When Hearts Collide - By James, Kendra Page 0,59
and she felt the heat of his breath caress her earlobe.
She couldn’t concentrate. A small voice somewhere at the back of head said, “no,” but the rest of her body said, “yes.” Her body won. “Yes,” she answered his unvoiced question.
His hands moved to the hem of her knit shirt and pulled it over her head. Then his mouth was on hers, soft, teasing, demanding. His lips caressed a path down her chin, her neck, her sternum, the mounds of her breasts. His teeth nipped at her bra, stretching the lace until one breast was free. As his hand freed her other breast, Molly’s fingers worked through the silky dark strands of his head.
His hands cupped her naked breasts, his mouth tickling an erect nipple. The need for him to make love to her became a physical ache, the urges obliterating any conscious thought. His mouth slid along the mound of her breast. She moaned and leaned into him. Suddenly, the voice at the back of her head shouted. He doesn’t love you. This doesn’t mean anything to him. You’ll regret this.
From somewhere, Molly gained the strength to pull away. “I can’t do this.” She raced up the stairs to her room. Once inside, she leaned against the doorframe, grasping for breath. For the second time that day, her pillow became drenched with her tears.
Molly woke with a start. The room was still dark. She glanced at the digital readout on the alarm clock. 3 a.m. What had wakened her? All was silent, except for the faint rustle of wind through the trees and the trill of raccoons in the woods behind the house. Normal sounds, not sounds that would startle her awake.
Was Gracie having a nightmare? No, it wasn’t a nightmare. There were no screams, no crying. Then she heard it. She recognized it immediately—that harsh seal bark. Now that Molly thought of it, Gracie had coughed a couple of times that day, but that cough had now developed into croup. Molly flew out of the bed and sprinted down the hall.
Gracie lay prone on the mattress, her head stretched back onto the pillow, extending her neck. The nightlight shed a soft glow on her body, but it was not enough to properly assess the child. Molly flipped on the lamp by the bed. Gracie continued to sleep, but with each breath, she labored.
Molly lifted the child’s pajama top and saw the outline of Gracie’s ribs with each rise and fall of her tiny chest. Her trachea sucked in as she tried to pull air through constricted bronchi. Molly’s own heart constricted at the bluish cast to Gracie’s lips. There was a high-pitched squeaking noise when the child inhaled. Molly felt the color leech from her face. Stridor. Gracie was in respiratory distress.
Molly mentally ran through the treatment of croup. She needed to make it easier for air to get into the child’s lungs, something to ease the constriction in her bronchi and allow more oxygen into her small body. Molly didn’t have time to drive the child to a hospital. She needed to act quickly. Gracie needed humidity to decrease the swelling in her airways. Did Pearce have a humidifier? She hadn’t seen one. What else could she use?
Grabbing sheets and comforter, Molly gathered Gracie into her arms and raced to the bathroom. She wondered how long the child had been having trouble breathing. Turning the shower hot water tap on full blast, she let the steam envelop the room.
Gracie roused and started crying. She sounded as if she’d developed laryngitis while she’d been slept. A coughing spell racked her tiny form, the series of barks sounding like a pool of barking seals. Molly sat with Gracie on her knees and let the moist, humid air engulf them both. She waited and watched, and waited some more.
“Molly Mommy?” Gracie’s voice was a hoarse whine. “I’m cold.”
The effort of speaking resulted in another paroxysm of tight barking coughs. Pulling the comforter around Gracie’s shoulders, Molly cuddled the child in her arms. She sighed in relief when the child’s cough settled and she was able to relax against her.
While she let the steam work, Molly kept a vigilant eye on the child’s condition. She watched for cyanosis, drooling, increased indrawing, and fortunately there was none. Was she imagining that the rise and fall of the child’s chest seemed to be easier? Molly twisted her head and examined the slender neck. Gracie’s struggle to get air into her lungs was