Happy New Year, everyone! Best wishes to you all. Have a wonderful 2015.

Here we go, the next chapter. This one does push the story into an "M" rating (the overall story has been updated to reflect that). Although I think it's important to the development of the characters, if something that's a little more explicit isn't your thing, please skip forward and make sure you read the last section of this chapter before going on. If things that are explicit are your thing... well, enjoy. :)

Once again, thanks for all of your support! - Ana

Regina had never had a serious relationship before Daniel.

By some standards, she was a bit of a late bloomer. She had dated, appreciated many late nights of lying in bed with another, hands wandering, exploring. But never really had any relationship that was overly serious until she was well into her sophomore year of university. Even then, she was hesitant to go anywhere with it, perhaps in part because of her conservative upbringing, and after a while she and that first semi-serious boyfriend had become frustrated with one other (he because she wouldn't move fast enough, she because she resented feeling pressure), and they broke up. So it took until she was with Daniel before she finally felt comfortable enough to become intimate with someone.

She had fallen for him in Paris. And that was also the first time she had had sex.

They had gone back to the flat that she'd shared with her roommate during her study abroad program - her roommate had been out that night, mercifully - and they'd started things innocently enough, but by the end of the evening, things had gotten… serious.

It was awkward and clumsy, but at the same time lovely. Absolutely nothing you would ever see in a romantic film, no candles or swelling music or dim lighting… at once incredibly basic, punctuated with sloppy kisses and talking and smiles and reassuring hugs, making sure her elbow was here, her legs there, shifting so that (the slightly more experienced) Daniel didn't crush her at all as he was on top of her.

It was no perfect sexual experience, but it was not bad, either… it was what it was. Sweet and romantic, innocent and simple. It was real.

Of course, they got better at it, eventually.

..•..

"Will you let me make you breakfast?"

Regina was sitting on the small couch in Robin's living room, clasping a bracelet back on her wrist that had fallen off the night before and studying the screen of her phone.

She looked up, smiled, and tucked her hair behind her ears.

"You're awake," she said, before finishing noting something down on her phone.

"I am. Sorry I slept so late… but you wore me out last night, darling," he said, moving towards her with a mischievous smile, leaning forward to kiss her on her forehead.

She paused, stopped typing on her phone, and bit her lip. "I wore you out? I don't think that's very fair," she teased, looking up at him with wide, sparkling eyes. "You seemed like a more-than-enthusiastic participant."

He simply looked her up and down. "You're dressed," he remarked, not hiding the disappointment in his voice.

"I wasn't sure… if you had to work. I didn't want to be in your way, in case you didn't want me lingering, or…" Regina stammered, dropping her eyes.

Robin stretched lazily, and reached over to her, running his fingers gently along her neck, tracing her jawline with the back of one hand.

"Not a chance," he said, urging her to stand up, then resting his hands on her waist.

She relaxed her shoulders, allowed him to pull her closer.

"Stay with me, for a little while longer," he said, his forehead resting against hers.

He kissed her on the nose, and she smiled. "Fine."

"Let me make you breakfast… and by that I mean I will be running to the patisserie down the street and buying some croissants. But I can put some coffee on before I go," he offered.

Regina nodded, setting her phone down and placing her hands on her hips, watching him wander into the kitchen and appreciating the view of his back side.

As he moved around, preparing the coffee, he instructed her to wait for him so they could eat something and have a proper morning together.

"I'll stop getting ready," she assured him, laughing lightly, but reaching for her phone again. "I just have to check my messages, make sure there's nothing from Henry."

After getting the coffee underway, Robin moved towards the door. He took his jacket and stuffed his wallet into his pocket, and after an "I'll be right back," he left.

While he went to the pastry shop, Regina scrolled through her emails on her phone. Nothing of any particular urgency, nothing from Emma or Henry. She'd have to go home this morning, but… she could spare an hour with Robin.

As she finished typing notes on her phone - which was an idea for a new feature for the blog, something she could pitch to her editor about finding love in Paris (how romantic, she thought to herself, she was growing soft) - she relaxed into the sofa, which smelled new. She wondered if Robin had recently bought it, or if it was someone else's and he'd just borrowed it. (If so, she hoped he'd "borrowed" it legitimately).

Last night, Robin had explained to her that he'd finally rented an apartment. He felt like settling in, after months of indecision about whether or not he wanted to stay in Paris. Roland, of course, was a motivating factor to make things here more permanent.

But because of the way he'd been looking at her pointedly as he told her that, she wondered what else was on his mind. What else he wanted to make permanent.

..•..

When they had arrived at his apartment the night before, it was dark, very late, but they had both been buzzing with raw nerves, excitement, arousal.

Robin was well into his thirties, Regina just around thirty. But somehow, both of them had sensed that the other was not perfectly used to bringing someone else home. Sure, they were both adults. They'd had trysts. Obviously. But beforehand, both had indicated to the other that it had… been a while. And it showed, in the way that they were polite, and even tentative, with one another, after stepping into the small apartment. Robin offered her a drink, which Regina refused - then changed her mind and asked for water. He brought two glasses, one for both of them, and set them on a small wooden table at the end of the couch.

Regina then decided it wouldn't be the worst idea to visit the washroom, just to take a moment. To breathe, to splash water on her face (it was humid that night, and she felt that the makeup she'd applied earlier had been a little too liberal for the increasingly warm nights in the city). After she rinsed her face with a bar of soap that she found on the edge of the creamy white bathtub (it smelled tangy and woodsy, like juniper and cedar), she took a moment in the bathroom just to stare at her reflection in the mirror.

She remembered a similar night, several years ago when she was in her mid-twenties, when she'd gone to Jefferson's apartment for the first time. They had been dating for a little while, a month maybe, and the time had finally come when he invited her over. They'd had dinner, and she needed a moment after her long day of work, then their hours-long dinner and after-dinner coffee at a restaurant, to freshen up. Jefferson had been the first man she'd ever been with following Daniel, and just before facing him that night, she'd felt like she was embarking upon her sexual awakening all over again. Sure, she'd had plenty of experience with Daniel… but until that very moment in his unfamiliar apartment, she had underestimated what a strange feeling it would be to be on the cusp of a night with someone completely different.

Indeed, different had been the key word with Jefferson. Even on dates early on during their time together, he had been so far removed from Daniel's charming, sweet, wholesome self. Jefferson had been erratic, telling silly jokes, debating politics one second and talking about cartoons the next, asking her to join him on impromptu road trips and taking her on dates to places as diverse as the carnival one week, the theatre or a ballet the next. What if he were completely different in bed as well? What if he liked… different things? Things she didn't know. Or somehow it just… maybe he wouldn't enjoy her, the way Daniel had? Or … perhaps, she wouldn't enjoy him, and it would be disappointing and then… then…

Then what? She'd asked herself, narrowing her eyes. So what if it was going to be awful. She'd move on. She'd live. One more life experience.

She finally left the bathroom (and her nerves) behind, and was relieved to discover that Jefferson, as unique as he was at work, and even on their dates, was the perfect calm, comfortable gentleman in the bedroom. Suave, even… yes, suave. That's how she'd describe it. They instantly were at ease with each other that night, melting into something at once sophisticated but comfortable. Not quite the carefree, youthful way she'd experienced sex with Daniel when she was with him, but with Jefferson, she gradually learned they were both more seasoned and confident, and eventually, braver.

They'd had fun. They got urgent, and messy, tangling sheets and pillows ending up all over the floor. Over time, before their romance had died out, they found they liked to watch each other, in the throes of passion, keeping their eyes wide open, Jefferson watching her breasts bounce as he thrust into her, then Regina perched on top of him, studying his face as it contorted with pleasure as she rode him. She'd discovered that she liked new things, new positions, new ways of experiencing pleasure; Jefferson would tease her for ages, forcing her pleasure to move towards the edge but not quite tumble over until she was writhing in the agony of the sensations that he coaxed out of her, pleading with him to let her go. But to Regina's great relief, the foundation of it all - every night and every morning, on the fringes of the nighttime madness - had been a space where they were both comfortable, and polite, and nice.

..•..

This time, Regina wasn't nervous. She finished up in the bathroom: she rinsed her face, adjusted her hair and the straps of her dress in the mirror, checked that her cleavage was peeking temptingly up over the neckline of her dress (she assumed the dress would be off soon enough, but it didn't hurt to make sure it looked as appealing as possible now).

She wanted Robin. She had for weeks.

It was with all of that confidence, then, that Regina strode over to Robin, who waited by the window, gazing absently out into the deep night in the city, and pressed herself against him.

Their kisses were filled with urgency, and this time, in the privacy of his apartment, they allowed their hands to wander freely, exploring each other. Robin traced the curve of the side of her torso, then down to her thigh, back up again, passing his hand into the small of her back to ease her closer to him. Meanwhile, she allowed her hands to appreciate his biceps, solid through the sleeves of his thin sweater, then they roamed lower, and she could feel the tight strain of his ass.

Minutes later they found themselves on the couch and he gradually began to move his hands higher, higher up her thigh, behind the fabric of her dress… as he did so, she playfully tugged off his sweater, smiling (giggling, even?) ever so slightly as it briefly got caught on her bracelet, which she quickly unclasped and set on the table nearby.

There was more kissing, more exploring. Still fully clothed, Robin was on his back, and Regina was on top. She gently positioned herself on top of him, then, and as they continued to kiss, his hands weaving through her hair, she felt him, gradually growing semi-hard, underneath her.

Her eyes were soft, half-closed, as she enjoyed the sensation. There was only the dim light cast from the street outside, and one small light filtering in from the kitchen that he'd clicked on when they'd arrived. In the darkness, he murmured into her ear. "I want to see you without this dress."

"But I want to look at you, too," she countered, her voice heavy with lust, and moving into action, she wrapped her arms around his back and urged him to move up, slightly. He did, curving his torso, and she gently eased his plain t-shirt off, revealing his toned chest.

"Fair's fair," he murmured in a low voice. "Now you." He reached behind her and found a tiny zipper and quickly pulled it down all the way. He then fumbled a bit with her dress - it had gone slightly askew, and it would be hard to coax off. She stood up, and he sat up attentively, gaze not leaving her. She allowed the dress to slip down her frame and drop to the floor, landing with a soft pat and the sound of the zipper rattling slightly as it skidded on the hardwood floor.

He was siting up now, and she straddled his lap, kissing him again on the lips. As they sank into another deep kiss, she reached back and unsnapped the clasp of her bra. She let that fall down one arm, then she shook it off.

Robin paused long enough to admire the smooth, creamy skin she'd revealed for him. His expression grew serious as he took one nipple in his mouth, gently between his teeth, and his tongue danced along it for a moment. Then, another. Regina allowed her head to fall back, reveling in the sensation, a lusty moan of approval escaping her lips.

"Lie on your back," he instructed a few moments later, and she obliged him, as he gingerly repositioned her so she was underneath him now. He took a moment to remove his pants, then underwear, and she did the same with her remaining undergarment, their final pieces of clothes getting lost somewhere on the dark floor. He then gently eased himself over her, continued to kiss her, deep kisses filled with promise, while his hands wandered further and further down, towards the deep longing that was slowly growing unbearable.

The angle he'd arranged her in forced her to relax and enjoy the sensations as one finger, then two, slipped into her depths where she'd grown wet. She only had a moment to wonder if she was being too selfish, whether he wished she were doing something for him, before he slipped a third finger into her, and all thoughts escaped her as she was lost in the sensations of him coaxing out the most delicious sensations. She allowed the feelings to wash over her for a few moments, but before she knew it, his fingers were replaced with him, filling her slowly, and she relaxed when she saw the unadulterated pleasure on his face as he softly gazed down at her, first focusing on her face, but then her breasts as they moved with his gentle, easy thrusts.

The two of them stayed like that for several minutes, moving slowly, savoring each other, every once in a while their eyes meeting, but not saying a word. Fingers wound through hair, eyes searched one another, faces betrayed when the perfect sensation flowed through their bodies, or as stray fingers touched overly sensitive, fiery skin that was blooming with sweat.

After a while, they shifted. The friction on Regina's clit and the feeling as he thrust into her, deep inside, had been rewarding her with building pressure. Regina eventually urged him onto his back and then perched on top of him, enjoying the sensations as she leaned back, and forward, and then back again, finding the sweet spots, the ones that made her get lost in everything, then popping open her eyes and urging his hands to explore her breasts, leaning forward so his teeth and tongue could as well, enjoying the expressions on his face as he, too, reacted to the sensations of being buried deep within her.

They relished in the time together as long as they could, but eventually their movements became more frantic, more purposeful. At one point, the rhythm was perfect for Regina and she could no longer hold off any longer… a burst of pleasure coursed through her, filling her with warmth from head to toe, leaving her breathless. He followed suit a minute or two later, breathing heavily, relishing the moment.

Afterwards, they were silent for a few minutes, both lying on their back, staring at the dark ceiling. Then, Regina smiled, and reached out, took his hand, and squeezed it.

He squeezed back.

..•..

Regina was glad she hadn't rushed off the next morning. The pastries were excellent. As was the coffee, for that matter. They ate their small breakfast happily, chatting about the day ahead. Their time that morning felt comfortable and surprisingly domestic.

"What time do you have to get back home?" Robin asked finally, after they'd chatted about silly things from their favorite pastries to comparing morning rituals (Regina's was brushing her teeth after drinking her coffee; for Robin, it was taking a walk in the early morning sunlight, although he admitted he didn't always do that as he was prone to sleeping a bit late).

"I have an interview this afternoon, I have to meet someone downtown at two," she said with a sigh. "And of course, I need to get back to Henry."

Robin glanced up at the clock. "It's not even nine yet. If -" he reached for her hand, and kissed the back of it, then turned it around, and kissed her wrist, looking up at her with mischievous eyes "- you can stay just a bit longer, I will make sure that at you are very well rested and prepared to face the rest of your day."

"Oh, how chivalrous of you to make sure that I am well rested…" she answered skeptically.

"…and relaxed…" he muttered as his kisses trailed from her wrist up to the sensitive inner part of her arm.

"Right, your intention is merely to ensure that I am well relaxed…" she repeated softly, her breath quickening as she became distracted by his movements, her body responded to the feeling of his lips on her skin.

"It won't take long. Or it could, if you want. I can be very accommodating," Robin muttered, continuing to kiss sensitive skin.

Regina swallowed. "Luckily for you, I am still a little sleepy."

Robin stopped his kisses, stood up and took her hand, pulling her up with him. "Then off to bed with you, darling."

..•..

It was hard to focus after she emerged from Robin's apartment an hour and a half later. She was lost in a bit of a haze, her memories of the night (and the morning) threatening to overtake her thoughts, which needed to focus back on work.

As she walked down the corridors underground to the metro, her legs still the slightest bit wobbly, her mind a little bit fuzzy, she willed herself to focus. She needed to get home, to change, and to talk to Emma and make sure everything had gone well with Henry last night and that he had gotten off to school okay. Then, she needed to hop on the metro again, for her interview with the politician for the fashion profile feature. She was supposed to meet her at her offices at two.

Hours later, after a whirlwind trip home, a talk with Emma, then another ride into a different part of the city on the metro, Regina found herself in an elegant waiting room to meet Madame Vallin. When the woman emerged from a hall and introduced herself, Regina admired how she was impeccably dressed in a relatively plain black pants and blazer, a cream-colored blouse that contrasted with her honey-brown skin, several delicate gold necklaces layered at her throat, and her long brown hair falling in shiny waves over her shoulders.

"Hello, Madame Vallin?" Regina said, standing up to greet her warmly.

"Please, call me Marion," the woman said to Regina in heavily-accented English, sticking out her hand. "Follow me, there is a small salon that we can talk in," she said, guiding Regina into a room with deep wood panelling and fresh-cut flowers arranged in a blue vase.

Although the article was focused on fashion, Regina began asking her about her work, her laws that sought to help women and children (some of her top issues), like longer maternity leaves for women or laws that helped families who wanted to immigrate to France. Their discussion led from one thing to the next, conversation flowing easily as the two professional women talked and compared notes.

They got along splendidly, speaking a mixture of French and English (Marion spoke English quite well, Regina discovered), and the time flew. Regina had said she would not take more than a half hour for her interview, so at the thirty minute point she thanked her for her time, and the two shook hands warmly.

As Regina left the imposing building and walked in the warm afternoon sun to the metro a few blocks away, Robin still fresh on her mind from that morning, she thought of how Roland's mother was named Marion and she wondered if she would ever meet her.