The Way of Things, Chapter 40
Peter was silent on the drive back into town, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he looked at the road. Something had occurred to him-or startled him-as he’d kissed her, and she wondered what it was. He glanced over at her several times, smiling, before returning his attention back to the road, and she felt a slow excitement build as they neared the hotel.
She was going to sleep with him tonight; was, in fact, actively planning on it instead of just letting it happen. It was as far as possible from how things had unfolded the night before, when she had still been nervous and worried that he’d never forgive her, emotions that seemed so ridiculous to her in retrospect. Instead, now, she felt her heart begin to speed at the thought of what might happen. He’d said it didn’t mean they’d have sex, but she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to share a bed with him and not touch or taste him.
He pulled to a stop outside the entrance to the hotel, and they sat in silence for a brief moment. She swallowed, steeled herself, and offered, “D’you want to come with me? Wait inside while I pack?”
He looked at her, his dark eyes glittering in the light from the hotel, and her breath caught at the intensity of the look. If he came upstairs, she wasn’t entirely sure they’d leave.
He seemed to have the same thought, finally responding in a low voice, “That is...not such a good idea...”
She gave him a tremulous grin, excitement warring with nervous anticipation, and she leaned over to give him a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back.”
She ran upstairs, hastily throwing her clothes off once in her room. She paused, briefly, in the process of pulling on her jeans, looking at the lacy knickers she’d worn. Perfect, she thought. She selected a hoodie, pulled it on, and slid on a pair of loosely-laced trainers; she stopped briefly in the bathroom to brush her teeth before returning to the room itself to pack some work clothes in her bag. She returned to the en-suite, sweeping her shampoo and conditioner into a hand towel, before adding in her hair things and deodorant; she didn’t think they’d be doing anything outside the norm the next day, and she should have enough to get through a standard workday.
She picked up the phone and tried to ring Mickey, Jake, and James; they were all still out, apparently, and she huffed in frustration. She didn’t have time to write them all notes, but it felt wrong to simply leave a voice-mail; she compromised, drafting a joint note to all of them, letting them know she was going to be with Peter, and for the love of God to please call if anything came up. She slipped it under James’s door, figuring he’d be the most coherent when they returned from the pub, and returned to Peter’s car some fifteen minutes after she’d left it.
“I was beginning to wonder if perhaps you weren’t waiting for me upstairs, after all,” he said, a grin pulling at his lips as she settled into her seat.
She looked steadily at him as he began to drive. “The thought didn’t even cross my mind-I just wanted to get back downstairs...to you.”
The engine revved as he missed shifting, his eyes skating to hers in surprise. He quickly returned his gaze to the road, changing gears and dropping the RPMs as he navigated the town. He was taking her yet another route this time; she wondered if it was the shortest way to his house.
The short drive was filled with a tense silence, Rose feeling the anticipation continue to build, to coil tighter in her stomach. Her breath was shallow by the time he pulled in front of his house, the small lamp over the door burning merrily in the darkness.
She was going to do this again, quite deliberately. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought.
Peter got out of the car, silently; walked around and handed her out, pulling her to him for a knee-jellying kiss. She gasped for air as he pulled back, that distracting smirk appearing on his lips as she dazedly opened her eyes.
She shook her head, re-focused, met his warm gaze. “I thought you said this wasn’t about sex,” she managed to say, leaning against the car.
“I said inviting you to stay with me wasn’t the same as asking you to have sex,” he corrected, his eyes boring into hers.
“Right,” she replied unsteadily.
He took a step back, his hands sliding from hers. “Let’s get inside, shall we?”
She nodded, momentarily thrown off-balance by the mercurial change; she wondered at it, curious as to what had brought it on but just as eager as he was to get inside the house, to steal more kisses from him. He retrieved her bag from the backseat of the car, led her up the path to the front door; he preceded her in this time, flipping on a light switch and illuminating the hall and the stairwell. She closed the door behind them, turning the lock; she paused, facing the door, trying to find some equilibrium. She heard Peter set her bag down, felt him at her back, the warmth from his body setting her already heightened senses aflame.
“I’m sorry, Rose. I…didn’t mean to...I meant it when I said it wasn’t about sex,” he whispered against her ear, brushing a light kiss against her neck, before taking a step back. She turned, letting the door support her, and saw Peter looking at her gravely.
“’s okay,” she replied, her voice a whisper.
He tucked a hand in his trouser pocket, ran the other along the back of his neck; at his display of uncertainty, she took a step forward. He dropped his hand, his expression growing vulnerable as she stopped in front of him. She reached her hand out, her eyes following her fingers as they lightly danced down his tie; she felt his breath hitch as she reached the end, her hand sliding to rest on his waist.
She thought of him at dinner, sitting across the table from her, fiddling with his knife and reciting the facts of his childhood like they were paragraphs in a warrant. She might have told him she wasn’t up for another bout of shagging-and she really didn’t think she was, physically-but that didn’t mean she couldn’t think of other things to do. She leaned forward, raised herself on her toes as she braced her other hand on his chest. “Why don’t we go upstairs, Peter?”
She returned to standing in front of him, gazing up at him; he looked at her, disbelief appearing once more in his expression. Her hand drifted upwards, cupped his jaw, and he turned to gently kiss her palm.
“Let’s,” he said, softly. He took a step back, catching her hand in his. He stopped briefly to pick up her bag with his free hand, before leading her slowly up the stairs. It was slow, measured; they both were going into this clear-headed, and she felt the importance of the decision resonate as they reached the upstairs hallway.
They were both deadly serious about this thing between them, whatever it was, whatever it might become. She squeezed his hand gently, and he turned to give her a gentle smile in return as he led her to his room.
He let go of her hand as they entered the increasingly familiar space, setting the bag on the floor as he crossed to turn on the light next to the bed. He looked at her as he walked back towards her, before walking along the other side of the bed and turning on the second lamp.
The room looked exactly as it had that morning when they had gone to work, the sheet and duvet still bundled in the centre of the bed. There were a few coat hangers strewn across it; leftovers from his getting ready for their date, she supposed, but they were the only evidence that he had been there since she had left.
He hastily pulled the duvet up and across the bed, collecting the hangers before looking apologetically at her; she felt the corner of her mouth quirk in amusement. He smiled in response as he returned to the wardrobe, slowly opening the door and setting the hangers in the bottom of it before shrugging off his suit coat. She walked towards him; he raised his eyes to her, surprised, and she held his gaze as she closed the remaining distance between them.
“Peter...” Her voice was quiet, almost hoarse; she saw his eyes darken as he watched her. He continued to watch her as he leaned down, slowly, bringing his lips to hers in a heartbreakingly gentle kiss.
She returned it, waiting to see if he would break or deepen it, and sighed as she felt his arms come around her, pulling her closer to him. Her hands drifted upwards, resting on his shoulders as she leaned upwards into his kiss, and she felt the fabric of his coat, still held in his hand, brush against her bum as he moved his arms up her back. His lips parted, his tongue ghosting along her lower lip, and she opened her mouth with a sigh. She felt the coat drop as he deepened the kiss, and slowly slid a hand along the back of his neck, up into his hair.
They stood, lips brushing against each other, tongues exploring, hands drifting, for several moments; unlike the night before, the pace was almost leisurely. It felt like heaven, Peter’s tongue alternately caressing and teasing her as his hands held her in place against him, and she knew there was simply no way she’d be able to share a bed with him and not wind up snogged silly and-most likely-shagged rotten.
He finally pulled back, brushing one last, light kiss against her lips before releasing her and taking a step back, and she opened her eyes to find him looking at her intently. She smiled softly at him, finding she felt strangely relaxed and absolutely certain about where she wanted the night to go.
She once more closed the distance between them, bringing both hands to the knot of his tie; she held his gaze as she unknotted it, enjoying as his reaction shifted from confusion to disbelief to want. She grinned teasingly, knowing that he enjoyed it, and was rewarded by his hands grabbing her waist and pulling her hips towards his.
“I thought it wasn’t about the sex, Peter,” she said, humour in her voice. “Something like asking me to stay with you isn’t the same as asking me to shag you?”
“It’s going to be if you don’t stop,” he growled in response.
She pulled the untied silk through his collar, watching his eyes flicker at the sensation, and felt heat pool low in her stomach. She was surprised by just how much she wanted him, body aches and exhaustion be damned.
She leaned up, kissed his jaw as she began to work at the buttons of his shirt; he slid his hands under her hoodie, his fingers rubbing lightly across her skin as she worked. Neither of them spoke, focusing instead on the sensations they were causing in each other, and she had soon revealed the vest underneath his dress shirt.
She sighed in mock exasperation as she encountered the cotton. “Peter, do you have to wear so many clothes?” She looked at him through her lashes, a sly smile on her lips; she fought back a grin as he quickly shrugged off his shirt and pulled his vest off.
“Is this better?” he whispered against her mouth before kissing her again.
He deftly removed her hoodie in between kissing her nearly insensate, leaving her in her bra, and she began to get the impression she was losing control of the situation. Not that she minded, but it wasn’t at all what she had planned for him-not tonight.
She nipped at his lower lip, took a step back; by the time he opened his eyes, she’d unbuckled his belt. She leaned forward, whispering, “Much better,” in answer to his question, and slipped her trainers off before stepping towards him again. She wondered if he’d worked out exactly what she had in mind.
He hastily kicked his shoes off before leaning in once more for a kiss. She gasped at the feel of his skin against hers, his erection pressing into her as his hands grasped her bum and pulled her waist flush against him. She rotated her hips against his, took advantage of his momentary distraction to take a step back. As he opened his eyes to look at her, she unzipped her jeans and wriggled out of them.
His hands reached for the button of his trousers and she took a hasty step forward, her hand stopping his. “No. I want to do this.”
His eyes widened in surprise before focusing on her with laserlike intensity; she felt her breath catch at the feeling of being under that look, knowing she was the only thing he was seeing at that moment.
She could get used to being the centre of his attention, she thought.
She looked up at him, chewing on her lower lip, as she briefly debated her options. She came to a decision, resting her hands on his hips as she whispered, “Can we move to the bed?”
He blinked before nodding, briefly. It was a bit awkward, the two of them crossing the room, and he quirked a brow in amusement as they came to a stop at the side of the bed. “Whatever are you going to do with me now?” he drawled, his voice low; she felt her body respond, eager to re-learn the man in front of her.
“Oh, I’ve got an idea or two,” she replied, licking her lips. Her hands drifted back to his waist, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his trousers before sliding down to cup him. His eyes flickered shut, his head dropping back, and she nipped at the column of his exposed throat. He groaned, and she smiled as she ran her tongue down the line of his neck, across his Adam’s apple, to the hollow at the base of his throat.
She shifted her hands, unzipping his fly; her hands ghosted to his sides, her fingers sliding between the soft wool of the trousers and his pants, moving the dress fabric over his hips and sliding it down his thighs. He didn’t move, his hands resting on her hips as she continued to lavish attention on his neck, now kissing each freckle she found lurking there.
Her hands moved to the waistband of his pants, her fingers drifting along the line between fabric and skin. She slid them forwards, backwards, repeating the motion, setting a gentle rhythm, and Peter finally could resist no more. He raised his head, opened his eyes, even as his fingers slid under the lace of her knickers. He kissed her temple, ran a line of kisses along her hairline, as his hands slid fully under the lace, drifting around to cup her bum and pull her towards him.
She turned, kissed his cheek before ducking her torso away, her hands moving under the cotton of his pants and sliding along the skin of his hips. She brought them forward, cupping him even as she flicked her wrists and brought the waistband down and over his erection. He pushed forward into her hands, his lips crashing into hers, and she once again nipped at his lip.
“Let’s get these off you, shall we,” she whispered against his lips. He resumed kissing her, distracting her briefly with the fervency of his kisses before removing his hands from her knickers and reaching to help remove his pants.
His trousers were pooled around his ankles still, and he briefly wobbled as he worked the cotton of his pants over his thighs. She took advantage of his instability, pushing him into a seated position on his bed, and he looked only slightly stunned as he landed with a soft ‘whump’ on the mattress.
He recovered quickly, removing his ankles from the tangle of fabric before reaching out and pulling Rose’s hips towards him. He kissed her stomach, his tongue lazily drawing circles over her skin; she looked down, watching his tousled brown hair as he teased her. She drifted her fingers through his hair, bringing her hand down to tilt his chin upwards; he met her eyes, and she felt her heart stop at the intensity of his gaze. He continued to look at her as his hands slid down to the tops of her legs, as his fingers worked up under the damp lace of her knickers and slid through the curls at the apex of her thighs. She moaned as he flattened his palm, pressing the heel of his hand upwards against her, his deft fingertips curling upwards to just tease her at her opening.
He looked up at her, pausing; she knew the merest motion from her would encourage him to coax her to a climax. The idea was so very, very tempting-and yet not how she wanted the evening to go, at all. Peter always made her feel like she was the most important thing in the universe. His dates, his kisses, his lovemaking were all lavish, intent, generous. It had occurred to her that night that she wasn’t sure how often Peter had been on the receiving end of such sensations and feelings, instead of the one providing them.
She was determined to make him feel that he was the most important thing in the universe. She reached down, grabbed his wrist gently with her hand, and slowly shifted her hips back. She didn’t miss the flash of hurt and confusion which crossed his face, and she bent forward. “Not yet,” she whispered, brushing her lips over his. She felt his hand move to cup her face as he strained upwards to kiss her; she brought her hands up to cradle his jaw, focusing all of her attention on kissing him, on letting him know how much she wanted him through the movement of her lips and tongue.
She had to pull back, to catch her breath, the intensity of what was flowing between them making it incredibly hard to get oxygen into her lungs. Peter blinked his eyes open, gasping as he looked at her, and his hands started to drift down her body towards his knickers.
She smiled slowly, feeling a sudden burst of confidence; Peter froze, his eyes widening as hope flashed through them. She gently pushed on his shoulders, encouraging him to fall onto his back on the mattress. “Lay down, Peter,” she whispered, leaning towards him. He complied, laying on his back, scooting himself fully onto the bed; she moved over him, her knees resting between his thighs and her weight propped on her arms, and gazed down at him. His skin was flushed, a slight sheen of sweat coating it; his hair was damp, and she lightly ran the backs of her fingers over the hair framing his face. She couldn’t imagine tiring of the image in front of her, Peter laying on his duvet, the red setting off his dark hair and fair skin, his nearly black eyes boring into her as she looked at him.
He reached up, pulled her down to him; she kissed him greedily, arching her back so her lace-covered breasts pushed against his chest. Her hand slid down along his side; she danced her fingers across his hip bone, and felt him still as she stopped just short of his erection. She lightly raked her nails across the sensitive skin just above it, felt his hips rock upwards, and began to play with the coarse hair surrounding the base of his penis.
He had stopped kissing her, his attention entirely focused elsewhere, and she pulled back so she could look at him once more. He opened his eyes as he felt her move, looked at her with a hint of confusion. “You don’t have to...”
Her eyes flickered down to his lips briefly before she replied. Holding his gaze, she answered gravely, “I want to.” She placed a kiss on his lips before moving her mouth to his ear, determined to make him understand. “I want to do this for you.”
She didn’t give him a chance to reply, instead moving to kiss him even as she moved her hand, wrapping it lightly around his erection. She stroked lightly, getting used to the feel of him, even as she placed light kisses against his lips. She paused, running her thumb through the slickness at the tip of his shaft, and was rewarded as he let out a low, needy groan.
She couldn’t help the smile which crossed her lips, and was caught off guard when he moved his head, moving to whisper against her ear, “Stop teasing, Rose.”
He released her and she pulled back so she could see him. His eyes were glazed with need, and she watched as she wrapped her hand around him and gently squeezed.
His eyes shut; his jaw dropped open, his tongue resting against his front teeth as he concentrated. She leaned down, placed a kiss on his jaw, and began to slide along his body. For every stroke upwards she made, she placed a kiss against his skin; for every stroke down, her fist coming to rest against his base, she nipped. His elbows were digging into the bed, his hands flexing in between fisting the duvet; when she began to place kisses over his chest, down to his stomach, his hands drifted to her hair.
She propped herself up once more, looking up to Peter; he was lost in the moment, in the sensation she was creating in him; she twisted her wrist as she stroked upwards, rubbed a circle around the head; when she slid her hand down again, she slowly bent forwards and took him in her mouth.
It had been a long time since she’d done this, and it took her a few tries to remember how to relax her throat before she could concentrate on her rhythm. She soon found it, sucking on him as she slid her mouth along his shaft, dancing the tip of her tongue along the underside of his erection before running light circles around his tip; she blew on him gently, before taking him fully into her mouth once more.
Peter arched into her, gritting out her name; she felt him harden further just as the wave crashed through him. She sucked gently on him in time to his pulsing release, working to prolong his orgasm, wanting him to enjoy it as much as he possibly could.
He finally relaxed, the tension leaving his body, and she slid her mouth from him. She crawled upwards along his body, placing light kisses over the fair skin she found, licking any spot that looked interesting and tempting. She wanted to spoil him, she realized. Wanted to spoil him, not just to make up for no one bothering to do it when he had been a little boy-but because a man like Peter deserved to be spoiled, as often as possible. Peter’s eyes were still closed when she reached his face, placing a kiss on his jaw, before tentatively leaning down to kiss his lips.
He surprised her, pulling her to him as he kissed her back hungrily; she felt a small squeak of surprise escape her as he rolled them so he was above her, looking at her. His eyes were burning now, the intensity in them absolutely breathtaking, and she felt her mouth go dry even as her breath caught in her chest. “My turn,” he whispered, shifting his gaze to her mouth; she licked her lips in anticipation, and he pounced.
His kiss was almost punishing, and she was reminded of the night before, when she’d been unable to keep up and had instead simply clung to him, hoping to hang on for the ride. Her arms were wrapped around him, her hands flat against his back, and she curved up into him as his lips began to move away from her mouth, slowly brushing across her neck.
He lavished attention on her skin, his lips and his tongue feeling as though they were everywhere as he moved, his hand sliding down her skin, between her legs. She had to release her hold on him, felt herself begin to spiral off into the throes of need, and grounded herself once more by burying her hands in his hair.
“Rose,” he whispered, her name a question on his lips.
“Peter,” she slowly ground out as he hit the perfect spot, an answer to his question.
He increased his pace in response, only briefly teasing her breasts with his tongue before continuing across her ribs, along her stomach. He drew a lazy circle with his tongue around her belly button, before dragging it downwards to the place she most wanted him to be.
He moved quickly, shifting so he could yank her knickers down over her hips; she continued to run her fingers through his hair as he slid down, drifting a line of kisses down from her navel. Her hands once more found their way to his hair, her fingers luxuriating in the softness even as the rest of her body coiled in anticipation of what he was about to do to her. Her eyes had fluttered shut at some point, and she heard him gently say her name, felt his breath whisper against the skin just above the line of dark curls.
She opened her eyes, looked down, saw his dark eyes looking up at her; she felt another flash of heat pass through her, and Peter returned his attention to his task. She closed her eyes, gave herself over to the sensation of Peter drifting kisses across her most sensitive area, his tongue sliding into the warm folds of flesh before dancing across her centre. Her hips bucked upwards, her hands fisting in the fabric of his duvet, and she felt him smile against her.
One of his hands moved to hold her in place as he continued to shower attention on her, his tongue lapping against her as the fingers of his other hand danced along in its wake. Her orgasm built almost immediately, her body incredibly sensitive to his ministrations; she moaned his name as she felt the wave begin to rush through her, and he slowly slid two fingers into her as the flat of his tongue pressed against her clitoris. The action caused her to arch off the bed, her orgasm exploding through her, and she heard his name ripped from her throat as the sensation overwhelmed her. He continued to stroke against her, coaxing the most he could from her orgasm, until his attentions began to tickle her.
She giggled, tugging lightly on his hair. “Peter.”
He raised his head, his eyes glittering in the light; he held her gaze as he slowly licked his lips. “Peter.” Her voice was lower, more demanding, and he slowly crawled back up her body.
“Yes, Rose,” He whispered, coming to a stop above her. She felt pinned under his gaze, her heart racing as he looked at her, eyes drifting between her lips and her eyes; she felt the corner of her lips curve in a slight smirk as she slowly leaned up towards him, capturing his lips with hers.
He groaned into her as she kissed him, tasting herself on his lips; she moaned in return, deepening their kiss, stroking her tongue along the roof of his mouth. She arched up against him, loving the intimacy, the feeling of him stretched, fully naked, along her body; she wanted him again, in spite of her body beginning to register exactly how exhausted it was.
He broke the kiss, running the tip of his tongue slowly along the line of her jaw, bringing his cheek along hers. “Thank you,” he whispered against her ear, ghosting a light kiss against her earlobe before rising up to look at her.
She blinked, confused. “For what?” Her voice was raspy; she sounded like she’d been shagged rotten.
“For an incredible date. For...dessert.” He leaned down, kissed her softly, whispering against her lips, “For being you.”
It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her, and she felt her heart clench. She was in very grave danger of falling quite hard for the man above her, she realized. She had no notion of what to say in response, instead returned his kiss and channelled her feelings into it.
Peter ended the kiss gently, brushing three simple kisses against her lips before he braced himself on his elbows. She opened her eyes to find him looking at her, an amused glint in his eye.
“Yes?” she drawled, humour in her voice.
He grinned, shaking his head. “The best laid plans of mice and men...”
She arched her eyebrow, and he elaborated. “I really hadn’t planned on something like this tonight, you know. I meant it when I said ‘sleep.’”
“If this is what you mean when you say it’s not about sex…”
Peter looked rueful. “Well. Yes,” he sighed. “I know.””
She suppressed her smile. “Regrets?” She tried to lend gravity to her voice, to hold Peter’s eye; she failed miserably, a satisfied smile crossing her face as a lazy grin appeared on his.
“Oh, not at all.”
They stared at each other, wearing matching silly grins, until Rose began to feel the effects of drinking with dinner.
“Er, Peter...” She wasn’t quite sure how to ask for what she needed, and so lightly pushed against his shoulder. He looked at her, confused, and she stuttered, “I...I need the loo.”
He rolled to the side, and she scurried, blushing, to the door across the room.
When she re-emerged, Peter had donned his pyjamas; he handed her his robe and she gratefully took it, eager for the warmth. She snuck another sniff of the collar as she watched him hang his suit up, carefully placing it back in the wardrobe before closing the doors. It occurred to her that, if she kept wearing this robe, it would begin to smell more like her than him, and she wondered if she could persuade him to wear it every so often to keep it fresh for her.
He grinned at her as he turned, catching her watching him as she leaned against the end of the bed, and she felt her lips curve in an answering smile even as she blushed. She thought it possible he would do anything he asked of her, even if she asked him to wear the robe down to the High Street, and that thought made her catch her breath.
“Did you not want to dress for bed?” he asked, walking towards her.
She ducked her head, embarrassed. “I forgot to pack my jim-jams.”
He stopped in front of her, placing a crooked finger under her chin and bringing it up so she would look at him. “You what?” His voice was low, and he was wearing that smirk she’d discovered he loved using on her.
She met his eyes defiantly. “I forgot them.”
“Here I thought it wasn’t about the sex, and yet you didn’t even manage to bring something to sleep in for our sleepover,” he grinned, and pulled her to him in a hug. “Ah, Rose.” He brushed a kiss over her hair, released her; he went to the wardrobe, and pulled one of his many vests off a shelf. “Will this do?”
She snatched it from his hand, fighting down the smile which was trying to get out. He laughed, and she joined in, giggling helplessly against him. Peter had enfolded her in a hug, and she found her breath stolen away when he leaned down and placed another of his toe-curling kisses against her lips.
She blinked her eyes open slowly as he pulled away, taking a step back; he was gazing at her intently as she focused, and was surprised to see how quickly his expression changed when he noticed her looking at him. It was curious, she thought, wondering what he had been thinking so hard about.
He smiled, took a step back, saying “Time to get ready for bed, I think.”
It was a short while later that they were curled against each other in his bed, the alarm set for the morning and the lights switched off. Peter’s hand ghosted across her back, rubbing up and down soothingly, and she sighed contentedly against his chest as she felt herself relax.
“You going to be able to sleep tonight?” he asked, softly.
She nodded. “I think so. If not, ‘s not your fault.”
She felt his lips against her hair. “I might want you to sleep here-and I do, I don’t think there’s any doubt about that. But not if it means you’ll wind up sleep-deprived.”
She smiled. “Now you think of that.”
She felt him chuckle. “Ah, well, I suppose we’ll just have to give it a second try.”
“Darn the luck,” she said, ruefully. He squeezed her against him, and she smiled again.
She felt Peter relax, heard his breathing even out after a few minutes; he’d dropped off to sleep almost immediately, and she found herself wishing there was more light in the room. She closed her eyes, imagining what Peter looked like relaxed, unguarded; maybe, with luck, she’d wake up early enough to find out.
She was going to sleep with him tonight; was, in fact, actively planning on it instead of just letting it happen. It was as far as possible from how things had unfolded the night before, when she had still been nervous and worried that he’d never forgive her, emotions that seemed so ridiculous to her in retrospect. Instead, now, she felt her heart begin to speed at the thought of what might happen. He’d said it didn’t mean they’d have sex, but she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to share a bed with him and not touch or taste him.
He pulled to a stop outside the entrance to the hotel, and they sat in silence for a brief moment. She swallowed, steeled herself, and offered, “D’you want to come with me? Wait inside while I pack?”
He looked at her, his dark eyes glittering in the light from the hotel, and her breath caught at the intensity of the look. If he came upstairs, she wasn’t entirely sure they’d leave.
He seemed to have the same thought, finally responding in a low voice, “That is...not such a good idea...”
She gave him a tremulous grin, excitement warring with nervous anticipation, and she leaned over to give him a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back.”
She ran upstairs, hastily throwing her clothes off once in her room. She paused, briefly, in the process of pulling on her jeans, looking at the lacy knickers she’d worn. Perfect, she thought. She selected a hoodie, pulled it on, and slid on a pair of loosely-laced trainers; she stopped briefly in the bathroom to brush her teeth before returning to the room itself to pack some work clothes in her bag. She returned to the en-suite, sweeping her shampoo and conditioner into a hand towel, before adding in her hair things and deodorant; she didn’t think they’d be doing anything outside the norm the next day, and she should have enough to get through a standard workday.
She picked up the phone and tried to ring Mickey, Jake, and James; they were all still out, apparently, and she huffed in frustration. She didn’t have time to write them all notes, but it felt wrong to simply leave a voice-mail; she compromised, drafting a joint note to all of them, letting them know she was going to be with Peter, and for the love of God to please call if anything came up. She slipped it under James’s door, figuring he’d be the most coherent when they returned from the pub, and returned to Peter’s car some fifteen minutes after she’d left it.
“I was beginning to wonder if perhaps you weren’t waiting for me upstairs, after all,” he said, a grin pulling at his lips as she settled into her seat.
She looked steadily at him as he began to drive. “The thought didn’t even cross my mind-I just wanted to get back downstairs...to you.”
The engine revved as he missed shifting, his eyes skating to hers in surprise. He quickly returned his gaze to the road, changing gears and dropping the RPMs as he navigated the town. He was taking her yet another route this time; she wondered if it was the shortest way to his house.
The short drive was filled with a tense silence, Rose feeling the anticipation continue to build, to coil tighter in her stomach. Her breath was shallow by the time he pulled in front of his house, the small lamp over the door burning merrily in the darkness.
She was going to do this again, quite deliberately. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought.
Peter got out of the car, silently; walked around and handed her out, pulling her to him for a knee-jellying kiss. She gasped for air as he pulled back, that distracting smirk appearing on his lips as she dazedly opened her eyes.
She shook her head, re-focused, met his warm gaze. “I thought you said this wasn’t about sex,” she managed to say, leaning against the car.
“I said inviting you to stay with me wasn’t the same as asking you to have sex,” he corrected, his eyes boring into hers.
“Right,” she replied unsteadily.
He took a step back, his hands sliding from hers. “Let’s get inside, shall we?”
She nodded, momentarily thrown off-balance by the mercurial change; she wondered at it, curious as to what had brought it on but just as eager as he was to get inside the house, to steal more kisses from him. He retrieved her bag from the backseat of the car, led her up the path to the front door; he preceded her in this time, flipping on a light switch and illuminating the hall and the stairwell. She closed the door behind them, turning the lock; she paused, facing the door, trying to find some equilibrium. She heard Peter set her bag down, felt him at her back, the warmth from his body setting her already heightened senses aflame.
“I’m sorry, Rose. I…didn’t mean to...I meant it when I said it wasn’t about sex,” he whispered against her ear, brushing a light kiss against her neck, before taking a step back. She turned, letting the door support her, and saw Peter looking at her gravely.
“’s okay,” she replied, her voice a whisper.
He tucked a hand in his trouser pocket, ran the other along the back of his neck; at his display of uncertainty, she took a step forward. He dropped his hand, his expression growing vulnerable as she stopped in front of him. She reached her hand out, her eyes following her fingers as they lightly danced down his tie; she felt his breath hitch as she reached the end, her hand sliding to rest on his waist.
She thought of him at dinner, sitting across the table from her, fiddling with his knife and reciting the facts of his childhood like they were paragraphs in a warrant. She might have told him she wasn’t up for another bout of shagging-and she really didn’t think she was, physically-but that didn’t mean she couldn’t think of other things to do. She leaned forward, raised herself on her toes as she braced her other hand on his chest. “Why don’t we go upstairs, Peter?”
She returned to standing in front of him, gazing up at him; he looked at her, disbelief appearing once more in his expression. Her hand drifted upwards, cupped his jaw, and he turned to gently kiss her palm.
“Let’s,” he said, softly. He took a step back, catching her hand in his. He stopped briefly to pick up her bag with his free hand, before leading her slowly up the stairs. It was slow, measured; they both were going into this clear-headed, and she felt the importance of the decision resonate as they reached the upstairs hallway.
They were both deadly serious about this thing between them, whatever it was, whatever it might become. She squeezed his hand gently, and he turned to give her a gentle smile in return as he led her to his room.
He let go of her hand as they entered the increasingly familiar space, setting the bag on the floor as he crossed to turn on the light next to the bed. He looked at her as he walked back towards her, before walking along the other side of the bed and turning on the second lamp.
The room looked exactly as it had that morning when they had gone to work, the sheet and duvet still bundled in the centre of the bed. There were a few coat hangers strewn across it; leftovers from his getting ready for their date, she supposed, but they were the only evidence that he had been there since she had left.
He hastily pulled the duvet up and across the bed, collecting the hangers before looking apologetically at her; she felt the corner of her mouth quirk in amusement. He smiled in response as he returned to the wardrobe, slowly opening the door and setting the hangers in the bottom of it before shrugging off his suit coat. She walked towards him; he raised his eyes to her, surprised, and she held his gaze as she closed the remaining distance between them.
“Peter...” Her voice was quiet, almost hoarse; she saw his eyes darken as he watched her. He continued to watch her as he leaned down, slowly, bringing his lips to hers in a heartbreakingly gentle kiss.
She returned it, waiting to see if he would break or deepen it, and sighed as she felt his arms come around her, pulling her closer to him. Her hands drifted upwards, resting on his shoulders as she leaned upwards into his kiss, and she felt the fabric of his coat, still held in his hand, brush against her bum as he moved his arms up her back. His lips parted, his tongue ghosting along her lower lip, and she opened her mouth with a sigh. She felt the coat drop as he deepened the kiss, and slowly slid a hand along the back of his neck, up into his hair.
They stood, lips brushing against each other, tongues exploring, hands drifting, for several moments; unlike the night before, the pace was almost leisurely. It felt like heaven, Peter’s tongue alternately caressing and teasing her as his hands held her in place against him, and she knew there was simply no way she’d be able to share a bed with him and not wind up snogged silly and-most likely-shagged rotten.
He finally pulled back, brushing one last, light kiss against her lips before releasing her and taking a step back, and she opened her eyes to find him looking at her intently. She smiled softly at him, finding she felt strangely relaxed and absolutely certain about where she wanted the night to go.
She once more closed the distance between them, bringing both hands to the knot of his tie; she held his gaze as she unknotted it, enjoying as his reaction shifted from confusion to disbelief to want. She grinned teasingly, knowing that he enjoyed it, and was rewarded by his hands grabbing her waist and pulling her hips towards his.
“I thought it wasn’t about the sex, Peter,” she said, humour in her voice. “Something like asking me to stay with you isn’t the same as asking me to shag you?”
“It’s going to be if you don’t stop,” he growled in response.
She pulled the untied silk through his collar, watching his eyes flicker at the sensation, and felt heat pool low in her stomach. She was surprised by just how much she wanted him, body aches and exhaustion be damned.
She leaned up, kissed his jaw as she began to work at the buttons of his shirt; he slid his hands under her hoodie, his fingers rubbing lightly across her skin as she worked. Neither of them spoke, focusing instead on the sensations they were causing in each other, and she had soon revealed the vest underneath his dress shirt.
She sighed in mock exasperation as she encountered the cotton. “Peter, do you have to wear so many clothes?” She looked at him through her lashes, a sly smile on her lips; she fought back a grin as he quickly shrugged off his shirt and pulled his vest off.
“Is this better?” he whispered against her mouth before kissing her again.
He deftly removed her hoodie in between kissing her nearly insensate, leaving her in her bra, and she began to get the impression she was losing control of the situation. Not that she minded, but it wasn’t at all what she had planned for him-not tonight.
She nipped at his lower lip, took a step back; by the time he opened his eyes, she’d unbuckled his belt. She leaned forward, whispering, “Much better,” in answer to his question, and slipped her trainers off before stepping towards him again. She wondered if he’d worked out exactly what she had in mind.
He hastily kicked his shoes off before leaning in once more for a kiss. She gasped at the feel of his skin against hers, his erection pressing into her as his hands grasped her bum and pulled her waist flush against him. She rotated her hips against his, took advantage of his momentary distraction to take a step back. As he opened his eyes to look at her, she unzipped her jeans and wriggled out of them.
His hands reached for the button of his trousers and she took a hasty step forward, her hand stopping his. “No. I want to do this.”
His eyes widened in surprise before focusing on her with laserlike intensity; she felt her breath catch at the feeling of being under that look, knowing she was the only thing he was seeing at that moment.
She could get used to being the centre of his attention, she thought.
She looked up at him, chewing on her lower lip, as she briefly debated her options. She came to a decision, resting her hands on his hips as she whispered, “Can we move to the bed?”
He blinked before nodding, briefly. It was a bit awkward, the two of them crossing the room, and he quirked a brow in amusement as they came to a stop at the side of the bed. “Whatever are you going to do with me now?” he drawled, his voice low; she felt her body respond, eager to re-learn the man in front of her.
“Oh, I’ve got an idea or two,” she replied, licking her lips. Her hands drifted back to his waist, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his trousers before sliding down to cup him. His eyes flickered shut, his head dropping back, and she nipped at the column of his exposed throat. He groaned, and she smiled as she ran her tongue down the line of his neck, across his Adam’s apple, to the hollow at the base of his throat.
She shifted her hands, unzipping his fly; her hands ghosted to his sides, her fingers sliding between the soft wool of the trousers and his pants, moving the dress fabric over his hips and sliding it down his thighs. He didn’t move, his hands resting on her hips as she continued to lavish attention on his neck, now kissing each freckle she found lurking there.
Her hands moved to the waistband of his pants, her fingers drifting along the line between fabric and skin. She slid them forwards, backwards, repeating the motion, setting a gentle rhythm, and Peter finally could resist no more. He raised his head, opened his eyes, even as his fingers slid under the lace of her knickers. He kissed her temple, ran a line of kisses along her hairline, as his hands slid fully under the lace, drifting around to cup her bum and pull her towards him.
She turned, kissed his cheek before ducking her torso away, her hands moving under the cotton of his pants and sliding along the skin of his hips. She brought them forward, cupping him even as she flicked her wrists and brought the waistband down and over his erection. He pushed forward into her hands, his lips crashing into hers, and she once again nipped at his lip.
“Let’s get these off you, shall we,” she whispered against his lips. He resumed kissing her, distracting her briefly with the fervency of his kisses before removing his hands from her knickers and reaching to help remove his pants.
His trousers were pooled around his ankles still, and he briefly wobbled as he worked the cotton of his pants over his thighs. She took advantage of his instability, pushing him into a seated position on his bed, and he looked only slightly stunned as he landed with a soft ‘whump’ on the mattress.
He recovered quickly, removing his ankles from the tangle of fabric before reaching out and pulling Rose’s hips towards him. He kissed her stomach, his tongue lazily drawing circles over her skin; she looked down, watching his tousled brown hair as he teased her. She drifted her fingers through his hair, bringing her hand down to tilt his chin upwards; he met her eyes, and she felt her heart stop at the intensity of his gaze. He continued to look at her as his hands slid down to the tops of her legs, as his fingers worked up under the damp lace of her knickers and slid through the curls at the apex of her thighs. She moaned as he flattened his palm, pressing the heel of his hand upwards against her, his deft fingertips curling upwards to just tease her at her opening.
He looked up at her, pausing; she knew the merest motion from her would encourage him to coax her to a climax. The idea was so very, very tempting-and yet not how she wanted the evening to go, at all. Peter always made her feel like she was the most important thing in the universe. His dates, his kisses, his lovemaking were all lavish, intent, generous. It had occurred to her that night that she wasn’t sure how often Peter had been on the receiving end of such sensations and feelings, instead of the one providing them.
She was determined to make him feel that he was the most important thing in the universe. She reached down, grabbed his wrist gently with her hand, and slowly shifted her hips back. She didn’t miss the flash of hurt and confusion which crossed his face, and she bent forward. “Not yet,” she whispered, brushing her lips over his. She felt his hand move to cup her face as he strained upwards to kiss her; she brought her hands up to cradle his jaw, focusing all of her attention on kissing him, on letting him know how much she wanted him through the movement of her lips and tongue.
She had to pull back, to catch her breath, the intensity of what was flowing between them making it incredibly hard to get oxygen into her lungs. Peter blinked his eyes open, gasping as he looked at her, and his hands started to drift down her body towards his knickers.
She smiled slowly, feeling a sudden burst of confidence; Peter froze, his eyes widening as hope flashed through them. She gently pushed on his shoulders, encouraging him to fall onto his back on the mattress. “Lay down, Peter,” she whispered, leaning towards him. He complied, laying on his back, scooting himself fully onto the bed; she moved over him, her knees resting between his thighs and her weight propped on her arms, and gazed down at him. His skin was flushed, a slight sheen of sweat coating it; his hair was damp, and she lightly ran the backs of her fingers over the hair framing his face. She couldn’t imagine tiring of the image in front of her, Peter laying on his duvet, the red setting off his dark hair and fair skin, his nearly black eyes boring into her as she looked at him.
He reached up, pulled her down to him; she kissed him greedily, arching her back so her lace-covered breasts pushed against his chest. Her hand slid down along his side; she danced her fingers across his hip bone, and felt him still as she stopped just short of his erection. She lightly raked her nails across the sensitive skin just above it, felt his hips rock upwards, and began to play with the coarse hair surrounding the base of his penis.
He had stopped kissing her, his attention entirely focused elsewhere, and she pulled back so she could look at him once more. He opened his eyes as he felt her move, looked at her with a hint of confusion. “You don’t have to...”
Her eyes flickered down to his lips briefly before she replied. Holding his gaze, she answered gravely, “I want to.” She placed a kiss on his lips before moving her mouth to his ear, determined to make him understand. “I want to do this for you.”
She didn’t give him a chance to reply, instead moving to kiss him even as she moved her hand, wrapping it lightly around his erection. She stroked lightly, getting used to the feel of him, even as she placed light kisses against his lips. She paused, running her thumb through the slickness at the tip of his shaft, and was rewarded as he let out a low, needy groan.
She couldn’t help the smile which crossed her lips, and was caught off guard when he moved his head, moving to whisper against her ear, “Stop teasing, Rose.”
He released her and she pulled back so she could see him. His eyes were glazed with need, and she watched as she wrapped her hand around him and gently squeezed.
His eyes shut; his jaw dropped open, his tongue resting against his front teeth as he concentrated. She leaned down, placed a kiss on his jaw, and began to slide along his body. For every stroke upwards she made, she placed a kiss against his skin; for every stroke down, her fist coming to rest against his base, she nipped. His elbows were digging into the bed, his hands flexing in between fisting the duvet; when she began to place kisses over his chest, down to his stomach, his hands drifted to her hair.
She propped herself up once more, looking up to Peter; he was lost in the moment, in the sensation she was creating in him; she twisted her wrist as she stroked upwards, rubbed a circle around the head; when she slid her hand down again, she slowly bent forwards and took him in her mouth.
It had been a long time since she’d done this, and it took her a few tries to remember how to relax her throat before she could concentrate on her rhythm. She soon found it, sucking on him as she slid her mouth along his shaft, dancing the tip of her tongue along the underside of his erection before running light circles around his tip; she blew on him gently, before taking him fully into her mouth once more.
Peter arched into her, gritting out her name; she felt him harden further just as the wave crashed through him. She sucked gently on him in time to his pulsing release, working to prolong his orgasm, wanting him to enjoy it as much as he possibly could.
He finally relaxed, the tension leaving his body, and she slid her mouth from him. She crawled upwards along his body, placing light kisses over the fair skin she found, licking any spot that looked interesting and tempting. She wanted to spoil him, she realized. Wanted to spoil him, not just to make up for no one bothering to do it when he had been a little boy-but because a man like Peter deserved to be spoiled, as often as possible. Peter’s eyes were still closed when she reached his face, placing a kiss on his jaw, before tentatively leaning down to kiss his lips.
He surprised her, pulling her to him as he kissed her back hungrily; she felt a small squeak of surprise escape her as he rolled them so he was above her, looking at her. His eyes were burning now, the intensity in them absolutely breathtaking, and she felt her mouth go dry even as her breath caught in her chest. “My turn,” he whispered, shifting his gaze to her mouth; she licked her lips in anticipation, and he pounced.
His kiss was almost punishing, and she was reminded of the night before, when she’d been unable to keep up and had instead simply clung to him, hoping to hang on for the ride. Her arms were wrapped around him, her hands flat against his back, and she curved up into him as his lips began to move away from her mouth, slowly brushing across her neck.
He lavished attention on her skin, his lips and his tongue feeling as though they were everywhere as he moved, his hand sliding down her skin, between her legs. She had to release her hold on him, felt herself begin to spiral off into the throes of need, and grounded herself once more by burying her hands in his hair.
“Rose,” he whispered, her name a question on his lips.
“Peter,” she slowly ground out as he hit the perfect spot, an answer to his question.
He increased his pace in response, only briefly teasing her breasts with his tongue before continuing across her ribs, along her stomach. He drew a lazy circle with his tongue around her belly button, before dragging it downwards to the place she most wanted him to be.
He moved quickly, shifting so he could yank her knickers down over her hips; she continued to run her fingers through his hair as he slid down, drifting a line of kisses down from her navel. Her hands once more found their way to his hair, her fingers luxuriating in the softness even as the rest of her body coiled in anticipation of what he was about to do to her. Her eyes had fluttered shut at some point, and she heard him gently say her name, felt his breath whisper against the skin just above the line of dark curls.
She opened her eyes, looked down, saw his dark eyes looking up at her; she felt another flash of heat pass through her, and Peter returned his attention to his task. She closed her eyes, gave herself over to the sensation of Peter drifting kisses across her most sensitive area, his tongue sliding into the warm folds of flesh before dancing across her centre. Her hips bucked upwards, her hands fisting in the fabric of his duvet, and she felt him smile against her.
One of his hands moved to hold her in place as he continued to shower attention on her, his tongue lapping against her as the fingers of his other hand danced along in its wake. Her orgasm built almost immediately, her body incredibly sensitive to his ministrations; she moaned his name as she felt the wave begin to rush through her, and he slowly slid two fingers into her as the flat of his tongue pressed against her clitoris. The action caused her to arch off the bed, her orgasm exploding through her, and she heard his name ripped from her throat as the sensation overwhelmed her. He continued to stroke against her, coaxing the most he could from her orgasm, until his attentions began to tickle her.
She giggled, tugging lightly on his hair. “Peter.”
He raised his head, his eyes glittering in the light; he held her gaze as he slowly licked his lips. “Peter.” Her voice was lower, more demanding, and he slowly crawled back up her body.
“Yes, Rose,” He whispered, coming to a stop above her. She felt pinned under his gaze, her heart racing as he looked at her, eyes drifting between her lips and her eyes; she felt the corner of her lips curve in a slight smirk as she slowly leaned up towards him, capturing his lips with hers.
He groaned into her as she kissed him, tasting herself on his lips; she moaned in return, deepening their kiss, stroking her tongue along the roof of his mouth. She arched up against him, loving the intimacy, the feeling of him stretched, fully naked, along her body; she wanted him again, in spite of her body beginning to register exactly how exhausted it was.
He broke the kiss, running the tip of his tongue slowly along the line of her jaw, bringing his cheek along hers. “Thank you,” he whispered against her ear, ghosting a light kiss against her earlobe before rising up to look at her.
She blinked, confused. “For what?” Her voice was raspy; she sounded like she’d been shagged rotten.
“For an incredible date. For...dessert.” He leaned down, kissed her softly, whispering against her lips, “For being you.”
It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her, and she felt her heart clench. She was in very grave danger of falling quite hard for the man above her, she realized. She had no notion of what to say in response, instead returned his kiss and channelled her feelings into it.
Peter ended the kiss gently, brushing three simple kisses against her lips before he braced himself on his elbows. She opened her eyes to find him looking at her, an amused glint in his eye.
“Yes?” she drawled, humour in her voice.
He grinned, shaking his head. “The best laid plans of mice and men...”
She arched her eyebrow, and he elaborated. “I really hadn’t planned on something like this tonight, you know. I meant it when I said ‘sleep.’”
“If this is what you mean when you say it’s not about sex…”
Peter looked rueful. “Well. Yes,” he sighed. “I know.””
She suppressed her smile. “Regrets?” She tried to lend gravity to her voice, to hold Peter’s eye; she failed miserably, a satisfied smile crossing her face as a lazy grin appeared on his.
“Oh, not at all.”
They stared at each other, wearing matching silly grins, until Rose began to feel the effects of drinking with dinner.
“Er, Peter...” She wasn’t quite sure how to ask for what she needed, and so lightly pushed against his shoulder. He looked at her, confused, and she stuttered, “I...I need the loo.”
He rolled to the side, and she scurried, blushing, to the door across the room.
When she re-emerged, Peter had donned his pyjamas; he handed her his robe and she gratefully took it, eager for the warmth. She snuck another sniff of the collar as she watched him hang his suit up, carefully placing it back in the wardrobe before closing the doors. It occurred to her that, if she kept wearing this robe, it would begin to smell more like her than him, and she wondered if she could persuade him to wear it every so often to keep it fresh for her.
He grinned at her as he turned, catching her watching him as she leaned against the end of the bed, and she felt her lips curve in an answering smile even as she blushed. She thought it possible he would do anything he asked of her, even if she asked him to wear the robe down to the High Street, and that thought made her catch her breath.
“Did you not want to dress for bed?” he asked, walking towards her.
She ducked her head, embarrassed. “I forgot to pack my jim-jams.”
He stopped in front of her, placing a crooked finger under her chin and bringing it up so she would look at him. “You what?” His voice was low, and he was wearing that smirk she’d discovered he loved using on her.
She met his eyes defiantly. “I forgot them.”
“Here I thought it wasn’t about the sex, and yet you didn’t even manage to bring something to sleep in for our sleepover,” he grinned, and pulled her to him in a hug. “Ah, Rose.” He brushed a kiss over her hair, released her; he went to the wardrobe, and pulled one of his many vests off a shelf. “Will this do?”
She snatched it from his hand, fighting down the smile which was trying to get out. He laughed, and she joined in, giggling helplessly against him. Peter had enfolded her in a hug, and she found her breath stolen away when he leaned down and placed another of his toe-curling kisses against her lips.
She blinked her eyes open slowly as he pulled away, taking a step back; he was gazing at her intently as she focused, and was surprised to see how quickly his expression changed when he noticed her looking at him. It was curious, she thought, wondering what he had been thinking so hard about.
He smiled, took a step back, saying “Time to get ready for bed, I think.”
It was a short while later that they were curled against each other in his bed, the alarm set for the morning and the lights switched off. Peter’s hand ghosted across her back, rubbing up and down soothingly, and she sighed contentedly against his chest as she felt herself relax.
“You going to be able to sleep tonight?” he asked, softly.
She nodded. “I think so. If not, ‘s not your fault.”
She felt his lips against her hair. “I might want you to sleep here-and I do, I don’t think there’s any doubt about that. But not if it means you’ll wind up sleep-deprived.”
She smiled. “Now you think of that.”
She felt him chuckle. “Ah, well, I suppose we’ll just have to give it a second try.”
“Darn the luck,” she said, ruefully. He squeezed her against him, and she smiled again.
She felt Peter relax, heard his breathing even out after a few minutes; he’d dropped off to sleep almost immediately, and she found herself wishing there was more light in the room. She closed her eyes, imagining what Peter looked like relaxed, unguarded; maybe, with luck, she’d wake up early enough to find out.