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Robin sat up and looked around. “They’ve gone,” she said. “Perhaps we could… take an hour off?” She glanced shyly at Strike.
Her burly partner grinned. “That sounds like an excellent plan,” he said. “You’re going to have to give me a minute, though.” He glanced down at the bulge in his trousers still pressed against her hip, and Robin giggled, giddy with power suddenly, with the long-dormant feelings within her that their kiss had awoken. She leaned over him where he lay on his side, propped up on his elbow, and kissed the side of his neck, breathing the scent of him, spice and smoke. She trailed her lips gently up to Strike’s ear and he drew a shuddering breath. “That’s not helping,” he murmured.
She smiled against his cheek. “Sorry,” she whispered. “There are just so many things I’ve wanted to do...”
She sat up again to give him a little space, and he was looking up at her, still smiling. “And here I was thinking it was just me.” He couldn’t deny the surge of masculine pride - he hadn’t been wrong, then. This attraction, whatever one wanted to call it, was mutual. He hadn’t been imagining things, allowing his ego to run riot.
“Well...” Robin flushed a little, but there was no point in being coy. They both knew that they had danced around this moment for some years now. “It wasn’t. And here we are.”
Strike nodded, very much hoping that she envisaged the rest of the afternoon going the way he wanted it to. It had been a while, and although he supposed there was no rush, they had a perfect opportunity in front of them. No one would even need to know if they chose to keep it private. The timing couldn't have been better as far as Strike was concerned. But would Robin feel the same?
Robin smiled softly and turned away, busying herself packing up the picnic. She was battling a sudden flutter of anxiety, at the rug having been pulled from beneath her feet, caused by the abrupt shift in their relationship in the last few minutes. Packing away food and finding lids for jars and bottles busied her trembling hands for a few moments.
They clambered up from the blanket, Strike ungainly but resisting assistance as always, and Robin picked up the neatly repacked picnic basket.
“Ready?” Strike asked her softly, and he held out his hand. Blushing a little, Robin tucked her hand into his, and they strolled back towards the main house hand in hand as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
They delivered the picnic kit back to the front desk, and Strike collected their room key.
“A drink first?” Strike asked softly, gesturing towards the bar, and Robin hesitated, wondering if a glass of white wine might take the edge off her nerves, or if the delay would add to her slight feeling of trepidation. She mostly wanted to not break the feeling of the moment, the spell between them since that spectacular kiss outside, and she feared a delay, a dose of small talk, might slide the afternoon into awkwardness. She shook her head.
“In that case, give me just a moment,” Strike replied, excusing himself in the direction of the toilets near the stairs.
When he returned, the detectives made their way slowly upstairs. Robin was trembling a little now, excited and nervous. They reached their room and Strike opened the door and led her in. She half expected him to make a move towards her immediately, but he didn’t. He dropped the key on a desk near the door, and stepped away from her a little, giving her space to wander round the room and take it all in, the little sofa by the window, the desk, the TV…and the huge bed that occupied the middle of the room. Robin turned and faced him. He was watching her, his eyes dark with desire, but making no move towards her.
“I... l’ve only ever been with Matthew,” Robin said hesitantly.
“I figured,” he replied gently. “We don’t have to rush into anything.”
She grinned at him. “Rush?” she said. She crossed the room towards him slowly, enjoying watching him watching her approach, seeing how his breathing became more uneven as she moved closer. “The one thing we haven’t done is rushed.”
He laughed a little, his voice deeper now with desire as she stepped right up to him. “Tell me about it,” he said. “Oh, Robin, I have waited for this moment.” Suddenly he sounded shaky himself, his voice filled with emotion, and her heart melted. She wrapped her arms around him, her head laid against his broad chest, and he hugged her tight.
Strike stood, with Robin in his arms, and allowed the moment to stretch. He needed to be guided by her. She was considerably less experienced than the women he usually took to bed, and he was one of the few people who knew her specific reasons for possibly having feelings of reticence around the whole subject of sex; he needed her to know that nothing was taken for granted, that he wasn’t going to—
“Cormoran.” Her voice was muffled in the front of his shirt.
“Mm?” He buried his nose in her hair, smelling the scent of her shampoo, the uniqueness of Robin.
“If I want to stop—”
“Then we stop,” he said at once.
She nodded, her face still hidden. “I know,” she murmured. “I just needed to hear it.”
Strike kissed his way down the side of her head to her cheek, nuzzling and encouraging her to tip her head up to his. “I know.” His lips found hers, gentle at first, and then she opened her mouth to him and the kiss took off, and suddenly he was back on that blanket in the gardens outside, Robin in all his senses, fire in his veins, and rapidly losing control of his body’s response to her.
Robin was lost in the moment, in the taste of him, the sweep of his tongue across hers, the big hand warm in the small of her back, pulling her closer against his body. Already she could feel how much he wanted her, and experienced that heady sense of feminine power again. She made a small sound of encouragement in the back of her throat and broke free from the kiss, her hands going to the buttons on his shirt, fingers deftly working.
As soon as she had undone three or four, Strike, impatient, pulled his shirt off over his head, and Robin was free to explore the copious body hair she had only ever seen glimpses of, one hand closing around his bicep, revelling in the latent power she could feel there. She nuzzled into his chest, and felt a rumble of amusement echo through him as she explored with mouth and fingers, his chuckle turning to a soft gasp that sent a bolt of pleasure through her belly.
“Robin,” Strike murmured, and stepped back a little, gently tugging at her top, a question in his eyes.
She nodded, and he undressed her slowly, peeling her top from her body and up over her head, gently undoing her trousers and sliding them down over her hips. He took his time, and his lips found each area of skin he exposed - a gentle kiss on her shoulder, a whisper of breath on her stomach, a press of his lips to her hip - until she was standing before him, blushing a little, in just her underwear, underwear that didn’t even match because this had been a work trip with no thoughts of romance on her mind.
“God, you’re perfect,” he said reverently, and Robin felt perfect suddenly, forgetting to be self-conscious about the rounded curve of her belly or the wobble of her bottom. Matthew had preferred her slimmer, but Strike worshipped her curves.
She reached for his belt buckle, feeling a little daunted suddenly, and his big hands closed over hers. “Robin—”
A smile stole across her face. “I’m not made of glass, Strike,” she said, and he laughed at her use of his last name when she might have chosen Cormoran in such an intimate moment. “I won’t break.”
He grinned. “Then get on the bed and let me do some of the things I’ve been hoping to get the chance to do,” he growled, only half-joking, and Robin grinned back and obeyed, pulling back the covers while Strike swiftly undid his trousers and sat to remove them and his prothesis. Before she had clambered beneath the heavy bedclothes, he was crawling across the cover to join her, and Robin squeaked and giggled as he swept her into his arms and wrapped her into a bear hug, and then gave a little moan as he began to truly explore her body.
She was sure, afterwards, that he must have kissed every inch of her skin, stroked every part of her with surprising gentleness in his big hands. His skilled fingers danced across her, drawing goosebumps from her flesh, easing her bra away, teasing at her breasts until she was writhing beneath him, aching with desire. His voice against her neck, against her skin, murmured endearments and asked permission in a tender way that she could only gasp “yes” to, and before she knew it she was naked beneath him, with his mouth at her breast and his fingers gentle between her thighs until the pleasure was too great and she had to push him away.
He paused at once. “Too much?” And Robin truly knew in that moment that despite the flush in his face, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the tremble of his body and the press of his erection against her through the thin material of his boxers, that he truly would stop at any point.
“No,” she murmured, as the pleasure threatening to break within her eased a little. “Just… I don’t want to… you know, too soon.”
His confident grin made her blush deeper. “No such thing,” he replied. “You can go again.”
Robin buried her face in his neck, breathing the incredible scent of him, musky and aroused. “I never have before.”
“Well,” was Strike’s, she was sure, slightly smug reply. “There’s always a first time.” And his hand crept from her hip back down. She let her legs fall open to welcome him, and in a few skilful minutes he had brought her gently to an ecstasy her body had almost forgotten, and yet she was sure she had never quite experienced before in such intensity.
He held her for a minute while she floated back down to earth, and before she had truly caught her breath he was kissing her cheek, moving his mouth to her neck, his hand gentle at her breast, and Robin suddenly sensed that he was right, that her body did indeed have more pleasure to find in this man’s arms, in this moment.
She reached for him, keen to give him the pleasure she’d received, and between them they removed Strike’s boxers. Renewed desire clenched within her as she caressed him and his deep groans filled her ear, his body shuddering with pleasure next to hers. He made no effort to keep quiet; she liked this, she decided.
“Do you have…?” Robin was a little jolted from the moment by her realisation that it had taken her until this moment to think of the potential consequences of their unexpected encounter, but Strike merely nodded.
“Vending machine in the gents’,” he replied, reaching for his trousers which, Robin now realised, he’d carefully left within reach, and in a few moments he was ready and lying next to her.
“Where do you want me?” His deep voice, made deeper by arousal, held enough hint of fondness to chase away any doubts that might have lingered; wordlessly Robin pulled him on top of her, tugging at his hip, and he rolled onto her and slid into place in one smooth, confident movement.
Robin arched a little beneath him at the unexpected pleasure of it; he was bigger than Matthew, as she’d long suspected (when she’d allowed herself such thoughts) that he would be, and she had half expected a little discomfort but all she could feel was the delicious stretch of him, the satisfaction of being filled. Then he was moving above her, into her, murmuring endearments and pleasure into her ear, taking his time but building her steadily, until Robin was lost to all but sensation and the inexorable rise of her orgasm, a delight that was heightened by his as he swore softly and grunted against her cheek as he followed right after her and slumped against her, their breath and sweat mingling.
Robin lay and caught her breath again, her body relaxed and sated. Strike was a comforting bulk, a weighted blanket anchoring her, and she held him to her with a sound of protest when he made to roll off her; with a chuckle he relaxed back into place and they held one another for long minutes more.
Eventually Strike shifted away to deal with the condom; shivering a little at the loss of his warm bulk, Robin tugged at the covers and he rolled back to pull her into his arms again; her last thought as she fell asleep was how comforting she found the sound of his familiar snoring as she felt secure in a hotel room for the first time in many years.