Raymond knelt, the movement fluid and cautious, as if approaching something fragile. For a heartbeat, his hand hovered in the dead space between them, a moment of sharp, static hesitation.
Then, he let it settle. His palm came to rest over Amara's, shielding the exact spot where the life beneath her skin was stirring.
Amara froze. The warmth of his hand felt disturbingly familiar, a ghost of a sensation she couldn't quite place.
A flash of indignation flared in her chest. How dare he? He was a new hire, a stranger paid to be useful, not intimate. Yet, as she looked at him, she wavered; perhaps it was just the clumsy, misguided reflex of a man trying to help a pregnant woman navigate the treacherous depths of a sofa.
Then, it happened. A kick.
