He didn't have to say it. His touch branded the truth right into her bones.
She glanced down at her chest.
The soft cotton of her bra was already stained with two distinct, wet circles. Her aching nipples were practically burning through the material, fresh drops of milk soaking the pale fabric, ruining the clean garment in seconds.
He stared pointedly at the wet spots.
"What happened?" he murmured, an infuriatingly smug lilt in his voice.
She let out a shaky breath and reached for her blouse.
He snatched it first. With a fluid, gentlemanly grace, he held the garment open for her. She glared at him for a second before sliding her arms into the sleeves. He drew the pale fabric up over her shoulders, his broad palms smoothing down the length of her arms to her wrists, his heat lingering on her chilled skin.
