"I... I haven't brushed my teeth."
"I don't mind."
Rosalind Lowell felt his scorching heat, and his hand...
She held her breath, turned her head to the side, and squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't want to..."
She was practically begging.
'She was scared. What if she really was pregnant...'
Alaric Davenport stopped, brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, and caressed her forehead with his thumb. "They're dead..."
The word "dead" felt particularly sharp to Rosalind Lowell. She slowly opened her eyes and looked into his, a growing unease churning within her.
"What?" Her voice was hoarse. The word was trapped in her throat, spoken almost silently.
Alaric Davenport's cool eyes were filled with pity and heartache. He stroked her head with his large palm. "They're dead..."
He had wanted to tell her last night but couldn't bring himself to do it. Still, he knew she had to be told sooner or later, so he had deliberately stayed behind today to wait for her to wake up.
