouring herself a generous measure, she sipped at it abstractly and told herself she felt no pain. Dammit, she swore softly. There had to be subversive psychic elements at play somewhere in the vicinity, for each time she entered Stefano’s private lounge she was moved to blinding rage.

However, this time she’d be calm. Another voluble, visible display of temper would have the staff labelling her a shrew. Yet she defied even the most placid woman not to be driven to anger when she was faced with evidence of her husband’s affaire de coeur.

It was five minutes before Stefano joined her, and she turned quietly to face him as he entered the room. His expression was inscrutable, his eyes faintly hooded, and he made no attempt at any explanation.

He looked the epitome of a successful businessman, his three-piece suit dark and impeccably tailored, the pale blue shirt made of the finest silk, and his shoes hand-stitched imported leather.

She was reminded of the saying that ‘clothes made the man’. Yet her indomitable husband could have worn torn cut-off jeans and a sweatshirt, and he’d still manage to project a devastating raw virility that had little to do with the physical look of him.

If his relationship with Angelica Agnelli continued to extend beyond that of friends, then anything Carly said would only fuel her own anger and lead inevitably to another confrontation.

Besides, she was twenty-seven, and no longer the naïve, trusting young girl who had believed in one true love. Reality was the knowledge that love didn’t conquer all, nor did it always last forever.

‘How was Ann-Marie this afternoon?’

Carly met his dark gaze with equanimity. ‘Improving,’ she informed him steadily. ‘The specialist is confident she’ll make a full recovery.’

His features relaxed into an expression of immense relief. ‘Grazie a Dio,’ he breathed with immense gratitude.

‘Obviously it would have been better if I’d phoned with the news.’

One eyebrow slanted above a pair of eyes that had become strangely watchful. ‘Why obviously?’

‘Business, pleasure and personal affairs are an incompatible mix,’ she hinted with unaccustomed cynicism, and saw his eyes narrow.

‘Angelica—’

‘Don’t even consider proffering the rather hackneyed explanation that she’s merely an associate.’ She lifted her chin, and her eyes were remarkably clear as they held his. ‘I’ve heard it all before.’

‘Angelica is a valued family friend,’ he continued with hard inflexibility, and the gold flecks in her eyes flared with brilliant topaz as she refused to be intimidated in any way.

‘Valued is a very tame description, Stefano,’ Carly responded, wondering what devilish imp was pushing her in a direction she’d sworn not to tread.

‘Perhaps you’d care to offer a more lucid alternative,’ he drawled with dangerous silkiness, and she was powerless to prevent the surge of anger coursing through her body.

‘She wants you,’ she declared with quiet conviction. ‘She always has. For a while I stood in her way. Now that I’m back…’ She trailed off deliberately, then effected a slight shrug. ‘If she can hurt me emotionally, she will.’ The need to be free of him was paramount, and she turned to leave, only to have a detaining hand catch hold of her arm and pull her back to face him.

Any escape could only be temporary. It was there in his eyes, the latent anger a silent threat should she continue to thwart him.

‘Let me go.’ The words left her throat as his head lowered, and she turned slightly so that his lips grazed her cheek. Then she cried out as he slid his fingers through the thickness of her hair, and his mouth captured hers in a kiss that was nothing less than a total possession of her senses.

A muffled groan of entreaty choked in her throat as he brought her even closer against his hard, muscular frame, and when he finally lifted his head she stood quite still, bearing his silent scrutiny until every nerve stretched to its furthest limit.

His hands slid with seductive slowness to her waist, then cradled her ribcage, the pads of each thumb beginning an evocative circle over the hardening peaks of her breasts in a movement that was intensely erotic.

She had to stop him now, before she lost the will to move away. ‘Sex in the office, Stefano? Whatever will Renate think?’ she taunted softly. ‘Or maybe she’s accustomed to her boss’s…discreet diversions?’

His eyes narrowed, and a muscle hardened at the edge of his jaw. ‘Watch your foolish tongue.’

Carly laughed, a soft mocking sound that was the antithesis of anything related to humour. Gathering courage, she added with unaccustomed cynicism, ‘I imagine many women shared your table as well as your bed in the last seven years.’

His eyes stilled for a second, then assumed a brooding mockery. ‘You want me to supply a list, cara?’

For one heart-stopping moment she looked stricken. The thought of that long, superbly muscled body giving even one other woman the sort of sexual pleasure he gave her was sickening. To consider there had probably been several made her feel positively ill. Suddenly she’d had enough, and was in dire need of some breathing space—preferably as far away from her inimical husband as possible.

If she didn’t leave soon, the ache behind her eyes would result in silent futile tears, and without a further word she turned and left the room.

Within minutes of reaching home she crossed to the phone and dialled Sarah’s number. At the sound of her friend’s voice she clutched hold of the receiver and sank down into a nearby chair for a long conversation that encompassed an exchange of news as well as providing a link to normality.

‘You must bring James to dinner,’ Carly insisted as Sarah exclaimed at the time. ‘I’ll check with Stefano and give you a call.’

‘Lovely,’ the other girl declared with enthusiasm. ‘Give Ann-Marie a big hug from me, and tell her I’ll visit tomorrow.’

Dinner was a strained meal, for Carly found it difficult to contribute much by way of conversation that didn’t come out sounding horribly banal. In the end, she simply gave up, and pushed her food around the plate before discarding her cutlery to sip iced water from her glass.

Stefano, damn him, didn’t appear a whit disturbed, and he did justice to the dishes Sylvana provided before finishing with fresh grapes, biscuits and cheese.

Carly sat in silence during the drive to hospital, unwilling to offer so much as a word in case it ended in a slanging match—or worse.

There was such a wealth of resentment at having witnessed the touching little departure scene between Angelica and Stefano that afternoon—and unabating anger. It almost eclipsed the joy of witnessing Ann-Marie’s pleasure in their visit, and the expressive smile when Stefano presented her with yet another gift.

‘I’m getting spoilt,’ Ann-Marie concluded, hugging the beautifully dressed doll close to her small chest, and her eyes gleamed when her father leaned down to brush his lips against her cheek. ‘Thank you, Daddy.’

The words held such poignancy that Carly had to blink fast against the threat of tears.

‘My pleasure, piccina.’

‘What’s a piccina?’

‘A special endearment for a special little girl,’ he responded gently.

It was almost eight when the Mercedes pulled into the driveway leading to Stefano’s elegant home, and once indoors Carly made her way through to the kitchen.

‘Coffee?’ It was a perfunctory query that incurred his narrowed gaze.

‘Please.’

Her movements were automatic as she filled the percolator, selected a fresh filter, then spooned in a blend of ground coffee-beans.

‘Would you prefer yours here, or in the lounge?’

‘The lounge.’

Damn, that meant she’d have to share it with him, yet if she opted out he’d only be amused, and she refused to give him the satisfaction.

Five minutes later she placed cups and saucers, sugar and milk on to a tray and carried it through to the informal lounge. Placing his within easy reach, she selected a chair several feet distant from where he was seated.

‘We’ve been invited out to dinner tomorrow evening,’ Stefano informed her with indolent ease as he spooned in sugar and stirred the thick black liquid in his cup. ‘Charles Winslow will be there with Kathy-Lee.’ His eyes seared hers, darkly analytical in a manner that raised all her fine body hairs in a gesture of self-defence.

‘And Georgeanne?’ She arched a brow in deliberate query. ‘I’m not sure I want to go.’ The thought of standing at his side for several hours playing a part didn’t figure very high in her order of preferred entertainment.

‘Most of the men present will have their wives or partners in attendance,’ he drawled, and she said sweetly,

‘Why not invite Angelica? I’m sure she’d delight in the opportunity. Then you could have two women vying for your attention.’

One eyebrow slanted in quizzical mockery, although anything approaching humour was sadly lacking in his expression. ‘I’ll ignore that remark.’

A crazy imp prompted her to query, ‘Good heavens, why? It’s nothing less than the truth.’

His expression didn’t alter. ‘Watch your unwary tongue, mi moglie,’ he cautioned in a deadly soft voice.

‘Don’t threaten me,’ she responded swiftly, feeling the deep-rooted anger begin to surge to the surface.

‘Warn,’ he amended with quiet emphasis.

‘There’s a difference?’

His eyes lanced hers, silent and deadly in their intent. ‘Give it up, Carly.’

‘And concede defeat?’

‘If you want to fight,’ Stefano drawled with dangerous silkiness, ‘I’m willing to oblige.’ He paused deliberately, then continued, ‘I doubt you’ll enjoy the consequences.’

A shaft of exquisite pain arrowed through her body, although defiance was responsible for the angry tilt of her chin as she berated, ‘I seem to remember you preferred your women warm and willing.’

‘What makes you think you won’t be, cara?’ Stefano drawled, his expression veiled as pain clouded her beautiful eyes, rendering her features hauntingly vulnerable for a few heart-stopping seconds before the mask slipped into place.

She was treading dangerous waters, yet she was too incensed to desist. ‘Did it never occur to you that my taste in men may have changed?’

‘Have there been that many?’ His voice sounded like finely tempered steel grazing satin, and she had the incredible desire to shock.

‘Oh—several.’

Something leapt in the depth of his eyes, and she wanted to cry out a denial, yet the words remained locked in her throat.

What on earth was the matter with her in taunting him? Playing any kind of game with a man of Stefano’s calibre was akin to prodding a sleeping jungle animal.

‘I had a life during the past seven years, Stefano,’ she flung, more angry than she’d care to admit. ‘Didn’t you?’

‘Do you really want to pursue this topic?’

‘Why?’

‘Because it will have only one ending,’ he warned with incredible silkiness, although his eyes were hard and obdurate, and there could be no doubt as to his meaning.

‘Go to hell,’ she whispered, hating him more at that precise moment than she’d thought it possible to hate anyone.

The need to get away from him was paramount, and, uncaring of his reaction, she turned and walked out of the room, out of the house, moving with a quick measured pace along the driveway to the electronically locked steel gates.

For the first time she damned Stefano’s security measures as logic and sanity temporarily vanished in the face of a fierce, unbating anger.

The house, the grounds, were like an impenetrable fortress, necessary in today’s age among the exceedingly wealthy in a bid to protect themselves, their family and their possessions.

She could return indoors, collect her keys and the necessary remote module to release the main gates, but even in anger sufficient common sense exerted itself to warn silently against walking the suburban streets alone after dark. And if she took her car, where would she go? It was too late for visiting, and Sarah, if she wasn’t working, would probably be out with James.

Carly turned back towards the house and slowly retraced her steps. The air was warm, with the faintest breeze teasing a few stray tendrils of her hair, and she lifted her face slightly, looking deep into the indigo sky with its nebulous moon and sprinkling of stars.

Drawing in a deep breath, she released it slowly. A strange restlessness besieged her, and she felt the need for some form of exercise to help expel her pent-up emotions.

There was a pool in the rear of the grounds, and she instinctively took the path that skirted the southern side of the house.

Reflected light from several electric lamps strategically placed in the adjacent rockery garden lent the pool a shimmering translucence, and, without giving too much thought to her actions, Carly stripped off her outer clothes and executed a neat dive into the pool’s clear depths. Within seconds she was cleaving clean strokes through the cool water, silently counting as she completed each length. After twenty-five she rested for a few minutes, clearing the excess water from her face, her hair.

‘Had enough?’

Carly lifted her head and looked at the tall figure standing close to the pool’s edge. In the subdued light he loomed large, his height and breadth magnified by reflected shadows.

‘Is there some reason why I shouldn’t take advantage of the pool?’

‘None whatsoever,’ Stefano declared mockingly. ‘Shall I help you out?’ At his drawled query she raised a hand, then when he grasped it she tugged hard, experiencing a thrill of exultation as he lost his balance and was unable to prevent a headlong fall into the water.

Fear of retaliation lent wings to her limbs as she levered herself up on to the pool’s edge, then, scooping up her clothes, she sped quickly into the house.

A faint bubble of laughter emerged from her throat as she entered the bedroom. She’d have given almost anything to glimpse the expression on his face!

Moving straight through to the adjoining bathroom, she turned on the shower, discarded her briefs and bra, then stepped beneath the warm, pulsing water.

Selecting shampoo, she massaged it through the length of her hair, then rinsed it off before reaching for the soap—and encountered a strong male hand.

‘Is this what you’re looking for?’

She went still with shock as fear unfurled in the region of her stomach. Slowly she pushed back the wet length of her hair, and a silent gasp parted her lips at the sight of him standing within touching distance, every last vestige of clothing removed from his powerful frame.

‘Ready to cry wolf, Carly?’

No sooner had the soft taunt left his lips than she felt the soap sweep in a tantalisingly slow arc from the tip of her shoulder to the curve at her waist. She had to get out now. She tried, except that one hand closed over her arm, holding her still, while the other curved round her shoulder, and she was powerless to resist as he turned her round to face him.

‘I’m sorry.’ It was a half-hearted apology, and his answering smile was wholly cynical as his fingers trailed an evocative path over the surface of her skin, tracing the delicate line of her collarbone, then brushing lower to the dark aureole surrounding the tight bud of her left breast.

‘Don’t.’ The single plea went unheeded, and her stomach quivered as his hand slid to caress her hip, the narrow indented waist, before traversing to cup the soft roundness of her bottom.

Without her being aware of it, he’d managed to manoeuvre her so that the jet of water streamed against his back, and she stood still, her eyes wide and luminous beneath his hooded gaze.

‘Stefano—’ she protested as he pulled her close against him. His arousal was a potent virile force, and she arched back, straining against the circle of his arms in an effort to put some distance between them.

‘You can’t do this,’ she whispered in a broken voice.

Yet he could, very easily. He knew it, just as she did. All it would take was one long drugging open-mouthed kiss to destroy any vestige of her self-restraint.

One strong hand slid up to cup her nape, his thumb tilting the uppermost edge of her jaw, holding it fast as she attempted to twist her head away from him. Then his lips brushed hers, lightly at first, teasing, nibbling, tasting in a manner that was deliberately erotic, and left her aching with a terrible hunger, that longing for the satisfaction only he could give.

She resisted for what seemed a lifetime, but playing cool to Stefano’s undoubted expertise wreaked havoc with her nervous system, and she gave a hollow groan of despair as he lifted her high up against him, parting her thighs so that she straddled his waist, then she cried out as he lowered his head and took one tender peak into his mouth, suckling with such flagrant eroticism that she clutched hold of his hair in an effort to have him desist.

Just when she thought she could stand it no longer, he transferred his attention and rendered a similar attention to its twin until she begged him to stop.

Then he slowly raised his head, his eyes incredibly dark as they speared hers, and she felt her lips tremble uncontrollably at the sense of purpose evident. Time became a suspended entity, and she couldn’t have torn her gaze away if her life depended on it.

With a sense of impending fascination she watched in mesmerised silence as his mouth lowered down over her own, and she gave a silent gasp as he plundered the moist cavern at will, punishing, tantalising, until she gave the response he sought.

When at last he lifted his head she wanted to weep, and she just looked at him, her soft mouth quivering and faintly bruised as she blinked rapidly against the rush of warm tears.

As soon as his hands curved beneath her bottom she knew what he meant to do, and she swallowed convulsively.

His entry was slow, stretching silken tissues to their furthest limit as they gradually accepted his swollen length, and his eyes trapped hers, witnessing her every expression as he carefully traversed the tight, satiny tunnel leading to the central core of her femininity.

Her beautiful eyes widened measurably as his muscular shaft attained its pinnacle. The feeling of total enclosure was intense, and a slow warmth gradually flooded her being, radiating in a tumultuous tide until her whole body was consumed with it. The blood vessels swelled and became engorged, activating muscle spasms over which she had no control, and she unconsciously clenched her thighs, instinctively arching away from him as a pulsating rhythm took her towards fulfilment.

At the zenith, she threw back her head, gasping as he drew her close and feasted shamelessly at her breast, tossing her so close to the edge between pain and pleasure that the two became intermingled, and she cried out, caught in the sweet torture of sexual ecstasy.

Then his hands shifted to her hips, lifting her slightly as he began a slow, tantalising circular movement that sent her to the brink and beyond before he took his pleasure with deep driving thrusts that drew soft guttural cries of encouragement which she refused to recognise as her own.

Afterwards he held her close for what seemed an age, then he gently withdrew and lowered her carefully to her feet.

She stumbled slightly, and clutched hold of him, then she stood transfixed as he caught up the soap and slowly cleansed every inch of her body.

When he’d finished he held out the bar of soap and when she shook her head he placed it in her palm before covering it with his own and transferring it to his chest. His eyes never left hers as he carefully traversed every ridge, every muscle, until his ablutions were complete.

She ached, everywhere. Inside and out. And she stood quiescent as he gently towelled her dry, then transferred his attention to removing the moisture from his own body.

Carly felt totally enervated, and she was powerless to resist as he placed a thumb and forefinger beneath her chin. She wanted to cry, and there were tears shimmering, welling from the depth of her eyes. There was a deep sense of emotional loss for the passion of mind and spirit they’d once shared. For then it had been a joy, a total merging of all the senses, transcending everything she’d ever dreamed…and more.

Her lashes fluttered down, veiling her expression, and concealing the haunting vulnerability she knew to be evident.

Without a word he slid an arm beneath her knees and carried her through to the bedroom, sweeping back the covers on the bed before slipping with her beneath the sheets.

Carly craved the sweet oblivion of sleep, but it had never seemed more distant, and she provided little resistance as Stefano curved her close in against him. She felt his lips brush the top of her head, and the gentle caress of his hand as it stroked the length of her body before coming to rest on the soft silken curls at the junction between her thighs. His fingers made a light probing foray, and she stiffened as they encountered the slight ridge caused by endless sutures.

‘You had a difficult birth with Ann-Marie?’

Carly closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘Yes,’ she acknowledged quietly, and felt silent anger emanate through his powerful body as he swore softly, viciously, in his own language. There was no point informing him that her meagre savings hadn’t allowed for the luxury of private care.

Nor, in the long silent minutes that slowly ticked by, could she assure him that the wonder of holding Ann-Marie in her arms for the first time swept aside the trauma of a painful birth.

Even now it was a vivid memory, and she stared sightlessly into the darkness as she recalled the joy and the tears associated with those initial few years as she’d struggled to support them both.

Carly became aware of the soft brush of his fingers against her skin, and felt the faint stirring deep within her as her body responded to his touch. She wanted to move away, but she was caught in a mystical mesmeric spell, and she gave a faint despairing moan as his lips sought the soft hollows at the base of her throat in an erotic savouring that sent the blood coursing through her veins like quicksilver.

Not content, he trailed a path to her breasts to begin an evocative tasting that made her arch against him, and she barely registered the faint guttural sounds that whispered into the night air as his mouth travelled lower, teasing, tantalising, until she was driven almost mad with need.

When he reached the most intimate crevice of all she cried out at the degree of pleasure he was able to arouse, until ecstasy transcended mere pleasure, and she begged, pleading with him to ease the ache deep within her. Yet he stilled her limbs, soothing her gently as he brought her to a climax so tumultuous that it was beyond any mortal description, then he took her in his arms and rolled on to his back, carrying her with him so that she straddled his hips, his mouth warm as he pulled her head down to hers in a kiss so sweetly passionate that she almost cried.

His mouth left hers and trailed to nuzzle the sweet hollows at the base of her throat, then he shifted his hands to her ribcage as he gently positioned her, his eyes dark and intently watchful of the play of emotions chasing across her expressive features as she accepted his full length.

Carly felt a heady sense of power, and her eyes widened slightly as she glimpsed the slumberous passion evident in his dark eyes, the gleam of immense satisfaction, and knew the measure of his control. Unconsciously she arched her body, stretching like a playful young kitten, and revelled at his immediate response.

‘Careful, cara,’ he bade teasingly. ‘Or you may get more than you bargained for.’

She moved against him with slow deliberation, undulating her hips in a gentle erotic movement that drew a warning growl, then his hands closed over her lower waist, and she lost control as he set the pace, taking her higher and higher until she cried out and clung on to his arms in a bid to gain some balance in an erotic ride that had no equal. At least, not in her experience.

Slowly, gradually, his movements began to ease, and then his hands slid to her hips, holding her still as he gently stroked his length, almost withdrawing before plunging with infinite slowness until she felt a wondrous suffusing of heat that swelled, triggering a miasma of sensation spiralling through her body until every nerve-end seemed to radiate with exquisite sweetness.

He shuddered, his large body racked with emotion, and she looked at him with an incredible sense of wonder as he became caught in the throes of passion: man at his most vulnerable, adrift in a swirling vortex of sexual experience.

Then his breathing began to slow, and the madly beating pulse at his throat settled into a steady beat. His features softened and his eyes became luminescent for a few heart-stopping minutes, and just for a milli-second she glimpsed the heart of his soul.

Then his hands slid up to cup her breasts, caressing with such acute sensitivity that she caught her breath, and she made no demur as he gently drew her down to him, cradling her head against a muscled shoulder. His fingers trailed over her hair, while a hand slid with tactile softness down the length of her spine. She felt his lips brush across her forehead, then settle at her temple, soothing, until the shivery warm sensation gradually diminished and she was filled with a dull, pleasurable ache.

‘I hurt you.’ The words held a degree of regretful remorse, and she stirred faintly against him.

Tomorrow there would be an unaccustomed tenderness evident, but she didn’t care, for it had nothing to do with physical pain, merely satiated pleasure in its most exhilarating extreme. She sought to reassure him, and moved her lips against his throat, then gently nipped a vulnerable hollow.

‘You still want to play?’ His voice reverberated against her mouth, and she felt rather than heard his soft husky laughter when she shook her head in silent negation.

‘Then go to sleep, cara bella,’ Stefano bade her gently.

And she did, drifting easily into dreamless oblivion, unaware that he carefully disengaged her and curled her into the curve of his body before reaching for the sheet to cover their nakedness.