I miss Cobert. :/ And writing.
She felt his hand graze her shoulder and move down to settle at her hip. He leaned into her and could faintly smell her hair, fueling his longing for her. It fortified him as it made him vulnerable – the jasmine smell dizzying his head and stomach; much like when he saw her walking up the lawn to meet him. The kiss they shared then was not brief – especially for one so public – but still, it continued in his mind. Tortuously, their kiss was restricted to his mind and boundless imagination until they could retire upstairs for the night.
So he stood at her side attempting propriety. He sipped his whiskey, stealing subtle glances of the slope of her neck, wishing to indulge the path his eyes took with devoted kisses. In his haze, he only somewhat registered her modest replies to those who expressed their appreciation for her hard work on the bazaar. He was distracted by the curls that had come loose from her hair after her long day. It was only when Cora craned her neck and looked at him expectantly that he realized Tom was speaking to him.
Tom smirked knowingly.
"You're tired, darling. Tom asked if America treated you well."
"Oh. Oh! Well, yes. Aside from prohibition, America has only ever treated me favourably," his hand descended, his fingers tugging the fabric concealing the fleshier skin at the jut of her hip. Only Robert saw her simper as she cast her eyes down at his fingers, where they were shamelessly but playfully plucking at her dress.
"I'm glad. It's great to have you back," Tom said before walking back to the drink table.
She met his eyes, "Yes, it certainly is. I think you've had enough for now, however. Wouldn't you say?"
She took his tumbler, replacing it with her free hand, her thumb mirroring the patterns he made over her dress into the back of his hand. He was inching dangerously close to her hip bone. She shivered.
"Perhaps you're right, dear. It may be wise after a long period of abstinence to pace myself. I better tread," his hand gripped greedily at her behind as he finished, "carefully."
She gulped and said nothing when he reached down, taking the glass from her hold, followed by a greedy swig. He unsuccessfully hid the blush on his cheeks. The burning sensation he felt was not just from the drink. Cora took his drink again, this time emptying the remaining, sizable sip. He watched as she relished the biting taste of the whiskey; licking her lips.
"Mmm," she moaned as the taste dissipated. The weight bellow her belly, however, did not. He knew pacing himself was out of the question when she murmured, "Then again, this is good. If you've missed it, perhaps denying yourself wouldn't be sensible."
"How much I've missed you," he emphasized, "is not sensible." He kissed her cheek. Once. Twice. Oh, then her along her jaw. "Darling..."
"Robert," she suppressed her giggle and gripped her hands around his forearm. She met his eyes, darkened and earnest. She missed him. She couldn't be sensible either.
"Yes, Cora?"
"Can I can tell you how many times I've imagined this scene? Upstairs?"