Chapter 12Andreas was roused from a floating, gentle sort of bliss by crying.
Not bring-the-rafters-down crying. Not the apocalyptic scream of a full nappy, or the desperate wails of a hungry mouth. But crying, all the same.
“I’ll go,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the warm shoulder under his cheek and levering himself reluctantly free from the soft security in which he’d been drifting for the last hour. The s*x itself had been short, sudden, and tantalisingly sweet. But the afterglow had been like heaven, and he’d missed that intimacy far too much for far too long.
He near-floated from the bed to the nursery, which had been converted from its former life as the spare room. Beatriz’s cot was right under the window, a sparkly mobile turning gently above her and casting rainbows on the
