This chapter definitely reaches M rating, so avoid if it may offend. Otherwise, enjoy. (And I've changed the rating to accommodate this chapter.)

Ruth demonstrates quite a level of boldness – for her, at least – in this chapter, so I hope that it is even mildly believable. When I questioned it myself, I thought it was worth having her take this leap.

oOo

They lay close together on the bed, both still fully clothed. His arms were around her, her cheek lay in the cleft between his shoulder and chest, and her right hand rested on his chest. Under her fingers through his shirt she could feel the strong beating of his heart. She inched even closer to him, wanting to be fully part of him. His body heat, his nearness was at once comforting and arousing. Ruth drank in his masculine smell, tinged with his cologne. She could think of nowhere else on earth she'd rather be. She gradually noticed a slight discomfort where her hip rested against him. There was a hardness there which had nothing to do with any arousal he may have been experiencing.

"At the risk if sounding clichéd, Harry," she said, "is that a gun in your pocket, or are you -"

"I'm just pleased to see you, Ruth," he replied. She could hear the smile in his voice.

He suddenly leaned away from her, and stuffed his hand in the trouser pocket nearest her. She heard the metallic jangling of the keys before he held them out in front of her. "I forgot to tell you about these," he said. "They're the keys to the cottage in Kent. Towers wants us to look at it in the next few days, and hopefully make a decision about it as soon as we can."

Ruth grasped the tag attached to the keyring and read the address. "I've never heard of Lower Beecham. Strange name. I'll bet there's no Upper Beecham."

"No doubt," Harry replied, placing the keys on the bedside table. "I'm told it's more of a hamlet than a village." He waited for Ruth's comment, but none came. "If we like it, then when the renovations are finished," he continued, "we can take possession, and furnish it to our tastes."

"That sounds fine, Harry."

"Is that all?" he asked, trying to catch her eye. "I thought women loved decorating and furnishing."

"I do, but it's not something I'm really passionate about. I'm not one of those turbo-charged decorators. I like to do it slowly, as the mood takes me, and I think it's important that we purchase furniture and furnishings together. It's our cottage, Harry, so you need to have to have a say in how we furnish it."

"No grey, I suppose."

"Oh no, I quite like grey."

"Just not on a duvet," he said.

"Grey on a duvet is fine, so long as it's not the only colour in the room."

"OK, then. I think I understand."

"Harry, for a man who always dresses as well as you do, you appear to be clueless about soft furnishings."

"I'm beginning to see that. Maybe it's the `Y' chromosome which interferes with understanding the decorating process."

"Then how do you explain Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen?"

"You have a point there, Ruth."

They lay close together, not talking, for some time. It was a peaceful silence which neither wanted to break. Ruth was aware that Harry was keen for them to make love. Since before dinner he'd shown signs of need. She couldn't describe it in any way other than that. He'd looked across the table at her with longing in his eyes, and there was a deep sadness which came off him in waves. But she could feel his need, his wanting of her through his body. She could also feel his steely self-control, something with which she was familiar in relation to him. He was holding himself in check so much that his body almost vibrated with the effort. Since they had been spending so much time together after she'd been rescued from Bristol, she could witness at first hand how patient Harry was, how prepared he was to wait. If he was waiting for her to make the first move, then she'd better get on with it.

"Harry," she began, "do you want to sleep now, or …...?" Bold as she had become, articulating the words for sex still left her tongue-tied.

"I'd quite like the `or', thanks, Ruth," he said quietly, turning to look at her. "If you're ready to take that step."

"I think I'm ready for that," she replied.

"So, you're not gagging for it, then?"

"What does that even mean?"

"I'm not sure, either. I think, put in words of plain English, it means: Are you not currently overwhelmed by paroxysms of desire for this broken body of mine?" Ruth was worried that he might be making fun of her. Harry's strange sense of humour still left her befuddled until she managed to get beneath the teasing to the real intent of his words.

"I always want you, Harry. I have always wanted you. Today is no different from yesterday, or the day before that, or this time last year, or this time two years ago."

"So why did you turn down my offer of marriage?" Ruth thought she had probably asked for that. He had spoken the words very carefully and quietly, but the resonance of his voice still sent shivers through her. "If you'd been able to run from me that day, you would have."

"I – it's hard for me to explain. I think that it was because you were so blunt about it. You gave me no warning of what you were about to say."

"I wasn't aware a marriage proposal required a warning."

"You could have kissed me, or told me how you felt about me …... set the mood. That proposal came out of nowhere, and I just wasn't …... prepared for it... Harry, it was a funeral!"

"So that led you to saying no."

"Yes. It wasn't because I didn't love you."

"Ruth, look at me." Harry's fingers were on her cheek, turning her face towards his. "How I felt about you then is how I feel about you now. And this -" he put his lips against hers, softly and tenderly kissing her, "is the way I should have kissed you that day. I wish I had."

"And?"

"And I was an idiot for not telling you how I felt about you, but I thought you already knew." He looked at her with his eyes embracing her, his pupils dilated. "Are you ready to take this another step further, because if you're not, I can wait. I've waited years for you. I love you, I long for you. I thought you could always read that in my face."

As an answer, Ruth grasped his face in both her hands and kissed him, her lips already parting. They both lay back on the pillows, their lips and tongues exploring the other. Ruth felt years of fear and misgiving about her attractiveness – or otherwise - drop away as her body responded under his lips, tongue and fingers.

They began by running their hands over the other. Their touch was light, the tips of fingers touching shoulders, chests, breasts, stomachs, thighs, approaching more sensitive areas, then pulling back. Harry took one of her hands in both his, and he kissed each of her fingers with a feather-light touch, his eyes holding hers. Ruth held his eyes with her own, thankful – even joyous – that this beautiful man still loved her, despite her having held him at arm's length for so long.

He then undid the buttons of her shirt, while at the same time she unbuckled his belt, released his trouser buttons, slid down the zip, and began to peel his pants from his body.

"Steady, Ruth," he said quietly, his mouth close to her ear, "we have all night. There are no prizes for finishing first."

So, as slowly as they could, they undressed, until they each lay naked on top of the new blue-grey duvet. Each gazed at the other in wonder and admiration. Ruth ran a finger along Harry's body, from his waist, over his hip, and then down his outer thigh, feeling his skin shiver under her touch. She drew her finger back only when she felt his fingertips on her stabbing scar.

"Your scar, Ruth, it's hardly visible. How can that be?"

"We were told that the Genesis 1197 raised the metabolism to such a degree that healing was hastened."

"Now, that sounds like a better use of that drug."

"I thought so too," she answered, her insides melting at the touch of his fingers on her abdomen.

"Let's get underneath the duvet," he said, "so we can cuddle."

He put his arms around her, and she linked her arms around his waist, and under the new duvet they cuddled. It felt wonderful, it felt warm, and it felt safe. Bare skin against bare skin, they lay together. Harry had been playing with one of her nipples, his fingertips circling, then sliding over the tip. He then pulled back to give himself room, and reached down so that he took her other nipple in his mouth. He drew it between his teeth, then circled it with his tongue. Fighting the inevitable response of her body, Ruth pulled away slightly, so that her nipple sprang from his lips. He looked up at her, surprise on his face.

"I really need to do something," she said, "before we get too far into this." She looked at Harry a little nervously. "Do you trust me?" she asked.

He nodded. "Of course I do," he replied, his voice thick and deep with arousal. "I'm lying naked under a duvet with you. I should bloody hope that sufficiently demonstrates how much I trust you. What do you have in mind?"

"I want to look at you."

He looked hard at her, and then feeling her fingers touch him, and softly groaning his response, he put two and two together. "You mean you want to inspect my penis. Feel free, Ruth, but just go easy. That's quite sensitive equipment, and it's more sensitive in your hands than any others."

She smiled coyly up at him, then pulled back the duvet so that the bedside lamp cast a dim light on the object of her study. She then began a closer inspection, running her fingers gently over the surface of his shaft, and then down over his balls, which she cupped in her hand before moving back up to his penis. He watched, his breathing heavy, as she pulled the foreskin back, and then forward. He had a moment of real concern when she bent her head and ran her tongue lightly over the tip. Harry gasped, and then grasped her shoulders and lifted her away.

"Your tongue is exquisite, Ruth, but you don't know how that affects me. It excites me a little too much, too soon."

She turned to look at him, her eyes shining. "It's beautiful," she said, her voice conveying wonder, appreciation and even love. "It's without doubt the most perfect penis I've ever seen."

Harry drew her up to lie next to him, holding inside himself how moved he is by her actions. He knows that what she has just done has meant her having to put aside all her fears and embarrassment related to sex, and that for her this has required a quantum leap in faith and trust – in herself, as well as in him. He has never loved her more than he does at this moment. "And how many penises have you inspected in that way?" he teased.

"I've never felt safe enough to do that with anyone else, Harry. The truth is, I've never even wanted to do that with anyone else. Thank you for letting me."

He gathered her in his arms and kissed her deeply. They sank into one another, a tangle of arms, legs, feet and writhing torsos. Harry's mouth moved from her mouth to her eyes, her ear, her neck and then to her breasts. His lips and tongue aroused her senses like no other man had ever done. His fingertips caressed her skin lovingly, sending spasms through her whole body. After a while, she felt his fingers graze across her abdomen, and then lower, until they were inside her, massaging her sweet spot. Her nipples were erect, grazing against his chest, and against her inner thigh she felt his erection, sliding back and forth against her skin. She had no resistance left. She succumbed to her orgasm with an abandon of which she had not known herself capable.

When she at last landed back on earth, she felt Harry watching her. He was running his fingers through her hair, and watching her with a slight smile on his lips. When she was able to bring her eyes back into focus, he leant down and kissed her, long and deeply. When he pulled away from the kiss he lifted himself above her, placing his weight on his elbows either side of her, while his lower body rested between her thighs. She felt the tip of his erection at her entrance, so she lifted her buttocks to meet him. He pulled back and waited until she spoke.

"Harry, you tease. Come on," she said.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice hoarse, his pupils fully dilated.

"I think I now know what is meant by `gagging for it', and I am."

She again felt him at her entrance, and this time he slid inside her, slowly, gradually, fitting her perfectly. Where had this man learned this degree of self-control? Ruth realised that her own control of self was almost non-existent compared with his. He made love to her gently and slowly, almost as though she were too delicate for him to fully let go and thrust into as other men had. Harry was almost incapable of speech, his breathing heavy and in time with his strokes, but when he looked into her eyes, the love he conveyed was almost too much for her – but not quite. She felt her insides contract as another orgasm built inside her.

"Let go, Ruth," he breathed, his lips next to her ear.

And she did. Her release was wild and without any thought for how she may appear to her partner. She bucked against him, and he – to his credit, skill and eminent self-control – stayed with her, his mouth next to her ear, his words soothing and loving. How had she deserved this kind of loving? Her inside walls were still in contraction when she felt him come inside her, his release complete, a series of groans escaping his lips, ending with an "Ohhh, Ruth!" as he thrust as deeply as he could.

They lay together. He was still inside her, and his body had fallen on top of her after he came. He was heavy, but not uncomfortably so. So long as he didn't fall asleep, she could handle his weight on her. Eventually he became aware of the situation they were both in.

"God, Ruth," he said, "sorry. I lost track of …... everything." He lifted himself slowly, his body disengaging from hers. She contracted her pelvis around him as he withdrew completely. "Why didn't you tell me?" he added.

"What? That you were lying on top of me?"

By this time he had sunk on to the bed beside her with a deep sigh. "No, darling. Why hadn't you told me you were so good in bed?"

"But Harry, I've never been good in bed. Apart from with George, but that was only when I fantasised about George being you."

Harry chuckled quietly, grasping her hand and lifting it to his lips. "I hope you can see the common factor here, Ruth."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let me spell it out for you. You have been good – no, amazing – in bed with two men only. Am I right?"

She nodded, not sure where he was heading with this.

"One man is me, and the other was someone you could only be amazing with when you imagined him to be me. I hate to state the obvious, but perhaps the man you need to make love to in order to be fantastic in bed is – "

"You, Harry."

"Yes, me. Which then begs the question – why have we taken all this time to get to this ... this place in our relationship? We could have been doing this years ago."

Ruth knew he was right. She had no answer for him. She knew she'd been the one to hold back, to be fearful about being with him, to run away from him on so many occasions. She could feel her familiar companion – guilt – rise up from where she kept it bottled away, deep inside her.

"Ruth," Harry coaxed, "say something." He turned to look at her, and saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Hey, hey," he said. "What's this?" He brushed his fingers across her cheeks to remove the tears, but that only left room for more to take their place. With that, he turned to face her, folding her in his arms. He crooned her name softly, while she let the tears spill from her. "What's this about? I was hoping you'd be happy, darling, not like this." he said at last, his voice gentle.

"I am happy - mostly. You were …... wonderful. You'll only think I'm being ridiculous."

"So try me," he replied.

"I'd had no idea I was any good in bed. I've always believed what the men I'd slept with had told me. One even said I was frigid. Now I know that's not true, and I wish I'd given us a chance all those years ago. We may even have been able to have children together. It was me who kept us apart."

"Ruth, you can't possibly carry all the guilt for us not having made it until now. It was the job we did as much as it was anything else. The job took so much of our time and energy, and I was reluctant at first to strike up a personal relationship with you, a junior officer. I wanted to – God, how I wanted to - but I had to be careful how I went about it." He leaned across to her and kissed her lightly. "Now, you must know that any man who accuses a woman of being frigid is most likely a dud in the bedroom. You, my darling, are the antithesis of frigid. You are hot... and let me tell you, Ruth, that this is the first time I've used that particular adjective in that context. A part of me wishes I was forty again, so that I could keep up with you, but you'll have to have me as I am. I also have this gnawing fear that you'll find some young stud who can get it up five times a night, and then you'll no longer be interested in me."

"Oh Harry, that's just not going to happen. It's you I love, and that won't change. I don't care that you can't perform all night. I enjoy my sleep as much as the next person, so long as it's you I'm sleeping with."

Eventually they talked themselves out, and just as they were settling to sleep, Harry's phone rang. He let it ring out, and then only a few minutes later it rang again. He got out of bed, cursing quietly, and found his phone in the pocket of his trousers. Ruth indulged herself in the uninterrupted view of Harry's naked back and buttocks. She had to hold herself back from leaping out of bed and running her hands down that back and to his firm cheeks. As he began to speak into his phone, she had to suppress thoughts of how he'd had to use the muscles in those buttocks to push himself into her. How I love that man, she thought, and I can't wait to feel him inside me again.

"Yes," he said, sounding more angry than he probably was. "Oh, hello Malcolm …... Yes ... No, you didn't interrupt anything. We were about to go to sleep ... Fine …... We'll be here... Yes …. You too …... I look forward to it. Goodbye." He turned off his phone before getting back into bed. He slid his arms around Ruth from behind her until his face was resting in her hair.

"That was Malcolm," Ruth said.

"Yes, he and Felicity are paying us a visit tomorrow."