Apologies for the delay in publishing this update. I've had some trouble with this chapter, so hopefully it's turned out all right. In compensation, it's quite a lengthy one. I've also included a few lines from Spooks which I'm sure you'll recognise. A big thank you to all who've stuck with this story and especially to those of you who've taken the time to review. S.C.
Three days later - Sunday, 20th November
She can hear his heart beating steadily as she rests her head on his breast, her left arm wrapped around his chest, her right around his waist, and her legs tangled with his as she lies beside him on his reclining armchair, her bum wedged sideways between him and the arm rest. The fingers of his left hand are toying with her hair as he rests his cheek against the top of her head, occasionally planting kisses against her hair while his right hand rests against her side, having wormed its way under her top, the feel of his warm skin against hers comforting and precious. He's covered them both with a soft, blue and red chequered blanket, and they're watching some documentary about Africa on BBC2. They'd actually planned on watching a film tonight until Harry had suddenly remembered that he'd never replaced the DVD player that had been stolen from his house over a year ago now, and they'd had to resort to the telly. She doesn't mind, though she'd enjoyed teasing him about it for a little while earlier in the evening.
They've actually had a wonderfully relaxing evening since they'd left work together and got home early, his home this time, taking full advantage of the fact that it's Sunday and a quiet day on the Grid. Scarlet had been overjoyed to see them and she'd felt a little pang of guilt for depriving her of Harry's company over the last few days, so she'd endeavoured to make it up to her by fussing over her and suggesting they take her for a long walk in the park. When they'd got back at dusk, she and Harry had cooked together and eaten before they'd settled down to play a game of chess, which she suspects he'd let her win, followed by a long cuddle on the sofa, while Scarlet slept in front of the gas fire, and their best snogging session to date. In fact, it's been one of the most enjoyable evenings of her life and she feels so close to him, so intimate, that she thinks she might actually burst with happiness. This, she can't help feeling, is as good as life gets.
They've managed to spend every evening together these last few days, ever since she'd moved back home from the safe-house, and it's been truly wonderful, almost as if the last two, awful weeks, hadn't happened. They've talked for hours, opening up to each other a little more each night, working through their concerns, their worries, and their fears until they've found a solution or a way around most of them.
She'd been surprised to learn that she'd almost convinced him that their relationship wasn't worth the danger it would place her in as his partner, particularly as Juliet had said something about them – he wouldn't tell her exactly what, which made her think it must have been really quite crude and made her dislike the woman even more, if that was possible – when next he'd seen her, clearly gauging his reaction and the level of his attachment to her, and that had been the reason behind the sudden change in his behaviour towards her. He'd attempted to distance himself from her by behaving as he'd always done, apparently without realising that this had simply served to confirm the rumours of their personal relationship, rather than dispelling them. But after what had happened because of Gary, he'd come to realise that she's in danger anyway, as indeed they all are because of the job, but also because, like it or not, he cannot control or entirely hide his feelings for her as had become very apparent right after the shoot out at the safe-house when Adam had taken one look at his face and immediately asked Zaf, "Is Ruth all right?" So he'd thought long and hard about it and realised that, far from keeping her safe, staying away from her was placing her in more danger as he wasn't near enough to protect her.
She'd objected very strongly to this idea initially, of course, insisting that she can take care of herself and doesn't need protecting, but in the end, she'd had to concede that he has a point, even if it's merely the fact that her disappearance, should someone abduct her, would be noticed much faster if she and Harry were together and in the habit of ringing or seeing each other every night after work. Not that Harry would allow that to happen, of course. He seems to have spent every waking moment since her near brush with death coming up with ideas, things they can do to minimise the risks to her safety, bless him.
He's already convinced her to have Malcolm and Colin upgrade the security at her house, which has been almost non-existent for a while now, and he'd also suggested that the new transmitter that Colin's developed be fitted to her coat. Apparently, Colin had assured him that he could adapt the device to be added to any garment, though it would mean losing the audio component of the transmission that the tiny microphones stitched into the fabric of the original jacket provide. He'd apparently been enthused by the idea of testing it out on her coat as it could provide a relatively inexpensive way to track agents if they ran into trouble. This additional measure of security had taken more convincing on his part, but eventually she'd agreed to try it out on one of her coat buttons, the fact that it remains inactive until the person wearing it turns it on, when it begins transmitting a distress signal and it's location to the Grid until turned off again, reassuring her no end. She's always been fiercely protective of her privacy, but in this case, she'd decided that the benefits outweigh the costs, in the end, and had agreed to have Colin equip her with it. Plus Harry had been so visibly relieved when she'd finally agreed that she'd have been happy to do it for that reason alone.
Of course, the fact that Colin now knows for a fact that they're dating hadn't gone down well, but she'd managed to forgive him inadvertently confirming the rumours, realising that he'd only been trying to find an acceptable and least intrusive way of protecting her. Besides, as Harry had pointed out, it's impossible to completely hide how they feel about each other, and though this week has been challenging, the evenings she's spent with Harry have more than made up for the discomfort she's felt at work. In fact, the happy, knowing smiles of her colleagues haven't managed to bring her down much at all, though she feels as if her cheeks are constantly burning and she can't help the low level anxiety she experiences while on the Grid or the way it flares up every time she's alone with Harry at work, fearing that everyone is watching and judging her. She's extremely grateful, however, that all her colleagues have done so far is smile and exchange a few looks, though Zaf's facial expression could really be described as nothing less than a grin. She's sure Fiona has something to do with the lack of any ribbing and, if she wasn't so embarrassed by the whole thing, she'd buy her something nice in thanks, maybe a huge, decadent, chocolate cake that she knows she'd love. Perhaps she'll splurge on a really nice present for her next birthday, she thinks; she should surely be over her embarrassment by July!
Harry had also confided in her that he'd made it clear to Juliet, when they'd met on Thursday, that both Hicks and she were to be left alone or else, which is part of the reason he'd been so pleased to see the book from Clive – the threat's so much more real now he has the original. She'd also been quite surprised, though in retrospect she knows she shouldn't have been, that he's had a couple of new legends created for her in secret, just in case, one of them matching one of his own so they can disappear together, if need be, as husband and wife. She smiles now as she remembers his uncertain look and shy smile when he'd mentioned this, feeling a little overwhelmed by the tenderness of her feelings for him as she squeezes him against her, causing him to hum in pleasure.
He's thought of everything, it seems, and she'd realised in that moment, when he'd shown her her new passports, how much of a legend he really is. To her, he's always been a good boss, a great leader, and a brilliant decision maker, especially under pressure, as well as being a warm, affectionate, kind-hearted, incredibly sexy and desirable man, but the true extent of his abilities in the field had become apparent to her only in that moment. She'd felt awed and small by comparison, and though a little self-doubt had crept in when she'd remembered that he'd chosen her above all other women and she'd began to wonder how she'll ever keep up with him and live up to his expectations, she'd rallied against it and forced herself to focus on how lucky and privileged she feels that he's singled her out to be his partner in life instead.
"Have you ever been to Africa?" she asks softly as she returns her attention to the images on the telly.
"Just to Egypt," he confesses, "a long time ago. Have you?"
"No," she sighs, "but it looks so beautiful."
He hums his agreement and says, "Ben worked in South Africa for a while. He was always telling me I should go out there to visit sometime, but I never got round to it."
"I'm sorry," she murmurs, squeezing him against her again. They've talked about many things these last few days, including a bit about their childhoods and years at university and about their families, so she knows a little about his brother and parents and how much he misses them.
"I often dream about a big trip," he ventures after a few moments of silence. "Nothing as exotic as Africa, just the great capitals of Europe. The Grand Tour – Paris, Madrid, Rome, Berlin... Visiting the museums, walking in the streets, sitting in cafés."
"Sounds lovely," she agrees.
"Of course, it's not a trip to do alone," he adds quietly after a beat.
"Did you have a particular companion in mind?" she smiles, realising where he's heading with this, or at least, hoping she's right in her assumptions.
"Well," he murmurs, "it would have to be somebody who's conversation you enjoyed, yet who understood the need sometimes for quiet, somebody with a gentle sense of humour... principled, but not foolish or naïve."
"Good qualities," she nods, tilting her head back to look at him as a warm glow spreads across her heart. God, he's just so bloody perfect at times, she thinks in awe.
"It's not often you find them in one person," he murmurs huskily, his gaze infinitely loving and tender.
She smiles, lifting her hand to cup his face as she sighs his name in bliss and holds his gaze for long moments. "You're forgetting something though," she adds playfully after a bit.
"What's that?" he asks.
"He has to be a spy," she grins, watching his face transform as he smiles broadly, his eyes twinkling in mirth. "That's very important. I have a thing for good-looking, British spies."
"Again with the good looks," he sighs in mock disappointment. "I fear that I shall never pass muster, Ruth."
"Oh, I think, you'll do just fine, Harry," she smiles. "Gorgeous, expressive eyes and soft, pouty lips. What more can a girl ask for?" She slides her fingers down his cheek, tracing his jaw with her fingertips and running her thumb slowly across his lips. "My Harry – practically perfect in every way. Have I told you how much I adore your lips?" she murmurs, reaching up to kiss them.
"Not today, you haven't," he whispers huskily before they kiss, again and again and again.
When he eventually pulls back, she sighs in contentment and burrows her face into his shoulder, valiantly trying to push aside the desire that's threatening to overwhelm her and make her do something stupid. She's promised herself to let him set the pace this time, to allow him to maintain control of their relationship until he's ready to trust her completely again, recognising that he needs that right now after the way she's treated him. Despite her resolution, however, it's not an easy thing to do when his proximity alone is enough to make her wet with want now, after several evenings of what feels like extended foreplay. It's getting more and more difficult to resist the temptation to touch him there and to stop herself from grabbing his hand and pressing it against her heat in aching desperation.
"Would you like some tea?" she asks eventually, needing an excuse to get up and put some distance between them for a little while.
"I'd rather have a drink," he replies, steadying her with his hands on her hips as she extracts herself from the armchair and stands. "What about you? Tea? A glass of wine? Whisky? Sherry? Or I think I have some gin."
"What kind of sherry?" she asks, watching him shrug and get up, going over to the sideboard and opening the cabinet in search of drinks.
"Looks like I have dry or medium-dry," he replies after a beat. "I also seem to have some Beirão, a sweet liquor from Portugal, and what looks like some kind of cocoa liquor. I've never tried that one. It was a gift from Uruguay or Paraguay or some other South American country that Catherine brought back for me."
"That sounds interesting," she smiles. "Let's try it."
He looks doubtful for a moment before sighing, "Very well, but I reserve the right to switch to whisky if it's disgusting."
"Fair enough," she smiles. "I'm hungry," she adds, and heads off into the kitchen in search of nibbles.
When she returns with a bag of peanuts, he's already poured their drinks, has switched off the TV, put some soft background music on, and is sitting on the sofa, waiting for her. "I thought you might find it a little more comfortable here," he says as she sits beside him and pulls her feet up onto the settee, sitting cross legged and pulling the blanket over her.
"Thanks," she smiles, tossing him the other end of the blanket. "Not that I didn't enjoy our cuddle in the arm chair, but you're probably right. Wouldn't want a numb bum."
"No," he smiles, pulling the blanket over his legs, "though I'd be happy to help by rubbing it better if such a thing ever happened to you, Ruth."
His eyes are twinkling at her in mischief, so she lifts her drink towards him and murmurs, "I'll drink to that. May my bum be numb on a daily basis." He laughs and lifts his glass towards hers, clinking them together before they both take a sip. "Mmmm," she hums. "This is good stuff, Harry."
"Not half bad," he agrees, setting the glass down and reaching for a handful of nuts, "though I can't see myself spurning the whisky for it any time soon."
"That's good," she smiles. "All the more for me."
He laughs again and the sounds disturbs Scarlet who yawns, stretches, and pads over to them, jumping onto the sofa between them. "Hello, Scarlet," she says, scratching her ears as she settles down, resting her head on her thigh. "Did you have a good nap?" She thumps her tail against Harry's leg in answer and sticks her tongue out a little in bliss.
"We've tired you out, old girl," Harry chuckles, stroking her side affectionately. "She hasn't had such a long walk in ages."
"She deserved it, poor pup," Ruth smiles fondly at the dog. "I've deprived her of your company for three days in a row now. She's been thoroughly neglected."
"I wouldn't go that far, Ruth," he objects. "Ever since Fidget came to stay, she's developed the very annoying habit of sleeping on my bed."
She laughs in surprise at that, lifting her eyes to his as she teases, "Doors not working any longer, Harry?"
"No," he replies, his ears turning pink as he adds, "but she whines if I try to close her in the kitchen now."
"Awww, you're such a softy, Harry Pearce," she smiles and leans over Scarlet to kiss his cheek. "And I do love you so very much, you beautiful, wonderful man," she sighs.
He lifts his eyes to hers and smiles softly, murmuring, "I love you too, my Ruth."
"I know," she smiles happily, taking another sip of her drink.
They're quiet for a few moments after that, sitting in companionable silence as they stroke his dog and sip their drinks until she works up the courage to ask him something she's been wondering about lately, ever since he'd placed her on that very special list of women he's loved. "Harry," she murmurs eventually without looking at him, "feel free to tell me I'm being nosy and to mind my own business, but... what went wrong? With Jane?" She sees his hand pause as it slides along Scarlet's side and feels him tense beside her, and when he doesn't say anything for a few moments, she quickly regrets asking the question, knowing that it's too soon and fearing she's buggered everything up by asking him now. "I'm sorry," she apologises quickly. "I shouldn't have asked that. Forget-"
"No," he interrupts, lifting his hand to cover hers. "You've every right to ask that question, Ruth, and to expect an answer. I'm not angry just... It's not an easy thing for me to talk about... Too many mistakes made, too many regrets to make it entirely comfortable."
She lifts her eyes to his and sees him give her a sad, self-deprecating smile. "You don't have to tell me now if it makes you uncomfortable," she says softly. "I was just... curious after what you said the other day, about the women you've loved."
"And you wonder what happened to destroy that love," he says matter-of-factly, "and are probably worried it might happen again... with us." She nods, blushing but still keeping her eyes on his. He sighs heavily and drops his gaze to the dog again as he resumes stroking her side. "It won't, Ruth. You and I... we're different; I'm different to the man I was. If things don't work out between us, it won't be for lack of trying on my part."
"Is that what happened with Jane?" she asks softly when he falls silent.
"Yes. Partly," he admits. "It seems like everything that could have gone wrong did. You name it, I did it. Lied, cheated, buried myself in work, became emotionally and physically distant and unavailable, made no time for my family. I mean, the first time Catherine called me Daddy, she was fifteen months old! She was practically speaking in full sentences before she knew who I was." He sighs again, a deep, heartfelt sigh that makes her heart ache for him because, no matter how much of a bastard he might have been back then, it's clear he's in pain now and she can't bear to see him suffer.
"In hindsight," he murmurs after a bit, "though I believe Jane and I were well suited, we were too young and she couldn't cope with my job and the way it changed me... And it did change me, Ruth, in ways she couldn't fathom or relate to. If I hadn't joined the Service, I think we could have made it work, but with me being a spy..." He tails off and shrugs his shoulders before continuing, "There were just too many secrets and somehow they destroyed any hope of intimacy; I couldn't figure out how to bridge the growing gap between us. In fact, I made it worse by lying to her from the very beginning, from the moment I applied to MI-5. She thought I was applying for a job with the Home Office and I didn't tell her the truth until our wedding day... after we'd cut the cake."
"Oh Harry," she sighs, her voice conveying her feelings of disbelief at his actions then, as well as the compassion she feels for him now.
"I think I knew she wouldn't like it," he continues quietly. "She would have hated being an army wife, though she thought the profession honourable, but a spy... that went against all her values. She hated lies and deceit of any kind. So you see, in a way, it was the job that destroyed us... That and my poor choices... And that's why I feel that what happened with Jane really has no bearing on us."
He falls silent again and it takes her a moment to pluck up the courage to voice her next thought, realising that she's unlikely to get a better opportunity than this any time soon. "And Juliet?" she asks softly.
He doesn't reply immediately, staring down at Scarlet as he runs his hand over her soft fur, but eventually he says, "Juliet was just a symptom of the underlying problem. I was... drawn to her, not just because she was a beautiful, intelligent woman with a strong personality, but because I could speak freely with her and be myself in a way that I couldn't with anyone else, least of all Jane... My stint with Six was difficult for a variety of reasons, both operational and on the domestic front, and once I was stationed in Cologne, I was the only MI-6 operative there and under a lot of pressure. I felt isolated and alone, so in a way, the affair with Juliet was inevitable. I needed her. She was my escape valve, though a very unwise one as it turned out."
She can't help feeling uncomfortable and jealous as she listens to him speak candidly about Juliet and his relationship with her. She's heard rumours, of course, and has felt certain they were lovers in the past, but though it happened years ago, when she had been just a child, in fact, she can't help her emotional reaction to his words. "What do you mean?" she frowns, latching onto his last words as she tries to push aside her treacherous feelings.
"I told her things I shouldn't have, things she had no clearance for," he confesses softly. "And she tried to use them recently to blackmail me into helping her get the job of Security Coordinator."
She makes a sound of mingled disgust and contempt at this, saying vehemently, "God, I hate that woman," before she can stop herself. He smiles and lift his eyes to hers, looking so amused that she feels the need to defend herself. "What?" she demands. "It's unfair of her to use something you told her in confidence while you were... involved with her," she states.
"Remind me never to use you as a honey trap, Ruth," he smiles, reaching his hand over to clasp hers.
"A honey trap?" she asks in surprise. "You think she was planning this all along?!"
"No," he shakes his head, "but I screwed up by telling her all I did. Juliet is ruthless and manipulative; she always has been. I knew I'd regret it; I knew the moment the words were out of my mouth. I was lucky she wasn't able to do much damage."
"What happened?" she asks, intrigued.
"The Home Secretary refused to accept my resignation," he shrugs.
"Your resignation?!" she exclaims, staring at him in disbelief. "I didn't know you'd resigned!"
"This was back in July, Ruth," he smiles gently. "I had no reason to tell you back then."
She hesitates for a moment and then asks, "Would you have told me? If we'd been together then?"
"Of course," he replies without hesitation.
She sighs and shakes her head before saying softly, "I'm not so sure, Harry. I think we're both so used to being on our own that it's going to be hard to... adapt to the more difficult bits of being together. I think you'd like to think you'd have told me, but realistically, I think I might have heard of it only after you'd got an answer from the Home Secretary, not before."
He frowns at her, looking thoughtful before sighing and nodding his head, saying, "Perhaps you're right, Ruth."
She smiles at him, pleased that he's being honest with himself and with her. It's important, she feels, for them to confront themselves and their problems head on. It's what she's always struggled with in the past and perhaps the reason why every other relationship she's had has failed, and she doesn't want that to happen to her and Harry. "The way I see it," she says, squeezing his hand, "I have a tendency to run and hide when I'm confronted by a personal problem, refusing to face it and hoping it'll go away. You tend to want to close yourself off from everyone and deal with it on your own. We both need to change that if we're going to stay together long term. We have to be a team, Harry."
He nods and lifts his head to smile at her. "My wise Ruth," he says.
"It's easy to be wise, Harry," she shrugs. "It's acting wisely that's difficult."
He chuckles at that, murmuring, "Very true." They're silent after that for a little while, watching each other until he suddenly asks, "How did you know? About Juliet?"
She blushes and drops her gaze, unprepared for the question. "Well, I knew you'd met while you were seconded to Six," she admits, letting go of his hand and beginning to stroke Scarlet again. "I think Adam mentioned that at some point and so, inevitably, some rumours started circulating around the office about the nature of your relationship back then, as they often do... but really it's the way you are around each other that gave it away. She touches you sometimes and there are occasional looks that seem to... connect you more deeply than two colleagues or even old friends. I can't explain it, but it seems obvious to me that you've know each other... intimately in the past."
"You're a born spook, Ruth," he smiles and she can't help blushing at the compliment and feeling incredibly chuffed to have him praise her like this. They both stroke Scarlet for a few moments in silence after that, until she feels the need to ask another of the burning questions she has about his past. She lifts her head to look at him and sees him do the same, smiling softly as he asks, "What is it now, Ruth?" And she can't help blushing again as she lowers her gaze, a little shocked that he knows her so well and, at the same time, really quite pleased about it.
"I was just..." she begins and pauses for a moment, plucking up her courage before she swallows and continues, "wondering if... there were others."
"Affairs?" he asks softly.
"Yes," she whispers.
"No," he shakes his head and it surprises her so much that she lifts her eyes to stare at him. He smiles at her, perhaps pleased to have surpassed her expectations, but it's short lived as he becomes serious again and admits, "It lasted about six months and I ended it because Jane became pregnant with Catherine. After we returned to England, I'm ashamed to say, there were... drunken one-night-stands and the occasional honey trap for work, but no affairs."
She nods mutely, frowning as she drops her gaze to Scarlet again and resumes stroking her, lost in thought, trying to pull apart and analyse what he's told her, her own feelings, and what this means for them, but his voice soon brings her out of her silent contemplation. "Is it my turn now?" he asks softly.
"Your turn?" she questions, lifting her eyes to his in puzzlement.
"To ask a question," he clarifies, his expression serious.
She swallows and nods, murmuring, "Yes, okay. I suppose that's only fair."
"Good," he nods, still looking serious, "because I have something very important I need to know."
"What?" she whispers, feeling her stomach begin to tie itself in knots as the seconds tick past without him saying anything.
Then, when the tension has become almost unbearable, he leans in and asks softly, "Which do you enjoy more, Ruth? When I kiss your lips, or this special spot right here?" and he lifts his hand and gently strokes the extremely sensitive spot on her neck, just under her left ear and jaw, that he'd discovered recently. She shivers and gasps in surprise, her eyes closing momentarily as her whole body responds to his sensual caress with a potency that shocks her a little. When she opens her eyes, his gaze is dark and he looks exceedingly pleased with himself. "Well?" he murmurs when she fails to respond immediately.
She frowns, puzzled for a moment that he's apparently serious about this, that this is the question he really wants to ask her. "Seriously?" she stammers. "That's all you want to know?"
"Mmm hmmm," he hums, watching and waiting, and when she still doesn't reply, he drops his gaze to his dog, still lying between them and now dozing peacefully. Gently, he dislodges her from the sofa, saying, "Time for bed, Scarlet. Go to your basket," and, surprisingly, she complies without protest, shaking herself after he puts her down and trotting off to her bed in the kitchen.
"Ruth," he murmurs, pulling her attention back to him as he slides closer to her on the settee and lifts his hand to cup her face. "I know you, my Ruth. I know how much you value and need information, lots of information so you can explore and examine it from every angle, pulling it apart and putting it back together again, making new connections and coming up with every possible permutation, every possible outcome, outcomes that no one else can see. You're an analyst, and a brilliant one at that, and I know how much you need to know everything. I know that and I'm trying to give you what you need, but... I'm not like that, Ruth. I don't need to know everything about you and your past to know that I love you more deeply than I've ever loved before, that I'm prepared to give all I have to make this work, and that I will not make the same mistakes I made with Jane. I'm a field agent. I've always relied on and trusted my instincts, and my gut is telling me right now that you are a dream come true and that I am the man who can make you happy."
And suddenly all that there is, is Harry, his voice and his eyes, such beautiful, intense, passionate eyes, and she can't breathe. "We complement each other, Ruth. We're perfect together. You keep me grounded and calm, you check my impulses and give me enough information to help me make better decisions and fewer mistakes, and I stop you from over-analysing everything, from getting bogged down in the details and over-thinking everything, so much so that you forget to enjoy life. It's like you said – we're a team, a bloody good team, Ruth." He pauses, watching her for a few moments as his words sink in and she begins to realise the truth of them. A smile begins to spread across her lips and she sees the answering smile appear on his own as he murmurs, "Now... you haven't answered my question yet. This is very important. Which do you prefer?" and before she can reply, he's leaning in to kiss her mouth, gently, softly, and exquisitely tenderly, before he lifts his head a little and whispers, "On your lips?" Then slowly he tilts his head down, his left hand gently moving her hair away from the side of her face, his warm breath coasting over her skin and making goosebumps appear all along its path, her breath catching and a gentle gasp of anticipation escaping her as he moves closer, pausing with his mouth just millimetres from the spot he's aiming for. "Or this spot right here?" he murmurs before he leans forward and his lips press softly against her for a moment before he pulls back a little and then leans in for more, his lips parting this time and his tongue slipping between them to caress her skin. The touch is delicate and fleeting at first, but moments later, she's gasping for breath and her hands are pulling him towards her as his lips collide with her flesh and suck hard, his tongue still moving sensually against her. "Oh God, Harry," she gasps moments before he releases her and moves back to her lips, his kiss passionate and bruising in it's intensity now as his fingers slide into her hair and his right hand slips behind her, drawing her against him. They get utterly lost in this kiss, and when eventually his lips release hers, they're both breathing hard and she knows that, if he pulls back again after this, she'll not be able to keep her resolution to let him be the one who initiates sex this time.
"Well?" he growls huskily, long moments later.
"Lips," she murmurs dreamily and sees him smile, but as he's about to lean in again to kiss her, she shakes her head gently, adding boldly, "The other ones," and though she hadn't thought it possible, his gaze grows darker still, smouldering as unmasked lust settles over his features.
"Stay," he demands, his voice gravelly. "Stay and let me make love to you tonight."
"Yes," she whispers, "Yes, Harry," and suddenly he's kissing her again and everything is passion, and fire, and sweet abandon.