One Intimate Night

Georgia barely waited until Piers had closed the door before leaping out of bed and making a dash for the shower room.

Ten minutes later she was just zipping up her jeans when Piers walked back in, carrying a tray with two mugs of hot tea on it and some delicious-smelling pieces of freshly cooked toast.

‘Is it really true? Have they really found Ben?’ Georgia questioned him anxiously as he handed her one of the mugs of tea and offered her the toast.

‘It certainly sounds like it. I rang the local police station whilst I was downstairs and spoke to the sergeant in charge, and he’s confirmed that the dog they’ve got there answers Ben’s description.’

‘Oh, I hope it is,’ Georgia told him shakily. ‘I’ve been dreading having to tell your godmother that—’

‘How do you think I’ve been feeling?’ Piers interrupted her wryly. ‘Give me five minutes,’ he told her, ‘and then we’ll go.’

Since he had been tactful enough to remove himself from the room to allow her the privacy in which to get showered and dressed, it seemed only good manners that she should return the favour, but, for some reason, Georgia discovered that she was oddly reluctant to do so, almost as though she couldn’t bear the thought of being apart from him.

Well, she was going to have to learn to do so, she warned herself sternly. Once they were home...once Mrs Latham was back from holiday...there would be no reason whatsoever for her and Piers to have any kind of contact with one another. And, since she was going to have to learn to live without him, despite her love for him, the best thing she could do was to start right now by sensibly going downstairs to wait for him.

So why wasn’t she acting on this eminently sensible advice? Why was she staying where she was, making a long job of drinking her tea and eating her toast whilst she wandered over to the window and stared out of it?

She could hear Piers moving about behind her, and then the shower-room door opened and closed again. Now she really should go downstairs. As she knew from her own experience, the shower room was not large enough for one to get dressed in. Once Piers had showered, when he re-emerged into the bedroom he would not be dressed. He would be... She tensed as the shower-room door opened and she heard Piers asking her casually, ‘Georgia, could you just pass me my bag? I left it over there by the window last night and my shaving stuff is in it.’

A little nervously Georgia went to pick up the bag she could see lying only a couple of feet away, carrying it to where Piers stood by the open shower-room door. He had a towel draped round his hips, but that didn’t do anything to stop Georgia recognising that beneath it he was naked. His torso and his arms were sleek and slick with moisture, and she knew that beneath the towel his lower body would be the same.

She was aware that her breathing had become audibly erratic, and she could feel hot, self-conscious colour staining her skin as Piers looked at her in amusement and teased, ‘What’s wrong? Anyone would think you hadn’t seen me before...’

‘It’s not that,’ Georgia denied immediately, and then stopped; but it was too late.

‘No. I know,’ Piers agreed softly, the amusement dying from his eyes to be replaced by something that made her pulse race, her heart beat in triple time with nervous excitement.

‘Come here,’ he commanded her huskily.

Unable to drag her gaze from his, Georgia did so. Something about the heat, the desire, the need in his eyes was mesmerising her.

When she reached him he took the bag from her and put it down, taking hold of her, his hands on her arms, his thumbs caressing her skin through the fabric of her top. It felt as though he couldn’t bear not to touch her, as though he felt compelled to touch her as she felt compelled to be with him.

‘What we can both feel, what we both know exists between us, isn’t something to be ashamed of, you know,’ he told her in a deep voice. ‘Me wanting you...you wanting me...’

Another minute and she’d be in his arms, and once she was there... Georgia closed her eyes. Her lips ached to press tiny, possessive kisses against his skin, her fingers itched to stroke and explore him, her heart yearned lovingly for him, and every time he touched her it grew harder for her to keep herself from telling him just how she felt...just how much she loved him...

‘They’ll be waiting for us at the police station,’ she reminded him in a stilted voice.

Immediately his hands dropped from her arms.

‘Yes. Of course,’ he agreed quietly. ‘I’d better finish getting dressed.’

‘I’ll wait for you downstairs,’ Georgia told him. This time there was going to be no way she could be tempted to forget the reality of the situation between them. This time she was most definitely going to go downstairs and wait at a safe distance from him.