Benjamin Richardson chuckled, glanced at his cousin, stood up and patted him on the shoulder, saying, "It's getting late, I'll head back now. Focus on your work."
Autumn had arrived. Though the daytime temperature was still as sweltering as before, the mornings and evenings had started to carry a hint of coolness.
Owen Moreland entered the master bedroom with the chill of the outdoors clinging to him. He saw Amelia Clarke sitting on the sofa. The buttons of her pajama top were undone, exposing one side of her chest. Grimacing, she was using a breast pump to express milk. On the coffee table in front of her were two storage bottles—one full, the other empty.
"What are you doing?" Under the surge of hormones, his voice was deep and husky.
Amelia was absorbed in her task. The sudden voice startled her; her gaze flicked toward him, carrying a fleeting sense of nervousness. Her cheeks flushed lightly as she replied, "I'm storing milk."
