Fic: Camelot Enterprises 4/4: Darts of Pleasure, Arthur/Gwen, 14A
Title: Camelot Enterprises 4/4: Darts of Pleasure
Author: kepp0xy
Rating: 14A
Characters/Pairing: Gwen/Arthur
Warning: Some discussion and thought about explicit goings on.
Summary: Gwen wakes up on a Saturday morning.
Author's Notes: This is a cracky AU in which Camelot is a computer business owned by Uther Pendragon. Arthur Pendragon is a Junior Executive in the company, Merlin is his PA and a computer whizkid; Morgana Le Fay, Uther's neice, is in charge of Marketing and Gwen is her PA. This A/G fluff series is in 4 parts; 3 written by me and 1 by tater_mae. She and I have had fun playing in this 'verse, so there may be more fics forthcoming, but for the time being, we hope you enjoy these! Part 1; Part 2; Part 3.
Gwen woke up slowly and pressed her head back into her pillows. It was surprising how much more comfortable her bed seemed after a good night's sleep. Even the blankets and sheets against her bare skin seemed particularly soft, though she was a bit surprised to realise she had slept in the nude. And she didn't remember changing fabric softeners, but the scent filling her nostrils was different, though very familiar... Smelled almost like...
She bolted upright, wide-eyed, and spotted Arthur in a bathrobe, sitting at a breakfast table across the room, reading a newspaper. She gasped in shock, and pulled the blankets up to cover her bare chest. He looked up at her somewhat hesitantly and smiled crookedly.
"Good morning," he said softly.
Staring at him, feeling like a deer in the headlights, Gwen stammered out, "Good morning," before lying back down and burying her head beneath the covers. So, the reason the bed had been more comfortable was because it belonged to her multimillionaire boss, who she now remembered having had sex with the previous night. Several times.
"Oh god," she moaned, and began groping under the covers in the hope that she'd find some article of clothing to slip into. Then she would somehow escape his flat, get home and possibly figure out a way to resign without completely shattering Morgana's heart. Perhaps she would simply attempt to convince her boss to arrange for them both to be reassigned to Switzerland or somewhere. Morgana always talked about how much she loved the Swiss Alps.
A weight landed on the bed beside her and Arthur's voice said tentatively, "I have your clothes."
Gwen closed her eyes against a wave of embarrassment that washed through her before sliding up the bed and poking her head out from under the blanket. "Thank you, sir." They both winced at the automatic title.
"Guinevere, I..." Arthur began slowly after a moment. Then he ran his fingers through his fringe, brushing it aside, and Gwen vividly remembered doing the same as he poised above her. Her heart pounded at the memory and she watched as emotions slid over his expression before he suddenly stood, looking awkward. "I'll leave you alone to get dressed."
As the door clicked shut behind him, she blew out a long breath and slid from the bed. A mirror faced her across the room and she noticed marks all down her chest and stomach. Heat flashed through her as she remembered his mouth sucking gently at her skin in calculated ways that lead to their third time. The first had been fast; passion and lust guiding them to quick orgasms that left them entwined and sweaty amongst his sheets. The subsequent times had been attentive, and almost... loving. He explored her body in ways even Lance had not been bold - or creative - enough to, and welcomed her doing the same to him.
She had lost count of how many times they cried out. Gwen had thought she'd known intimacy, but Arthur, her boss - a man who society and decorum said she could no more than play with, no matter at her desires - had taught her how little she'd known.
A lump rose to her throat as she pulled on her knickers (the ghost of his lips pressed to her hip bone), as she slid into her jeans (his palms brushing against her legs as he pushed them down), as she clasped her bra (his breath panted moistly against her neck) and as she tugged on her shirt (his voice husked in her ear through the noise of the club, "Come home with me.")
She raised a trembling hand to her hair, attempting to push the messy frizz of curls into something a bit more elegant before slowly opening the door. Gwen's stomach twisted nervously and her palms began to sweat. Faced with a hallway, she took a deep breath and walked slowly towards the over-bright kitchen area.
"Ah," he said when he saw her. He had shed his bathrobe and was now dressed casually in a formfitting sweater and jeans. "Guinevere." Arthur pushed some buttons on a coffee maker before turning entirely to face her and leaning back against the counter top.
Gwen tucked some hair behind her ear as the silence between them lengthened. "Well, I think I'm going to go," she said slowly and turned quickly towards where she thought she remembered the door to be.
"Wait," he called after her and she paused. She spotted her jacket on a hanger in a small alcove, and her clutch on a table by the door. At least she was guaranteed a fast exit.
"Really, I think I should be going," she said tightly.
"At least stay for breakfast," he said imploringly behind her. "I'm told I can cook." There was a pause. "By cook, I really mean that I can cut up fruit and make a salad."
She smiled slightly and dropped her head with a sigh. She felt as though her heart was in her throat as she turned to face him, her cheeks burning. "I can stay for a fruit salad."
Arthur returned her smile and walked to the fridge. Gwen stood watching him as he moved, eyes drifting down to his bum as he bent over. She cleared her throat as she thought of how her hands had grasped it only a few hours earlier, and looked away, walking slowly towards the island where she sat on a stool.
"Apples, oranges, bananas, strawberries and grapes. Sound good?"
"I'm easy," she said offhandedly, still trying to clear the images from her head. Then her mind caught up with her words as he smirked slightly at her over his shoulder, and she added, "I didn't mean that I'm easy in the sense that... I mean, I don't wake up in other people's beds often - this is really the first time I've ever, and it's only because I actually know you and I've thought about it. Not that I was hoping you would ask but I considered the possibility after those times at the club..." Gwen took a deep breath and met his gaze, which was amused and made her blush all the more. "Those fruits are just fine," she said breathlessly.
He ducked his head to hide a grin and set about preparing the salad. They chatted in fits and starts as he worked, mostly small comments about work or the Avalon Nightclub, but for the most part Gwen felt herself surprisingly comfortable with silence between them.
As he was about to start on the strawberries, the last fruit left, he paused and laid the knife aside. "Guinevere?" he said carefully, staring at the cutting board.
"Yes, Arthur?" she asked. She rested her cheek on her palm and couldn't keep a small smile from her face.
He looked up at her from beneath his fringe. "You don't regret last night, do you?"
Gwen's heart ached at the look on his face; she didn't understand the vulnerability there, why he should look scared of her answer and why he asked the question at all. She had assumed that he was simply being a gentleman when he asked her to stay for breakfast, not wanting her to leave feeling at all undignified and so she had accepted the offer to maintain peace. But his eyes seemed to tell her something else entirely, and she wondered if perhaps last night meant more than simply sex to him too.
"Not for what it was," she said slowly. Arthur's expression relaxed somewhat, but she could tell he also braced for what was next. "But... Arthur, you're my boss."
"Morgana's your boss," he responded immediately.
"And you're the son of the CEO of the company," she continued as though he hadn't spoken. "I can't be seen... I could lose my job, my reputation would be in tatters... People would think that I only..." She couldn't even finish the sentence as a charge of worry went through her.
"Did you?" he asked. She could see his body stiffen as though preparing for an attack.
Gwen tilted her head to the side, frowning slightly. "Did I what?"
He watched her shrewdly for a moment and his shoulders dropped. "Nevermind. No one need know about last night," he said softly; to her ears it sounded more like a begrudging offer than a solid assurance.
"I'm not concerned about that, not really," she finally admitted. She shouldn't explain what she was actually afraid of, it would be more simple to allow him to believe she thought it was just a one night stand. Something with no meaning except sex. That her fear was for people to find out and for it to ruin her. But at his raised brow and sad eyes, she found herself saying, "I'm worried about what it means for us." She knew that regardless of what she wanted, he couldn't offer her much more than his friendship, and she had come to value that very highly. Guilt knotted her stomach as she thought of how her agreement last night may have ruined that.
"It doesn't have to mean anything," he said looking away. He picked up the knife and began slicing the strawberries.
"Sex always changes things," she said. Gwen felt her cheeks heat up again as he met her gaze once more. She couldn't stop her mind as it began playing over moments of the previous night (the thrill of hearing him husk her name; how the bristles on his chest felt to her tongue and the taste of his sweat; his lips moving on hers as she lay back on his bed; that no man had taken such care to ensure her pleasure; how his lips dusted her eyelids as she fell asleep in his arms) and by the distant look now in his eyes, she assumed his mind did the same.
"It's just," she said after a few moments, licking her lips to banish the memories. His eyes refocused on her and no more words left her mouth. She stared at him, and he at her.
After a few more moments, Arthur looked down and resumed cutting. She watched him as he took the various fruits and put them into a bowl, using a pair of tongs to mix. He walked to the cabinet and retrieved two bowls, collecting the salad on his way to her. Sliding onto the stool beside her, he began serving up.
"Tell me when to stop," he murmured. Gwen closed her eyes briefly wishing she'd told him to stop months ago when they'd first danced together. The distance between them had closed after that point, his smiles and greetings, their small conversations and the times he and Merlin joined she and Morgana at lunch inching them closer to this point. And then they'd begun to flirt with each other in earnest, followed by a couple more heated dances at the club and finally...
"Oh, stop!" she said when her bowl was almost full. "Sorry, I think that may be too much for me."
"Mind elsewhere?" he asked with an ironic smile, taking some of the salad back.
He didn't seem to want an answer, so she began eating. Her mind didn't really register the flavours, instead she tried to figure out how best to excuse herself.
"Stay the weekend," Arthur suddenly said beside her. She looked at him in shock and put her fork down, for fear of dropping it later. He turned to face her, his wary eyes wandering over her face carefully.
"What?"
"I asked you to stay the weekend," he said again, more slowly this time.
"Stay the weekend?" she echoed. Her heart pounded as her mind shuddered to a stop. There were certain things that Guinevere had taught herself to expect from life, and other things that she had taught herself not to dream of. Arthur's offer had been clearly labelled in the 'don't even dream it' list, and yet she was fairly certain she was awake now.
"Yes. Stay here, with me, for the weekend."
"I don't have any clothes."
Gwen watched as Arthur's lips twitched, almost breaking into a devilish grin. "You really probably won't need any," he responded coyly, and she remembered how his mouth had whispered into her skin the previous night. She blushed furiously and looked away. "Come, Guinevere," he said seductively. "Don't leave."
"This is a really stupid idea," she burst out. A look of hurt flashed on his face and he looked away from her. "I mean, on my part. I don't... Can't you see? You take over my thoughts and I do these rash things that - it's just, I see you look at me from across the office, and all I can think is that if only we were different people because I think you and I would be amazing, but office politics..." She took a shuddering breath as he raised his head to meet her eyes again. She knew she should probably stop, that her voice was close to breaking, but the words were flowing now and they wouldn't seem to stop. "And now, you invite me to your flat and we... A few times... Oh god, a lot of times. And then you say 'Guinevere, stay the weekend' and make it seem like it would all be possible when it isn't. It just isn't, Arthur. And-
"Guinevere," he said sternly and she closed her mouth with a snap. Her blood rushed in her ears and her palms were sweaty, her stomach twisted in knots. She wanted him to convince her, make her believe that they could have this. "Instead of thinking of the impossibilities..." he trailed away, pausing to consider his words. She really did want to stay. Gwen didn't want to deny the draw he had on her anymore. "Do you know how my father made Camelot successful?"
Gwen blinked, of all the things she expected to come from his mouth, a discussion about Camelot Enterprises was not it. "No," she said softly.
"I know many employees find my father's ways to be... outdated and think some of his practises redundant. But at the time, he was one of the few to invest so much in computer technologies. People actually said that a personal computer could never happen." Suddenly she found her hand clasped tightly in his and he took their entwined hands into his lap, covering her hand with his free one. She was startled by the warmth that flowed through her from the point of contact, it was the first he'd touched her since she fell asleep last night. "People also say that office romances don't work. We'll prove them wrong."
She closed her eyes as anxiety knotted her stomach tighter. "What makes this weekend different from any other?" she whispered.
"You said yes," he whispered back.
She opened her eyes and watched him; her heart throbbed painfully to believe him. She couldn't figure out exactly why he would be this interested in her staying. She took a deep breath and blew it out, holding his earnest gaze the while. It probably was stupid, and the necessary secrecy would drive her mad, but... Gwen laughed suddenly. "I have to watch out for you, Arthur Pendragon," she said. "You're a dangerously smooth talker."
He grinned smugly at her. "How do you think I maintain our clientele?"
"And convince girls to follow you home?"
"It only took four words to convince you," he reminded her, smile broadening at her flush. "And for the record," he added after a short pause, face sobering. "I have had women spend just the night before. But I've never asked any of them to stay for longer."
Gwen looked at him speculatively. She still doubted the chances, and wasn't entirely comfortable that it appeared a kind-of relationship was springing from an impulsive night of sex, but she knew Arthur was a good man and she didn't realise until then how desperately she actually wanted him.
"I need to take a shower," she said finally, and felt her heart flutter that his relief was almost palpable. "And I do want some other clothes. Do you think... Well, I mean, would it be a trouble to borrow something of yours?"
A flash of heat moved through his eyes at that suggestion, but she could see as he fought back the urge and cleared his throat. "I think I can find something that will fit you."
"That's actually clothing," she said sternly.
Arthur chuckled. "I was only kidding when I said you wouldn't need clothes." She raised a brow at him. "All right, hardly kidding at all." He released her hand as he stood and collected their dishes, walking them to the sink and dropping them in haphazardly. "The washroom is down the hall next to the bedroom. I'll lay out clothes for you on the bed."
Gwen nodded, slid from the stool with a soft thud and padded her way towards the hall.
"Oh, and Guinevere," Arthur said from behind her.
She turned to face him slowly, eyebrows raised curiously. "Yes?"
"If you leave the bathroom door unlocked," he said softly, splaying his hands on the kitchen island and leaning towards her. She could see his eyes blaze from across the room and felt her skin tingle in anticipation. "I will join you."
Author: kepp0xy
Rating: 14A
Characters/Pairing: Gwen/Arthur
Warning: Some discussion and thought about explicit goings on.
Summary: Gwen wakes up on a Saturday morning.
Author's Notes: This is a cracky AU in which Camelot is a computer business owned by Uther Pendragon. Arthur Pendragon is a Junior Executive in the company, Merlin is his PA and a computer whizkid; Morgana Le Fay, Uther's neice, is in charge of Marketing and Gwen is her PA. This A/G fluff series is in 4 parts; 3 written by me and 1 by tater_mae. She and I have had fun playing in this 'verse, so there may be more fics forthcoming, but for the time being, we hope you enjoy these! Part 1; Part 2; Part 3.
Gwen woke up slowly and pressed her head back into her pillows. It was surprising how much more comfortable her bed seemed after a good night's sleep. Even the blankets and sheets against her bare skin seemed particularly soft, though she was a bit surprised to realise she had slept in the nude. And she didn't remember changing fabric softeners, but the scent filling her nostrils was different, though very familiar... Smelled almost like...
She bolted upright, wide-eyed, and spotted Arthur in a bathrobe, sitting at a breakfast table across the room, reading a newspaper. She gasped in shock, and pulled the blankets up to cover her bare chest. He looked up at her somewhat hesitantly and smiled crookedly.
"Good morning," he said softly.
Staring at him, feeling like a deer in the headlights, Gwen stammered out, "Good morning," before lying back down and burying her head beneath the covers. So, the reason the bed had been more comfortable was because it belonged to her multimillionaire boss, who she now remembered having had sex with the previous night. Several times.
"Oh god," she moaned, and began groping under the covers in the hope that she'd find some article of clothing to slip into. Then she would somehow escape his flat, get home and possibly figure out a way to resign without completely shattering Morgana's heart. Perhaps she would simply attempt to convince her boss to arrange for them both to be reassigned to Switzerland or somewhere. Morgana always talked about how much she loved the Swiss Alps.
A weight landed on the bed beside her and Arthur's voice said tentatively, "I have your clothes."
Gwen closed her eyes against a wave of embarrassment that washed through her before sliding up the bed and poking her head out from under the blanket. "Thank you, sir." They both winced at the automatic title.
"Guinevere, I..." Arthur began slowly after a moment. Then he ran his fingers through his fringe, brushing it aside, and Gwen vividly remembered doing the same as he poised above her. Her heart pounded at the memory and she watched as emotions slid over his expression before he suddenly stood, looking awkward. "I'll leave you alone to get dressed."
As the door clicked shut behind him, she blew out a long breath and slid from the bed. A mirror faced her across the room and she noticed marks all down her chest and stomach. Heat flashed through her as she remembered his mouth sucking gently at her skin in calculated ways that lead to their third time. The first had been fast; passion and lust guiding them to quick orgasms that left them entwined and sweaty amongst his sheets. The subsequent times had been attentive, and almost... loving. He explored her body in ways even Lance had not been bold - or creative - enough to, and welcomed her doing the same to him.
She had lost count of how many times they cried out. Gwen had thought she'd known intimacy, but Arthur, her boss - a man who society and decorum said she could no more than play with, no matter at her desires - had taught her how little she'd known.
A lump rose to her throat as she pulled on her knickers (the ghost of his lips pressed to her hip bone), as she slid into her jeans (his palms brushing against her legs as he pushed them down), as she clasped her bra (his breath panted moistly against her neck) and as she tugged on her shirt (his voice husked in her ear through the noise of the club, "Come home with me.")
She raised a trembling hand to her hair, attempting to push the messy frizz of curls into something a bit more elegant before slowly opening the door. Gwen's stomach twisted nervously and her palms began to sweat. Faced with a hallway, she took a deep breath and walked slowly towards the over-bright kitchen area.
"Ah," he said when he saw her. He had shed his bathrobe and was now dressed casually in a formfitting sweater and jeans. "Guinevere." Arthur pushed some buttons on a coffee maker before turning entirely to face her and leaning back against the counter top.
Gwen tucked some hair behind her ear as the silence between them lengthened. "Well, I think I'm going to go," she said slowly and turned quickly towards where she thought she remembered the door to be.
"Wait," he called after her and she paused. She spotted her jacket on a hanger in a small alcove, and her clutch on a table by the door. At least she was guaranteed a fast exit.
"Really, I think I should be going," she said tightly.
"At least stay for breakfast," he said imploringly behind her. "I'm told I can cook." There was a pause. "By cook, I really mean that I can cut up fruit and make a salad."
She smiled slightly and dropped her head with a sigh. She felt as though her heart was in her throat as she turned to face him, her cheeks burning. "I can stay for a fruit salad."
Arthur returned her smile and walked to the fridge. Gwen stood watching him as he moved, eyes drifting down to his bum as he bent over. She cleared her throat as she thought of how her hands had grasped it only a few hours earlier, and looked away, walking slowly towards the island where she sat on a stool.
"Apples, oranges, bananas, strawberries and grapes. Sound good?"
"I'm easy," she said offhandedly, still trying to clear the images from her head. Then her mind caught up with her words as he smirked slightly at her over his shoulder, and she added, "I didn't mean that I'm easy in the sense that... I mean, I don't wake up in other people's beds often - this is really the first time I've ever, and it's only because I actually know you and I've thought about it. Not that I was hoping you would ask but I considered the possibility after those times at the club..." Gwen took a deep breath and met his gaze, which was amused and made her blush all the more. "Those fruits are just fine," she said breathlessly.
He ducked his head to hide a grin and set about preparing the salad. They chatted in fits and starts as he worked, mostly small comments about work or the Avalon Nightclub, but for the most part Gwen felt herself surprisingly comfortable with silence between them.
As he was about to start on the strawberries, the last fruit left, he paused and laid the knife aside. "Guinevere?" he said carefully, staring at the cutting board.
"Yes, Arthur?" she asked. She rested her cheek on her palm and couldn't keep a small smile from her face.
He looked up at her from beneath his fringe. "You don't regret last night, do you?"
Gwen's heart ached at the look on his face; she didn't understand the vulnerability there, why he should look scared of her answer and why he asked the question at all. She had assumed that he was simply being a gentleman when he asked her to stay for breakfast, not wanting her to leave feeling at all undignified and so she had accepted the offer to maintain peace. But his eyes seemed to tell her something else entirely, and she wondered if perhaps last night meant more than simply sex to him too.
"Not for what it was," she said slowly. Arthur's expression relaxed somewhat, but she could tell he also braced for what was next. "But... Arthur, you're my boss."
"Morgana's your boss," he responded immediately.
"And you're the son of the CEO of the company," she continued as though he hadn't spoken. "I can't be seen... I could lose my job, my reputation would be in tatters... People would think that I only..." She couldn't even finish the sentence as a charge of worry went through her.
"Did you?" he asked. She could see his body stiffen as though preparing for an attack.
Gwen tilted her head to the side, frowning slightly. "Did I what?"
He watched her shrewdly for a moment and his shoulders dropped. "Nevermind. No one need know about last night," he said softly; to her ears it sounded more like a begrudging offer than a solid assurance.
"I'm not concerned about that, not really," she finally admitted. She shouldn't explain what she was actually afraid of, it would be more simple to allow him to believe she thought it was just a one night stand. Something with no meaning except sex. That her fear was for people to find out and for it to ruin her. But at his raised brow and sad eyes, she found herself saying, "I'm worried about what it means for us." She knew that regardless of what she wanted, he couldn't offer her much more than his friendship, and she had come to value that very highly. Guilt knotted her stomach as she thought of how her agreement last night may have ruined that.
"It doesn't have to mean anything," he said looking away. He picked up the knife and began slicing the strawberries.
"Sex always changes things," she said. Gwen felt her cheeks heat up again as he met her gaze once more. She couldn't stop her mind as it began playing over moments of the previous night (the thrill of hearing him husk her name; how the bristles on his chest felt to her tongue and the taste of his sweat; his lips moving on hers as she lay back on his bed; that no man had taken such care to ensure her pleasure; how his lips dusted her eyelids as she fell asleep in his arms) and by the distant look now in his eyes, she assumed his mind did the same.
"It's just," she said after a few moments, licking her lips to banish the memories. His eyes refocused on her and no more words left her mouth. She stared at him, and he at her.
After a few more moments, Arthur looked down and resumed cutting. She watched him as he took the various fruits and put them into a bowl, using a pair of tongs to mix. He walked to the cabinet and retrieved two bowls, collecting the salad on his way to her. Sliding onto the stool beside her, he began serving up.
"Tell me when to stop," he murmured. Gwen closed her eyes briefly wishing she'd told him to stop months ago when they'd first danced together. The distance between them had closed after that point, his smiles and greetings, their small conversations and the times he and Merlin joined she and Morgana at lunch inching them closer to this point. And then they'd begun to flirt with each other in earnest, followed by a couple more heated dances at the club and finally...
"Oh, stop!" she said when her bowl was almost full. "Sorry, I think that may be too much for me."
"Mind elsewhere?" he asked with an ironic smile, taking some of the salad back.
He didn't seem to want an answer, so she began eating. Her mind didn't really register the flavours, instead she tried to figure out how best to excuse herself.
"Stay the weekend," Arthur suddenly said beside her. She looked at him in shock and put her fork down, for fear of dropping it later. He turned to face her, his wary eyes wandering over her face carefully.
"What?"
"I asked you to stay the weekend," he said again, more slowly this time.
"Stay the weekend?" she echoed. Her heart pounded as her mind shuddered to a stop. There were certain things that Guinevere had taught herself to expect from life, and other things that she had taught herself not to dream of. Arthur's offer had been clearly labelled in the 'don't even dream it' list, and yet she was fairly certain she was awake now.
"Yes. Stay here, with me, for the weekend."
"I don't have any clothes."
Gwen watched as Arthur's lips twitched, almost breaking into a devilish grin. "You really probably won't need any," he responded coyly, and she remembered how his mouth had whispered into her skin the previous night. She blushed furiously and looked away. "Come, Guinevere," he said seductively. "Don't leave."
"This is a really stupid idea," she burst out. A look of hurt flashed on his face and he looked away from her. "I mean, on my part. I don't... Can't you see? You take over my thoughts and I do these rash things that - it's just, I see you look at me from across the office, and all I can think is that if only we were different people because I think you and I would be amazing, but office politics..." She took a shuddering breath as he raised his head to meet her eyes again. She knew she should probably stop, that her voice was close to breaking, but the words were flowing now and they wouldn't seem to stop. "And now, you invite me to your flat and we... A few times... Oh god, a lot of times. And then you say 'Guinevere, stay the weekend' and make it seem like it would all be possible when it isn't. It just isn't, Arthur. And-
"Guinevere," he said sternly and she closed her mouth with a snap. Her blood rushed in her ears and her palms were sweaty, her stomach twisted in knots. She wanted him to convince her, make her believe that they could have this. "Instead of thinking of the impossibilities..." he trailed away, pausing to consider his words. She really did want to stay. Gwen didn't want to deny the draw he had on her anymore. "Do you know how my father made Camelot successful?"
Gwen blinked, of all the things she expected to come from his mouth, a discussion about Camelot Enterprises was not it. "No," she said softly.
"I know many employees find my father's ways to be... outdated and think some of his practises redundant. But at the time, he was one of the few to invest so much in computer technologies. People actually said that a personal computer could never happen." Suddenly she found her hand clasped tightly in his and he took their entwined hands into his lap, covering her hand with his free one. She was startled by the warmth that flowed through her from the point of contact, it was the first he'd touched her since she fell asleep last night. "People also say that office romances don't work. We'll prove them wrong."
She closed her eyes as anxiety knotted her stomach tighter. "What makes this weekend different from any other?" she whispered.
"You said yes," he whispered back.
She opened her eyes and watched him; her heart throbbed painfully to believe him. She couldn't figure out exactly why he would be this interested in her staying. She took a deep breath and blew it out, holding his earnest gaze the while. It probably was stupid, and the necessary secrecy would drive her mad, but... Gwen laughed suddenly. "I have to watch out for you, Arthur Pendragon," she said. "You're a dangerously smooth talker."
He grinned smugly at her. "How do you think I maintain our clientele?"
"And convince girls to follow you home?"
"It only took four words to convince you," he reminded her, smile broadening at her flush. "And for the record," he added after a short pause, face sobering. "I have had women spend just the night before. But I've never asked any of them to stay for longer."
Gwen looked at him speculatively. She still doubted the chances, and wasn't entirely comfortable that it appeared a kind-of relationship was springing from an impulsive night of sex, but she knew Arthur was a good man and she didn't realise until then how desperately she actually wanted him.
"I need to take a shower," she said finally, and felt her heart flutter that his relief was almost palpable. "And I do want some other clothes. Do you think... Well, I mean, would it be a trouble to borrow something of yours?"
A flash of heat moved through his eyes at that suggestion, but she could see as he fought back the urge and cleared his throat. "I think I can find something that will fit you."
"That's actually clothing," she said sternly.
Arthur chuckled. "I was only kidding when I said you wouldn't need clothes." She raised a brow at him. "All right, hardly kidding at all." He released her hand as he stood and collected their dishes, walking them to the sink and dropping them in haphazardly. "The washroom is down the hall next to the bedroom. I'll lay out clothes for you on the bed."
Gwen nodded, slid from the stool with a soft thud and padded her way towards the hall.
"Oh, and Guinevere," Arthur said from behind her.
She turned to face him slowly, eyebrows raised curiously. "Yes?"
"If you leave the bathroom door unlocked," he said softly, splaying his hands on the kitchen island and leaning towards her. She could see his eyes blaze from across the room and felt her skin tingle in anticipation. "I will join you."