Page 51 of Otters and Obstacles
When she leaned down to kiss him goodnight, he instead tugged her into his lap and kissed her breathless. She pulled away with a laugh.
“Peter! What has gotten into you?”
He shook his head and kissed her again until she was twined around him as his hands roamed over her and under her skirts. There was something frantic about his lovemaking tonight. She tried to soothe him with her affection, but it only seemed to redouble his agitation.
At last, he pulled his mouth away from hers, panting a little. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Dizzy with passion, she allowed him to lead her out of the drawing room and up to their room, pausing to kiss her every so often until she was nearly as frantic as he.
Once their bedroom door was locked, Peter all but threw her onto the bed and began rapidly stripping off his clothing as shewatched. She was overcome with giggles, and he looked at her with a half-smile.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are,” she said, and crawled to kneel on the edge of the bed so he could more conveniently kiss her as he unbuttoned her dress and pulled it and her petticoats down almost as quickly as he had shed his own clothes. Unlacing her stays took him a little longer, but soon she was as naked as he.
He bore her back onto the bed until they were skin-to-skin, and she gasped.
“I need you, Georgie,” he said, and bent to kiss her again, his hands stroking her to make her ready before he pushed inside, filling her so abruptly that she gasped.
He stopped and looked down at her. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. Don’t stop.” She pulled his head down to kiss him, curling her arms and legs around him, matching his urgency with her own until she shattered around him as he groaned his own release.
Still panting, he rolled to the side and pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she was almost unable to breathe.
“My goodness,” she said. “You certainly were inspired by the Harvest Festival.”
“Yes,” he said.
And bent his head to kiss her again, his hands roaming her body until she moaned with pleasure, unable to resist him when he needed her so.
Any thought she had of trying to convince him to tell her what was bothering him so greatly was swept away by their passion.
Tomorrow. They would talk tomorrow.
She woke slowlythe next morning, wincing a little at sore muscles and places rubbed raw by Peter’s night beard, but otherwise feeling relaxed and dreamy. It had been a wonderful night, and she could only hope she had helped soothe whatever it was that had been so distressing for Peter.
The light through the window told her it was later in the day than she usually arose, so she got up and washed, lingering at little at places that were still sensitive after the previous night.
He must love her. He could not have made love to her with such intensity if he did not.
Just as she finished dressing, the bedroom door opened and Peter walked in, fully dressed and smelling of the outdoors. He seemed tense and unhappy despite their night of lovemaking, and her euphoria began to fade.
“There you are,” she said. “You can help me with my hooks.”
He walked over and began to hook her dress up in back. She wanted to turn in his arms to kiss him, but the distance she felt from him warned her not to.
When he was done, he turned her and took her hands in his. “Everything is all arranged.”
“I… what?”
“I must leave, but I have spoken to Mrs. Clarke and she will be happy to host you until my return. I dislike the idea of leaving you here with only Mrs. Barwick and Annie for protection.”
“Protection? What is going on, Peter?”
He sighed and led her over to the settee in front of the unlit fireplace. He helped her sit and then knelt to take her hands in his.
“I must leave you for a few days.”
