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Suddenly, her feet left the carpet, she clung more to him at the same time he sat on the sofa. And brought her to straddle him, fumbling with her skirts to bunch them around her thighs. His strained erection reached her hard and hungry, making her abandon all sensible thoughts.
She undid his shirt; he unbuttoned her dress, they grappled at one another mindlessly. When his mouth closed around her bared breast, she arched with shameless pleasure. He passed to the other, his hand participating in the torment too. She robbed her turn, descending on him, mouth open on his muscled chest, her hands groping everywhere, his neck, his strong arms and lower.
Breathless desperation dominated them. Voracious, they struggled with clothing impediment, more and more urgent in their mutual need. Breeches open, drawers gone, they joined in a frenzy of passion engendered by time, and distance, she kept from him. Dam burst, they moved as if there was no tomorrow. They moved faster, hungrier, blinder. Release found them apocalyptical, leaving him spent and her very satisfied. She fell on him, he embraced her exhausted and content. Sated at last. Stillness befell lengthy.
“Come back to my bed.” She heard him mutter in the curve of her neck a long time afterwards. His hand roved the bare skin on her nape.
Her body still fallen on him, her hair half undone, their clothes crushed. Reality seemed difficult to come to at the moment. She did not find what to answer to it. Her senses drenched with the aftermath of their passion, her mind foggy with the remains of pleasure.
“Maybe.” She mumbled to dispense with the question.
“I miss you.” His hand travelled down her spine, causing her shrills. “I miss you like crazy!”
Startled with his utterings, which reflected hers so accurately, she stood up in a jerky movement, her hands straightening her dishevelled clothes.
A glance at him, he continued sitting there, semi naked, shirt gaping to one side, uncovering his strong chest, midnight hair mussed, jaw darkened by stubble. Breeches unbuttoned. Oh, lord! His appetising… manhood in the way of inflating once more as his dark eyes observed her attentive.
If she stayed in here, she would succumb yet again. The last of her buttons in place, she ripped her eyes from his middle to focus on his aristocratic feature.
“Can we talk later? I have things to do now.” Evasion. She became a master in evasion. The chiding clear.
At this, his eyes pierced hers almost uncovering her deepest secrets. His inspection continued until she feared she would bear it no more. She broke contact as her mind started bogging and her body kindling.
“Key.” She requested detached.
He picked it from his pocket, and extended it, without diverting his eyes from her.
Later in the evening, she sat in the drawing room, a letter in her hands. Conrad found her looking down on it pensively.
She had changed to another of her practical dresses, rosewood hair tightly re-done. He made a mental note to throw those horrible things away, even if they aroused him to painfull levels.
“Is anything the matter?” The door clicked shut so the warmth of the fire would not leave the room.
He followed her here, as she had been too quiet at dinner, answering his comments with monosyllables. He would not allow her to deflect him anymore. They must sort out this mess once and for all.
“I am going to visit my cousin.” She informed, her eyes coming up to meet his.
He looked closely at her. Something was amiss; he could not quite grasp what. “When?”
“Tomorrow. She invited me.” She diverted her eyes back to the letter.
“How long?” This did not sound right. He did not want her away from him. She still got sick sporadically; and he wanted to be around to assist her if needed.
“A couple of…” She breathed to full lungs before completing. “A couple of weeks.”
His brow pleated, annoyed. “No!” He commanded without hesitation. This seemed another of her evasion strategies.
Her eyes snapped to him. “I did not ask your permission.”
“I am not giving it, anyway.” He knew her cousin lived in Ipswich. This implied a rather long carriage drive. Probabilities being she would remain there for as long as she was welcome. It might amount to months. A separation de facto.
Her rosewood eyes spit fire at his edit. “It really doesn’t matter.” She defied him. “I have made my plans.”
“You will have to change your plans, I am afraid.” He maintained, with finality.
She shot up from her armchair, fuming now. “You are nobody to dictate what I will do or won’t do! She came to stand three feet from him, eyeing him stonily, letter crunched in her hand.
“I am your husband; in case you have forgotten.” Either he played the adamant spouse card or she would slip away from him.
