A quick update because I had time to write today and I also couldn't wait to post this chapter - these two are taking over my life!

I think you might enjoy this one – for a variety of reasons.

Chapter 16

Tuesday morning

She'd just finished brushing her teeth when her phone rang, it was still on the bedside table and she rushed through from the en-suite expecting a colleague to be informing her of illness, keenly aware of Anna still sleeping in the next room.

Instead it's Charles' face on the screen.

"What are you doing up at this time?"

"Couldn't sleep, what are you doing?"

"I'm just about to leave," she glances at the clock, 06:40. "You should still be asleep." She says softly.

"Don't go to work. Come spend the day in bed with me…"

He has a teasing to his voice she's not used to and she giggles at the suggestion, "We wouldn't do anything even if I did spend the day in bed with you. Remember…" She recalls Saturday night at Isobel's and how close they were to breaking their resolve. Then Sunday and their thwarted efforts to get their sex-life going again.

He huffs, "We can talk, and watch television. Do the crossword."

She's shoving things into her bag and finding her car keys, her phone in one hand slowing her movements. "Nice thought. Maybe Sunday…" She grabs her salad from the fridge. "I have to go."

"Don't hang up, let me talk to you as you drive."

Silly man, she thinks, but her smile comes unbidden. "Alright. Hang on whilst I lock up."

She sets the alarm and is in her car within minutes, linking the phone to the speaker. "Okay, I'm back."

"Missed you."

"You're soppy this morning," she laughs as she turns the wheel and pulls out of the car park. "But it's rather nice to start my day this way."

He thinks he'd like to start every day with her.

"Did you enjoy your talk last night?" She asks.

"It was fine, slow in places but fine. Not the best. Certainly not the worst. You should give one for us."

"I thought it was a boy's club thing."

"You could do it – I'd get you a special pass, as I know you"

"Lucky me."

"Maybe in the summer, when you're free."

"I could I guess, if you really want me to. I'd feel a little odd having you staring at me as I talk about 16th century politics knowing you've seen me naked."

He starts to count how many days it's been since he's seen her naked.

"Maybe as an anniversary treat." He says lowly.

"Anniversary?"

"The anniversary of our first date."

She laughs, "And that's what you want? I can't wait to find out what you want for your Birthday."

He laughs too, flopping against the pillows in his bed, "What did you do for your fiftieth – I never asked that… I can't believe I didn't ask you that."

"I suppose because you weren't aware I'd turned fifty and it would be slightly awkward to suddenly ask a customer such a thing." She pulls into the car park. "I have to go and get my morning coffee. Do you want to wait or say goodbye?"

"I'll wait."

She's gone for a few minutes and he spends the time flicking through the furniture catalogue – he needs bookshelves but he has no idea on dimensions or whether he should go for an interesting colour. He'll ask her.

"I'm back," she says, slamming her car door.

"So, what did you do?"

"What did I do when? I fetched coffee."

"No, for your fiftieth. A party?"

"Lord no."

"What then?"

"Nothing. I was at work. We had cake and tea leaves instead of tea bags."

"And at the weekend?"

"Anna and I went for lunch and shopped."

"You can't just do that for your 50th – it's a special birthday."

"I didn't want to be reminded of it, it was no big deal." She stares at the road ahead and he realises why it was no big deal – she was in the middle of a divorce.

"I'm taking you out," he finally said.

"I should hope so, the thought of going out on Saturday is the only thing keeping me going. I want to go and see the new version of Far From the Madding Crowd if you fancy the cinema."

"No. I'm taking you out somewhere special, somewhere expensive, and we'll dress up to the nines and celebrate your 50th."

"It was a year and a half ago."

"So. Are you turning down a fine meal?"

"You know I wouldn't do that, but I don't want you to waste your money on a birthday that's long passed."

"Ahh, no more excuses, I'm booking it, we're going. You just worry about what kind of shoes you're going to wear."

"Sweet talker." She finds she's sitting up straighter, smiling, energised despite the early hour. "So, where shall we go?"

"I'm thinking Van Zeller."

"Oh yes! It's wonderful there."

"I'll call as soon as they're open and try and get a reservation."

"I'm excited now, I feel very spoilt."

"Good. You deserve to."

She indicates to turn into the school car park; a little annoyed the journey has come to an end.

"I'm here," she says reluctantly. "That was nice, you're better company than the radio."

"Do you ever look at the clock and think bloody hell it's 07:10 and I'm at work?"

She chuckles, "Sometimes. But I'm used to it now. And I like how quiet it is this time in the morning."

"Come see me after work…?" He suggests.

"Anna and I are having a bad night before she goes back to Warwick tomorrow – pizza and rubbish television, it may or may not involve a Storage Wars or Real Housewives binge."

"Lord, I have no idea what either is."

"Come join us."

"I don't want to intrude..."

"Don't be silly, we'd love to have you there. It's Tuesday so we can get 2 for 1 on a Dominos."

"I often feel you're speaking another language."

She chuckles, "There'll be Maltesers too, no excuses, come over for half six."

"It's looking great," Thomas says as he wanders around the shop.

"Coming from you that's quite something."

Charles stands by the entrance looking around and yes, Thomas is right, it is looking good. Even at this stage, with no shelving or seating area, no desk – he's keeping his desk, he's polished the wood and thinks it will look grand in the corner.

"Has she seen it yet?"

"Elsie?"

"She is the one you've done it all for."

"I've done it for myself too," he insists with a huff. "And no not yet, when she came last weekend the builders were still here. I have a decent working shower at long last." He smiles, thinking about how pleased she'll be when she finally stays over.

"Just the smell of paint to get rid of now." Thomas points out.

"Oh, and the small matter of having the shelves fitted and arranging hundreds of books."

"Yes, and that." Thomas sucks on his cigarette.

"Don't smoke in here, it's bad for the books and it's bad for me. You should quit."

"Everything I do is bad, you should know that by now. So, when can I meet her, properly I mean?"

"We could have dinner one night I guess. She's pretty busy at the moment with work but maybe next week, I'll check."

"Thursday nights are best for me, as you well know." Thomas stubs his cigarette out on his saucer and Charles rolls his eyes. "You want to do something then, theatre, pub, something?"

"How come you're at a loose end?"

"No reason." He sits on an upturned crate, "I may have just ended a little something."

"Ended a little something as in…"

"As in I've been dumped, alright, first time since I was about fourteen. Dumped. Me!"

Charles smiles, he can't help but feel sorry for the guy. "Liked him too."

"Was this Jimmy? The guy you mentioned?"

Thomas nodded, "Sexy little bastard too. Gorgeous ass."

"I don't think I need to know anymore. Wasn't he about twenty-two?"

"Hey, I'm not old."

Charles reckons he must be at least forty.

"And he had the tightest…"

"Maybe we should go get a quick drink. I can't stay long; I'm joining Elsie and her daughter tonight. Maybe you can explain 'Real Housewives' to me."

"Totally love that show, they're all divas and bitches – love it!"

Charles wasn't entirely sure it would be his cup of tea.

Charles took both red and white wine and was greeted by Anna in sweatpants, a t-shirt and socks.

"Okay, I've chosen 'Mean Girls', that okay with you?" She asked as she opened the door and he stared at her dumbfounded.

"Are you already drunk?" He asked confused.

She giggled, "No, it's a movie. Hi, Charles."

"Er, hello, whatever movie is fine." He guessed he wouldn't be snuggling with Els during this one.

"Great." She disappeared back down the hall, sliding on the wooden floor in her socks, and into the lounge and he shut the door behind him and headed into the kitchen.

"Hi," Elsie greeted him, looking up from the blender.

"Hello," he leant over and kissed her. "Is Anna high? Did she take kid pills?"

"I think she's a bit de-mob happy, a mixture of nerves and excitement – last exam on Thursday – and maybe enjoying the last time in her life when she's still my little girl at school."

"I bought wine but… I see you're making something."

"Margaritas." She smiled mischievously. "Did you put your bag in my room?"

"What? I didn't realise I was staying."

"You can't get drunk on margaritas and drive home!"

"I didn't realise I'd be getting drunk on a Tuesday night."

"Well, maybe tipsy, one of us needs to be up for work tomorrow. Do you have a particular fancy for pizza toppings?"

"Erm, I can't say I eat it very often."

"I thought as much." She pours the margarita into glasses. "I'll order for you?"

"Please. So, I'm staying?"

"You don't have to. If you don't want to."

She's already sidling up to him, her hands moving over his chest.

"But with Anna here?"

She laughs, he suspects she's already had a margarita, "I said stay over, not make me forget my name."

"I have that power?" His arms are around her, swaying with her. "Do I have that power, I'd like to."

"I'm not going to answer that. So, are you sleeping over, sans pyjamas?"

"I guess I could drive home in the morning."

"Good." She kissed him again, "Let's order some food and have some fun."

They managed half of the movie before Anna set up the Monopoly board on the coffee table and they piled up cushions and sat on the floor to play.

"Come on Charles," Elsie complained, as they waited yet again for him to read through the rules. "It doesn't matter, we just play it this way."

"There are rules for a reason."

Anna and Elsie exchanged a pompous look.

"I saw that."

"It doesn't matter Charles, we won't fleece you." Anna said, popping two Maltesers at once into her mouth and sucking off the chocolate.

She threw another Malteser at Elsie, who caught it and popped it into her mouth. Feeling naughty Elsie took one from the tub and threw it at Charles – it hit him right in the forehead.

For a second nobody moved, then Anna smirked and she and Elsie dissolved into giggles, Anna flopping back on the floor as she laughed.

"We're out of Margarita," Elsie said.

"I think we need coffee, not alcohol." Charles folded up the rulebook. "You two are incorrigible." He picked up the Malteser and crunched it between his teeth.

"Can we play again now?" Anna asked from her position on the floor.

"Yes. And you can't do that thing with the bank."

She sat back up, "That's mean."

"Them's the rules kiddo, your turn."

Elsie leant back against the sofa and watched them squabble over the rules of what you could and could not do with money in the bank. This is what a family looks like, she thought, a mixture of happiness and uncertainty taking hold. There were few times they had evenings like this with Joe, mostly it was evenings with just Anna and herself, especially as she got older.

Not that he was a bad father, Anna adored him, especially aged six – Daddy could do no wrong as he spun her round and told her stories and called her Princess. He wasn't like Elsie's father, thank goodness, he showed affection, he praised and supported. His need to control was never over Anna…

"So, has mum asked you about attending this thing in June?"

"I thought it was July." Elsie said, tuning back in.

"June, June 19th. Can you make it Charles?"

"What is this?" He glanced at Elsie; worried he'd missed or forgotten something.

"I haven't asked him yet. I thought you might like to do it yourself."

"I will," she moved her monopoly piece a few spaces, handing the dice to Charles. "There's a thing at Uni, to celebrate the end of exams – before we all go home. A big dinner, speeches, that sort of thing. We'll get dressed up and basically have a party. Parents are invited. I thought you might like to come with Mum."

He opened his mouth to speak but found that just for a second his throat had closed up, he was glad Elsie was throwing the dice to cover his silence.

"I'd like that." He finally said.

Elsie moved her piece.

"Ha!" she said. "And that's Park Lane for me, if you will Miss Estate Agent." She counted out her cash and handed it across to Anna who reluctantly gave her the card for Park Lane before getting to her feet.

"I'm going to get a coke, anyone want anything?"

"Make some tea sweetheart."

"That's really sweet of her," Charles said as Anna left them alone.

"She wanted to do it, nothing to do with me." Elsie assured him, reaching across to touch his knee.

He had never really had a family before, not this kind, and it was overwhelming to find he had one now. A ready-made one.

"You okay?" She asked, shuffling across the carpet to get closer to him.

"Yeah, just," he breathed deeply. "It's really nice of her."

"I guess she must think you're a long term fixture." She kissed his mouth, "As do I."

Elsie was asleep on the couch by quarter past eleven, and Anna covered her with a blanket as they continued their game.

"You know, you didn't have to invite me." He said, reaching for the dice. "I'm guessing you don't get many tickets."

"I begged for a third."

Realisation hit him – her father.

"I'm not sure Dad will come, he might, but then again… Don't tell Mum but I spoke to him last week. He's split up with Sarah, his new wife; they've been living apart for a few weeks. I don't want Mum to know. I told him I don't want Mum to know."

"You think it will bother her?" He asked painfully, keenly aware of what it meant, that he was available, that he might want Elsie back… more to the point she might want him.

"Mum is happier than I've ever known her." Anna said honestly, the game forgotten. "And I mean 'ever', like in my entire life. I don't want him messing it up for her. He's my Dad, I love him, but he's bad for her. You're good for her."

He swallowed, "Thank you for that."

"You're welcome. So, let's hope he doesn't attend and if he does I've already fixed it that he goes on a table at the opposite side of a very big ballroom. And I'll warn him to stay away from her."

Anna shifts her attention to Elsie sleeping on the couch, blissfully unaware.

"Think we should put her to bed?"

"I guess so."

Anna prepares the bed as he lifts her up off the couch and carries her through to the bedroom, lying her in bed and letting Anna undress her as he goes back to tidy up.

He's washing the dishes when Anna returns; "I've set her alarm for the morning."

"Okay, good. I'll just finish these and go to bed."

"I'm going to watch television for a while." She says getting a glass of water. "Probably see you in the morning, unless you leave before I get up."

"You're going back tomorrow?"

"Yes. My train's just after eleven."

"I could drive you to the station, if that helps."

"It does, thanks a lot."

"You're welcome. Night Anna."

He uses Elsie's en-suite, lays his clothes out on the chair in her bedroom and slips into bed beside her. She turns almost instantly, her arms around him, her head on his chest and he cuddles her close.

I don't want this to end, he thinks.

"I love you," he whispers, kissing her hair. "Very, very much."

Saturday

As it happened he had to go to Sheffield that Saturday for a book fair, he went every year and didn't want to lose the good relationship he'd fostered over time. He booked the table for seven that night so wasn't too worried and he took the train to save time and to avoid worrying about getting stuck in traffic.

She spent most of the day pottering about the flat, tidying and cleaning – it was nice to be at the time of year when her exam classes had just about left and she could focus a little more on her own life and not marking papers.

Early afternoon she went into town and bought an entire new outfit especially for their date. It seemed an age since she'd bought herself anything new and she figured if she was re-celebrating her fiftieth birthday she may as well do it right.

She took a long bath, covered her entire body in expensive cream and put on the new black lace and silk underwear she'd purchased. She didn't expect they'd spend the night together, she was just hoping they would. It had been weeks now since they'd made the 'contract' and longer since they'd slept together (Dubai seemed so long ago) and she really felt that they'd reached that stage now where they could combine the emotional and physical sides of their relationship.

As she rolled stockings up her legs she hoped they were anyhow, otherwise this had all been a waste.

She took her time with her make-up, in doing her hair – leaving it down because she knew how he liked it that way – in selecting perfume and jewellery and finally stood in front of her bedroom mirror feeling quite confident that she looked passable. Maybe even good. Maybe even very good.

They'd arranged to meet there due to his trip and there was a taxi outside at 18:45 and she got to the restaurant bang on 19:00.

Unusually, she was there first but she was shown to their table and took the seat by the window.

Twenty minutes later she was still sitting there on her own. She knew the staff were starting to look at her in an odd way and she wondered if she'd got the wrong time. Maybe it was 19:30 and she'd been amazingly early.

She ordered wine to give her something to do and continuously refreshed her phone to check for messages.

19:35 and still no Charles. Now she was getting worried. He wouldn't stand her up, never. Certainly not when he'd gone to such trouble of arranging this and persuading her to go. So something must be wrong.

She rang his phone again and it still went to voicemail.

She'd have to leave, embarrassingly apologise to the staff, pay for her wine and leave and go straight to his shop (it was within walking distance) and find out what had happened.

19:43 and the restaurant door opens and in he walks. Dishevelled and red-faced from running and apologetic and she feels like crying because he's there and he's okay. But she stays in her seat, twists her mouth into a half-amused pout and taps her nails against her wine glass as he approaches her.

"I'm so, SO sorry." He says, hands open. "The train got delayed, some issue with the track, we were stuck in the middle of nowhere and I had no signal to call or text. I've been panicking for the past two hours." He placed his hands on the back of his chair and paused. "You look stunning."

Her face broke into a smile, "I should bloody well hope so."

She stood up and he came to kiss her cheek and hug her, "Darling, I'm so sorry."

"You're forgiven. Now sit down so we can eat, I'm starving and we have a tasting menu to get through."

Two hours later and they were both stuffed but happy. He was making her laugh recounting tales from the complainers on the train and the mediocre tea he'd had.

He leant back in his chair, his legs crossed and a glass of brandy dangling from his fingers, utterly relaxed. "So, I find myself giving up my seat to go in search of tea, knowing full well it probably won't be there when I return because some cretin won't have read the pre-booked sign."

She giggles at that alone; leaning forward to watch and listen to him, her elbows on the table, chin resting on them.

"And there's this older guy in front of me, and I mean much older, probably 99 or something. And we get to the front of the queue and he asks for, 'Two cheese and onion toasties please, no tomato on one.' And I'm mulling this over – why would you possibly have tomato on a cheese and onion toastie? As he then continues, 'And two cheese and tomato toasties, no tomato on one.' And my face must have been a picture…"

She's laughing so much she can't catch her breath.

He sniggers, trying to catch his breath to continue, "…must have been… because the young lad serving looks up at me and just starts to laugh, and I mean hysterically laugh, and the old man, bless him, he had no idea what was so funny."

"I'm using that in the staffroom on Monday," she says wiping her eyes.

He downs the rest of his brandy and leans forward in his chair, his hands on the table. "Would you like anything else Ms Hughes?"

"No. I feel suitably spoilt, thank you."

"You're very welcome. A better 50th celebration?" His eyes are twinkling with affection for her.

"A much better 50th celebration." She says softly, holding his gaze.

"So, I may have got you a gift too."

"Oh Charles, you needn't have. I hope it's something small."

"Something very small. Almost flat."

She narrows her eyes as she watches him open his jacket and take an envelope from his pocket. "There."

"A card," she opens it, he's made it himself on one of those websites and there's a picture of her laughing on the front and '50 and fabulously flirty' above it. She rolls her eyes at him, "I do not flirt. And where did you get that picture?"

"It's from our trip. You may have had a glass of wine or two."

"I have a double chin."

"You do not! Open the rest."

Inside is another envelope, which she leaves on the table, and the familiar curved flourish of Charles' handwriting is on the card, "Wish I'd been there to celebrate it properly. All my love, C, xx. Oh thank you honey, and what can this be?" She says picking up the other envelope.

He shrugs, "What do you think?"

"Book tokens?" she teases then says excitedly, "Spa vouchers?"

Instead, inside are plane tickets. Lake Garda, last week in July.

"Charles…" she breathes looking up at him.

"I've checked the dates, I rang your school reception to check your last day – can you believe that! And so I've booked it for the day after. We fly midday so should be there 24 hours after you break up for summer."

"Oh, my goodness." Her throat feels tight and she's aware her eyes are filling with tears. "Nobody's ever bought me such a thoughtful, generous gift."

"You're only 50 once. Besides, it's kind of a present for me too, one of my favourite places on earth. I did tell you my parents had a small place over there, a lodge?"

"Erm, I don't know," she shakes her head. "I can't remember you saying."

"I don't go very often, it's usually rented out, handled by a company there. I considered selling at one point but it makes good money for such a small let. I booked it months ago for us, before we even went to Dubai, before Christmas. I figured if you'd broken it off with me by then I'd go alone and mope."

She smiled warmly, her eyes clouded with tears. She reaches across for his hands, folding them both in hers, "Thank you so very much."

"You're welcome."

For a few moments they're quiet, wishing for the first time that evening they weren't in a posh restaurant.

"I'll pay the bill," he finally says, "we can have a walk for a while if you like, the evening's fine…" He suggests.

"Mmm, we could." She tiptoes her fingers across the palm of his hand, sliding her index finger delicately across his knuckles, "Come home with me." She says lowly, looking up at him bashfully through her eyelashes.

He leans closer, breathes deeply, "Why don't we have that walk in the general direction of my flat?"

"Why don't we..."

He expects that now, with the promise of making love after so many weeks without, they'd rush home. But their walk is leisurely and romantic; warm spring air, her hand in his, her head against his arm, the sight of her in that wonderful skirt.

At his shop he leads her down the alleyway to the backdoor and they take the stairs up to his flat, inside he thinks of asking if she wants coffee but she's taking her jacket off in the hallway and hanging it on his hat stand and he wants to cover her in kisses, worship her for endless hours. Damn coffee.

He comes up behind her and buries his face in her hair, his hands sliding down her arms and she leans back against him, silent, eyes closed. For a moment they stand like that, simply enjoying the sensation of warm, soft bodies and the fragrance of each other, of being alone at last.

Then she tilts her head slightly to the left, lifts it and nudges his chin with her nose and he moves his face down to meet her mouth in a soft, delicious kiss. Her hand comes up to his cheek, her fingertips tracing over his skin and he can feel her moving, her bottom swaying against his groin and the thrill of knowing what lies ahead is enchanting. No need to rush, they have all night for this, then all day. And he wants to love her properly. Thoroughly.

"Is your bedroom finished?" She whispers against his mouth and he thinks of saying something witty about christening a new bed but doesn't.

"Not quite, still the squeaky old bed."

She chuckles, "Oh, good."

He takes a step forward and she's in front of him so she moves too and they're walking in that funny, awkward way to his bedroom, with his arms around her waist and his chin on her shoulder and she's smiling so wonderfully.

It's dark in there, the light from the hall providing some illumination. His hands are on her bare arms as he watches her look around, his fingers tracing patterns up and down her skin. She can hear how his breathing has deepened, how he stands so patiently waiting for her. She takes a step forward, out of his embrace, and turns very slowly to face him, taking hold of the hem of her top and lifting it above her head. Pleased when she sees his eyes darken, the slightly sharp intake of breath – clearly the new bra was worth it.

She steps past him to put her top on the chair by the bed and then starts unbuttoning his shirt and he stands still, arms by his side, watching her with a half-amused, half-mad-with-desire expression. Once she has it off him she hangs that over the chair too before sliding her palms over his chest, his stomach, the pebbled nipples, the greying chest hair – as if re-familiarising herself with how he feels. He lets her, keeps his hands still by his side (though it's killing him not to touch the creamy white skin before him) and then she bends, dips her head forward and kisses where she thinks his heart is, then over his chest, a little nip of her teeth to his right nipple and up to his neck, covering him with her affection.

When she gets to his chin, and then his mouth, he's smiling at her endearingly. And she has this warm, slightly apprehensive expression.

"I've missed this. I've missed you," he says and she smiles, meeting his mouth in a kiss.

He lets his hands touch her now, sliding down her bare back, over the clasp of her bra, squeezing her bottom through her skirt and then back up.

She feels the material loosen around her breasts and smiles against his lips, didn't take him very long, before shedding her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Then he's worked down the zipper on her skirt and she feels it slipping down her hips. Breaking the kiss she moves slightly to wiggle it down, his arms are still around her, hands resting lightly on her lower back, and steps out of it. She feels his chest move against hers as he sees her – lace panties, stockings and still in her heels – he might die from want.

"You're so very beautiful," he whispers, kissing her nose, her forehead. "So very, very beautiful."

She slides her hands wide over his chest again, "So are you." Her hands make quick work of his belt buckle and in moments he's stepping out of his trousers and she can see exactly what she's doing to him as the tip of erection is peeking through his boxers as if striving to be free.

She presses her mouth to his and her hand to his penis and he moans wonderfully in her mouth. Grasping her tight now and turning her in his arms so she leans against the wall, palms flat against it as his mouth works over her back, her neck, and his hands cup her breasts. He moves down to his knees and starts to peel down her panties, kissing her all the time, every inch of skin he can, down her thighs, following the trail the material makes, breathing in the heady scent of her. She slips off her shoes, feels him remove her underwear before starting to slowly inch her stockings down, he takes his time with the delicate silk and she wonders how such big, strong hands can be so tender.

She feels cool air as he leans back, and can imagine him looking up at her, completely naked now with ruffled hair and her bottom sticking out and her legs slightly parted.

Then he's touching her again, sliding one hand up her leg, her thigh, and she's the one to moan as his fingers slide against her. She knows she must be unbelievably wet, she's so turned-on, and that thought is both embarrassing and thrilling.

She turns, leaning completely against the cool wall and looking down at him knelt in front of her, his face awash with desire and want, and his hand is on her ankle, stroking her skin before he lifts her foot and moves forward, dangling her leg over his shoulder and she throws her head back as his mouth touches her.

"Charles…" his name in one long drawn out breath, her fingers in his hair, she dares herself to look down and watch him do it, intensifying the moment.

When she's panting in pleasure and on the verge of a climax she stops him, pushing hard against his shoulders to cease his movements – she wants it to be with him inside her, not like this just yet.

He seems to understand and gets to his feet, kissing up her stomach, he feels her yank down his boxers and he's so glad of the relief it brings to feel her small hand wrap around his length.

She pushes him back to the bed and he slides back, moving to the pillows, squashing them behind him and she's crawling onto his lap, on her knees, hovering over him. His hands on her hips as they kiss and that wonderful tease of her body being just there, the heat of her just over the tip of his erection but not quite enough.

"Elspeth," he whispers against her lips, his hands coming to grasp her bottom, "Darling, Elspeth."

She rests her forehead against his, smiling so very lightly as her hips roll and there's that wonderful anticipation in her stomach as she reaches between them and guides him inside her and for long moments they stay like that, bathing in the joy of being together again.

It's been so many weeks.

When she moves her hips they groan in unison and she sets a slow, deep rhythm, rolling against him, not quite enough friction but enough to draw the moment out, to make it last.

She alternates, leaning back so he can kiss her breasts, forward so her hair is in his face and he holds onto her, letting her lead this. She wants to, she wants to have him feel as wanted as he makes her feel.

Resting her hands on his chest for support she alters the movement, rising up on him now, then back down until his head is tipped back and he's grinding her name out repetitively. She leans forward again, meeting his mouth in a hot kiss and he's pushing up inside her, so eager now, so close. "Do that again," he pleads, "with your hips."

She smiles, leaning back, rolling on him and her hair is falling down and his fingers tangle in it as they both feel the deep orgasm build and fill them.

"I love you!" he shouts between moans and panting and struggling for breath, "I love you, I love you."

And she slams forward against him covering his mouth with hers.

"Don't ever go home again," he says sometime later, his lips moving over her shoulder. He's still sitting in the same position with pillows piled up behind him but she's half sat in his lap, her legs on the pillow beside him, her head resting on his arm.

"That would be nice," she says surprising him, drawing circles on his chest.

"Would it?" he kisses her forehead, hopeful, patient, not pushing.

"If you want me," she may be half dazed from the lovemaking but she knows what she's saying, what she wants. "I could come and stay, test the waters."

"I know I'd never want you to leave," he admits, cuddling her.

She looks up at him, her face soft and joyful, "I don't think I'd want to."

He thinks on it, turns the words over in his mouth before daring to say them aloud. "Elsie, are you going to move in?"

She smiles wonderfully, "I want to, if you want to as well…"

"Of course I want you to."

"Then I'm moving in."

The practicalities of getting her stuff in his small place will have to be discussed later, and what she does with her flat, he always assumed she rented which makes it easier but if not she might sell – he might be able to go back to his idea from so many weeks ago of them buying a place together.

"You're pondering something," she says tickling his neck.

"Just…" He looks down at her, curled in his arms, naked and beautiful, "Are you happy?" He asks shakily.

She smiles, slowly, warmly, "Like I've never been before."

So, I kinda hope you enjoyed that enough to leave me a little message - as always I appreciate all your support and comments/reviews/re-blogs. x R