Of course it's not a oneshot. Some people asked me to continue, so I did (as usual). Hope you like it.
She woke up next to him, both lying flat on their backs, her hand draped out at her side and lying across his midriff and trailing down towards his groin, her face turned to the side and buried against his arm. Neither of them was wearing a stitch of clothing, but her hair seemed to have fallen about every where, down over her own shoulders and onto his chest.
"Hello."
She started a little, not having realised that he was awake too, and then laughed at herself a little when she had calmed down. He smiled at her, and planted a single kiss on her forehead.
"How are you?" he asked her, turning onto his side and propping himself up of his elbow to watch her as she lay back down.
"Alright, actually," she replied, "What time is it?"
"Four o'clock in the morning."
"Really? But it's so light?"
"It's the way this room faces."
"Oh, yes. Ours faces the other way."
There was a silence at her acknowledgement of her real home, where she would usually be now, her other life.
"Do you wish you were there now?" he asked her softly, not at all accusingly but with a gentle intensity that let her know the matter was weighing on his mind.
She paused for a moment.
"No," she answered, "I don't wish I was. I may feel as if I ought to be there. But I don't wish I was," she turned her head and kissed him tenderly on the chest, just once, "I'm quite happy here."
He smiled at that. They lay quietly for a few minutes, him watching her all of the time.
"It's not healthy, you know," she told him.
"What isn't?" he asked.
"Your obsession with me," she replied, with a hint of a smile, but seriously nonetheless.
He laughed quietly and deeply.
"Didn't you realise before now?" he asked her.
"No," she told him bluntly, "I had no idea."
And it was true, she really hadn't. She didn't know how much he-... She swallowed hard and felt her heart increase in pace just thinking about it. All evening, all night, he hadn't stopped kissing her. He held her body close to his as they lay together, sated but at the same time still excited, in the bathtub, touched her with a tenderness which made her whimper, dried her body, carried her to his bed and made love to her again, with a passion she had not felt in years- which she wasn't sure she'd ever really felt. She had lost count of how many times he'd made her climax. She had cried at one point, begging him, begging him to help her escape from this delicious torture, begging him for more, begging him never to stop. All the time, he had drunk in the sight of her, adoring her with his eyes, in a way she knew she had never, never felt before. Nothing had ever been like this before.
She had never thought she would obsess a man like Paul, a man who had everything, who truly could have his pick of women, and more often than not did. She would never have believed it. But it seemed that it was true, if the way he was looking at her now was anything to go by.
"What?" she asked him, with a wry, contented smile.
"I was just thinking about something," he told her.
"What?" she pressed.
"I don't quite know how to as you," he admitted, "I'm not sure if this is the right time."
She snorted a little.
"If it's something you can't ask me now, I don't think you'll ever be able to ask me it."
He smiled, acknowledging that this was probably a fair point.
"I was wondering if you might see your way to coming back?" he asked her, "Or never leaving."
There was a silence. Her face was serious, watching his. He could tell he had surprised her, possibly moved her, and that she was thinking very hard. He smiled a little, trying to lighten her up a little.
"On the subject of my unhealthy obsession with you," he added, as something of an afterthought, and it worked, it did make her smile a little bit.
"Paul," she asked him after a moment, "Just tell me one thing. What would you want with me? I mean seriously, tell me. What would the luckiest man alive want with me, of all people?"
He watched her for a few seconds, not quite able to believe that she had said that. His smile grew a little incredulous.
"What's funny about that?" she asked him.
"Oh, Ann," he murmured, sinking down to lie flat beside her, at her level, his hand brushing her bare stomach carefully, "You don't realise, do you? As far as I'm concerned, the luckiest man alive is the one who's with you. That's why I want to be with you."
She stared back at him, not knowing what to say. He thought for a moment he saw tears in her eyes.
"Oh," she whispered after a moment, "Oh."
Their lips met in tender, passionate, careful kiss which lasted for minutes. She cupped his cheek tenderly, and rested her face beside his when they broke apart.
"Give me time, Paul," she asked, "Until everything is sorted with Martin, one way or another. Please just give me time."
"Of course," he murmured in reply, "However long you want. I'll wait for you until you tell me."
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