I would have been only too happy to keep this a one-shot, but Jack insisted he had more stamina than I've given him credit for. So I succumbed, grudgingly, to his wishes...
Chapter 2: A Fool's Paradise
"Were you tempted?"
The question ripped Jack's happiness- and whisky-saturated brain out of the contemplation of how different her skin looked – and felt – lit by the soft glow of half a dozen candles. In the time they had been lying snuggled up in bed together, talking about many things, none of which he could remember right now, the world outside the window had fallen dark. But in here was a tiny oasis of soft candlelight that reflected his inner glow.
"I am tempted by many things," he answered vaguely, running his fingertips down her arm, swallowing the rest of this particular thought. That he was still wearing his shirtsleeves and she had a promise to keep. Then again, his body was warm and heavy and touching hers in several places. He wasn't certain if he currently even wanted to be ravished.
"Do be serious," she demanded, her hair tickling his neck as she pulled herself onto an elbow. "Even you must have noticed that Concetta is quite lovely... and rather smitten with you," she added grumpily.
Jack couldn't help a smile. So, it was still bearing on her mind. Interesting.
"Even me, Miss Fisher? I could consider that an insult," he quipped, snuggling deeper into the pillows.
She huffed at this.
"Even Jack Robinson, most upstanding of all police officers, can't be completely oblivious to a beautiful woman's attentions."
His smile broadened.
"Maybe not completely." They fell silent for a long moment.
"So, why did you refuse her?" Phryne asked, refilling the only glass that had made it into the bedroom. The angle in which she held the decanter from her lying position turned this into a rather adventurous task. "It must have been an enticing offer...?"
He accepted the lipstick-stained tumbler from her hand and took a gulp, an act that felt strangely intimate, watching her pretence of nonchalance over the edge of the tumbler. He was indeed sorely tempted to inform her that he hadn't refused Concetta's offer at all. But he thought better of it.
"I believe this isn't a subject we should deepen," he grinned instead, "and if you insist on bringing it up, Miss Fisher, I may have to take drastic measures."
Her lips curled into a cheeky smile at his vague promise.
"Like what, Inspector?"
She retrieved the glass and emptied it without taking her eyes from him. Jack felt a rush in his belly that he chose to ignore. Still, he couldn't stop himself from smirking at her seductive batting of lashes.
"Like bringing up Captain Compton."
He might have imagined the slightest of squints before she rolled her eyes at him and returned the tumbler onto the bedside table.
"Compton is a dear old friend. But then he never proposed marriage to me."
"No, I assume his offers were of a more physical nature."
Phryne wasn't certain if to be amused or annoyed with Jack's sarcastic mumble. Beneath his dry humour, however, she could feel the mood change and that was not something she could allow to happen. So she didn't answer, instead pulling the blanket up to her shoulder. A moment later his breath hitched and she simpered as her palm trailed over the dark wool of his pants, his heat bleeding through the fabric and his muscles tensing underneath her touch.
"I believe your body is making me a very similar offer, Inspector."
To her surprise, he grasped her hand, removing it with gentle force from his thigh before pulling it to his lips. The tenderness of his kiss all but brought tears to her eyes, especially since he didn't seem willing to let go of her fingers even after he had finished with his caress – if for fear she might return to her doings or simply because he wanted to feel her, remained open to interpretation.
Phryne settled down into the soft pillows, felt his warmth creep up her arm from their entwined fingers, sought out his eyes which were big and shiny in the candlelight. There were questions lingering there.
"Have you ever been propositioned with the danger of holy matrimony, Miss Fisher?" Jack asked into the sudden silence.
"Maybe once or twice..." she stated vaguely before recalling who she was talking to. Indeed, Jack looked at her with an expression that told her that he could see right through her lie.
"It happens," she explained grumpily. "Not every liberal minded dalliance is understood as such by all parties."
She searched Jack's eyes for a reaction. While she had no intention of any romantic confessions tonight, she couldn't help but fear that he would take this personally. But his features remained unreadable.
"Undoubtedly," he finally breathed, extending his fingers to trail them over the pulse on her neck. "I imagine you have left many a broken heart in your wake."
"It wasn't always the men who misunderstood."
She hadn't planned on blurting it out and the surprise ghosting through his eyes made her wish she hadn't. Yet he didn't say anything, only his fingers stilled, now lying warm and soft like a butterfly against her neck. Phryne chewed on her lip, unsure what he expected. If he hoped she'd divulge her dire experiences with love to him, he had another thing coming.
"Are you going to elaborate?" he asked quietly and to her surprise it actually seemed like a genuine question. She shrugged.
"You've made Dubois's acquaintance."
"Briefly," he smiled.
His fingertips continued their wander down her neck and over her chest, avoiding the edge of her camisole and instead gently brushing a thin strap from her shoulder.
"And from first impression I could not quite understand the attraction," he continued under his breath when she just lay still, enjoying his attentions.
"He was... an adventure," Phryne explained, closing her eyes when he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her exposed shoulder.
"And of course you couldn't resist a challenge?"
"You know me better than to ask that," she smiled, her lashes fluttering open to find him leaned over her, his eyes dark, his hand having somehow curled around her waist. He actually did know her that well. The realisation caused her heart to skip a beat.
"I was also rather foolish," she admitted, when he didn't appear satisfied with her answer and revelled in the smile her confession provoked.
"A psychopathic killer seems indeed a rather unfortunate choice for a first love," Jack agreed with a tilt of his head before he returned to nibbling on her neck. Phryne's finger wove into his hair on their own accord.
"Who said anything about first?" she breathed. To her disappointment he retreated.
"Now I am intrigued, Miss Fisher."
Phryne weighed her options of dragging him back down to persuade him into continuing, but a tiny voice in her head pointed out that he had answered all her questions truthfully and it was only fair she repaid the favour.
"Russell Stonedale," she smiled thinly, her fingers playing with Jack's locks, a thumb brushing down his earlobe. "He was the Gardener's son at the boarding school I attended."
"Not a pick your aunt would have approved of, I assume," the Inspector quipped, struggling not to purr at her touch, yet he kept his eyes glued to her, unwilling to miss a shade of emotion on her features or a word from her lips.
"Aunt P might be a little too concerned with appearances," she smiled, realising that there was a lingering question being asked that went much beyond her young romance. "I grew up in Collingwood, Jack. I doubt my parents would have opposed any choice in man, but then I would have eloped if necessary."
The Inspector's hand, which had been lying still on her waist for some time, moved, his thumb stroking a little half circle over the silk of her camisole. Phryne noted it at the edge of her consciousness while most of it was busy diving into half-forgotten emotions.
"You were engaged?" he asked, sounding somewhat strangled.
She flashed a brief smile without interrupting the absent-minded caress of his hair.
"I guess not as such. We were dreaming with our eyes open... as young lovers do."
Jack realised that he needed to draw some air into his lungs. The idea of Phryne Fisher as a young girl in love, dreaming of a wedding and family, quite literally had taken his breath away.
"What happened?" he finally managed. She shrugged.
"I guess he just... changed his mind."
The frown appearing on Jack's features almost made up for digging through painful memories. Like it escaped his grasp that anyone could have rejected her. Phryne battled down the urge to laugh – or to cry, she wasn't entirely certain.
"His parents found out. They thought me a 'rich, spoiled brat' and a terrible influence on their son – not entirely unjustified, I assure you," she explained in an upbeat tone of voice. Her translucent eyes betrayed her happy appearance, however. "He didn't put up much of a fight."
Jack didn't so much as smile at her joke. Instead his hand slipped up her body, cupped her cheek, his thumb gently trailing over her lips.
"What a fool," he murmured in a tone of voice that crawled underneath her skin and vibrated in every fibre of her body.
"I was the fool," she whispered, while he caressed her with every bit of attention at his disposal.
"Shhh," he murmured and then he kissed her. Phryne discovered the strangest of emotions – being comforted by a lover and not feeling at all offended.
Eventually she had to come up for breath, finding his eyes soft and dark like black velvet. The emotion in them was overwhelming. His lips brushed over hers again in the lightest of touches, his hot breath ghosting over her cheeks. She pulled him closer, needing to feel him, desperate to wrap herself into his arms. Jack had no intention of letting go.
He had learned a long time ago that Miss Fisher always played her cards close to her chest. But somehow he had ended up one of the chosen few who were allowed to catch a glimpse into the depths of her heart here and there and every time he did, he felt the awe of a small boy stepping into a church for the very first time. And so he looked at the kaleidoscope of colours the Sunday afternoon sun painted onto the floorboards of her soul, the white marble and the gold glittering in the caress of the warm rays and wished he could stay forever. Not a thought he would share. He rather suspected that "forever" was something that scared her more than any crazy killer could.
Jack resurfaced from the depths of thought with the realisation that he was encircled by Phryne's soft arms, holding onto him tightly, his hot forehead lying against hers, her unique scent infiltrating his nose. The love spreading through his chest was crushing and he had to bite his tongue in order to keep the words from spilling over his lips.
His mouth found hers without any thought, the heat mingling on their tongues with a desperate wish to hold onto this moment.
Phryne felt a flash of emotion when his lips left to draw an intoxicating trail down her neck. His hand had come back to life, painting along every line of her body with gentle determination. She knew in the back of her mind that he had taken control of the situation yet again, but felt too heavy and content to stop him, instead allowing herself to melt into his touch.
Jack's hand reached the edge of peach-coloured silk, pausing for a brief moment to give him a chance to look at her. Whatever he found, he took it as permission and with the most tender of gestures he brushed the camisole down to capture a nipple with his mouth. Phryne arched her back in a soundless moan.
The Inspector had once again trouble holding onto his self-control. Every single one of his muscles trembled with tension as he continued his exploration of her body. But his desire to savour her and this night outweighed the lust rushing his veins.
It soon became clear that Miss Fisher wasn't going to make his resolve easy to keep. Writhing underneath him she rewarded his efforts with a throaty groan, causing his hips to jerk involutarily against her thigh.
Her fingers had stolen underneath his shirt and his breath hitched in his throat when her nails tenderly trailed along his spine. The Inspector closed his eyes tightly, touch guiding his caresses over her soft skin along with the little noises he drew from her. Everything about it was intoxicating and unreal, as if he had stumbled into a dream.
"Jack..."
It was a faint whisper, but it held all the longing in the world and his heart did a leap. Maybe he wasn't dreaming after all... A gentle hand curling around his neck urged him to return to her, an offer even a man much less in love than Jack Robinson could have barely resisted.
He didn't stand a chance.
The sight which met him challenged the remainder of his sober mind.
Phryne's beautiful breasts were flushed with excitement in the same colour as her cheeks, her eyes dark and sparkling in the flickering light and her lips - her lips... His observation ended abruptly when she pulled him down to her with gentle force, rendering thought impossible.
There was still too much fabric separating them, Phryne noted in the haze of arousal and joy clouding her brain. His thigh had come to rest between hers, his state unmistakable, yet he seemed determined to prolong the torturous pace he had set. Miss Fisher had never been a particularly patient woman.
She bucked against him, willing him to forget his restraints, but Jack wasn't having any of it.
He retreated far enough to struggle out of his shirtsleeves and for a brief moment he seemed to hesitate as he watched her eyes graze over his naked chest. Phryne had never glimpsed any doubt in him and felt oddly touched by the unusual emotion.
While she still contemplated this, her fingers appeared to have developed a life of their own, discovering the hills and valley's of his chest for the first time undisturbed.
Jack held still as if he was scared to move, but when her nail scraped over his nipple, he bit down on his lip with a quiet moan that went right through her entire body without even bothering to pass her ears.
It wasn't the only surprise playing on Phryne's mind. The distinct absence of an expected piece of clothing had met her unprepared the first time, but what she could have explained away with a laundry accident before, was now a fact – Jack wasn't fond of undershirts. She would have to ask him the reason. But possibly not while he was lying on top of her, looking entirely too delicious to ignore.
He was gorgeous in the soft glow of the candles, his chest slightly pale, his ribs too skinny, but neither diminished this moment, his eyes shining with passion and something else that took her breath away.
Love. It had to be.
Her throat was suddenly too tight to speak. Luckily there was no need for words. She thoughtlessly disposed of the restrictive camisole before pulling him against herself again, revelling in the feel of his warm skin against her breasts. Jack's mouth grew more urgent, his arms wrapping around her as if he wanted to meld her to his body and at present she felt she would have happily melted into him.
His comforting weight on top of her, Phryne's anticipation rose; she groaned in disappointment when he pulled away, yet again. Jack's amusement about this was as unmistakable as the lust etched in his breathless voice.
"Patience, Miss Fisher."
She pulled her lips into a pout.
"Not one my virtues, Jack."
He only grinned, his hand trailing down her sides before carefully peeling her skirt from her hips. Phryne felt strangely exposed. It wasn't as if Jack was the first man who had ever undressed her, but he seemed able to strip much more than her clothes from her, which turned out to be slightly unsettling and incredibly thrilling. His palm stroking over her stocking encouraged a soft moan from her, causing him to look rather smug, before a fierce struggle with a suspender clasp dampened his confidence. He had the decency to look embarrassed.
"I... Rosie wasn't in the habit of..."
Phryne pulled herself upright, putting a finger to his lips that silenced him instantly.
"I believe we have talked quite enough about former lovers tonight."
With one swift movement she opened the troublesome clasp before he even had the time to nod. The others followed. But when she attempted to roll down her stockings, her hand was carefully moved aside.
"Allow me... please."
Phryne was briefly surprised by his request, but a smile snuck onto her lips as she settled back onto her elbows to watch him work. This was a first for him - the realisation hit her with full force and flooded her stomach with warmth. She didn't have time to wonder in what other areas he may lack experience, distracted by the way his gentle hands stroked the silk from her legs with absolute concentration before returning for the last of her underthings. He certainly was a quick learner.
Jack couldn't tear his eyes away from the curves he had dreamed - fantasised about for longer than he cared to remember. His imagination hadn't done her justice and his body protested any further ado.
Their slow dance had left him painfully hard, yearning to be inside her, but he wasn't ready to see it end, which left him in a sea of conflicting emotion.
Jack removed his trousers unhurried, a last attempt at trying to prolong what he couldn't, but the glimmer he discovered in her eyes on looking up laid waste to the remainder of his resistance. Her warm arms welcomed him as he returned to her, opened her mouth with a tender kiss, stroking a lock from her flushed, glowing features. He couldn't withstand temptation forever, but he could savour this, he realised, and it would be his to remember. A treasure in the wasteland of his history.
She moved against him, urging him to quit his teasing and he complied with a faint grin which faded quickly. Their joining wasn't quite as overwhelming as their afternoon encounter, but Jack still felt himself tremble with the sensation. He lay still for a long moment, trying to find his senses and this time Phryne allowed him to. When he managed to pry open his eyes she was watching him with so much tenderness that his heart threatened to burst.
"Are you all right?" she whispered. A slight shake of his head answered her.
"I fear I am losing my mind, Miss Fisher."
His dry grin relieved her beyond measure and she pulled him into a sensuous kiss.
"Sanity is said to be the antagonist of happiness," she smiled, a tad out of breath when he began moving.
"I believe Freud might disagree," Jack panted, his lips almost brushing hers. Phryne was too lost in him to utter any reply.
They found a rhythm, an ebb and flow of movement in their entanglement of bodies and souls. He didn't speak another word, but she felt his undivided presence in every touch, every gesture and sound. In the flickering candlelight, wrapped in the heavy silk sheets with the dark night locked outside their window, he was hers.
Phryne found herself confused at how much she dreaded the morning.
A delicious groan brought her back to the present, causing her stomach to flip with desire. It wouldn't bear to dwell on their uncertain future.
Tonight was tonight. Tomorrow could wait.
The taut muscles underneath her fingertips, the thin layer of sweat covering his back as he writhed in the sweet agony of his building lust, his feverish lips blindly searching hers, soon made any thought impossible, reducing her to feeling, tasting and loving him with everything she was.
When Jack finally trembled, tightly wrapped in her arms, she felt no regrets.
He pressed a breathless kiss to her forehead before collapsing into an inelegant heap on the incredibly soft mattress. His day had been long and the unusual nightly activities had drained the last of his strengths.
While he watched her catch her breath, admiring a droplet of sweat rolling down the line of her neck in the light of the last remaining candle, he wondered dimly if he was expected to leave. She had fulfilled her promises, after all, and he wasn't entirely certain if Miss Fisher shared her mornings with her lovers as readily as her nights. The thought sobered him somewhat but was incapable of sweeping the lingering signs of bliss from his features.
She rolled to her side, facing him and he couldn't fight the relief flooding his senses when she brought the tangled sheets up to cover them both, her hand briefly brushing his cheek before it moved lower.
"How did this happen?" she asked quietly. It took him a moment to realise that she was indicating a mark close to his heart that she was currently caressing with the pad of her thumb.
"A silly amount of bravery," he explained with a wry smile. "Attacking an armed thug with only my fists was a very foolish idea, as it turned out."
"A fool thinking himself to be wise then?" she quoted teasingly, causing him to cock his head at her.
"A wise man who had to learn that he is merely a fool," he corrected. Jack struggled to resist the urge of stroking her still naked shoulder. "And I am a great fool, Miss Fisher" he murmured, losing the battle.
To his endless surprise she didn't jump onto this opening, instead turning to blow out the remaining flame, dipping them into darkness. He gave no resistance when he felt her arms snake around him, her hair tickling his neck as she snuggled underneath his chin. She fit neatly against him, he realised, holding on tightly, glittering stars dancing in his belly.
"I am rather glad you weren't fool enough to die before I've made your acquaintance," she breathed against his chest. The Inspector had fallen asleep before he could come up with a suitable reply to this statement.