Thank you so much everyone for putting up with another [albeit wholly unexpected] break. My daughter and I are both feeling much better now. And a happy belated mother's day to all those who celebrate.
FORTY-EIGHT
She stilled, overwhelmed for a moment by the simple press of his skin beneath her hand. That expanse of cool flesh against her palm ….
Hermione thought if she concentrated, her eyes closed as they were and Antonin himself so still before her, she could actually feel the faintest quivering through the muscles of his abdomen. Not the tremors of the previous nights, but the sort of tension held just under the surface of one who was careful and poised as they held themselves steady.
Opening her eyes, she found that sparkling ruby gaze in the darkness. She pressed her palm flat against his skin beneath the folds of his robes, stretching out her fingers along those muscled lines.
Had he learned to control his impulses so very quickly since last night, or was this something else she wondered? The calm before a beautiful, blissful storm?
She felt so strangely calm herself, so at peace with the moment, aware completely of the breath moving in her lungs. Of the weight of the little house's still air against her cheeks. Of his eyes never leaving hers.
Perhaps she should find out ….
She dragged her hand lower, trailing over his skin in long, teasing strokes, her other hand curling into his robes to pull him with her as she started a slow backpedal.
