Her statement meant nothing, really. There were dozens of steps between sharing a kiss and sleeping together, and this sentiment didn't help him distinguish what her actual threshold was tonight when it came to any of those. And at any point while they were progressing through those steps, she might change her mind about what she was comfortable with. It might still happen. He didn't mind much either way; she was probably more starved for sex than he was, despite being married. Starved for decent sex, anyway. But he recognized that she had probably said it out loud more for her own sake than for his, and he was willing to give her that. Whatever she needed to feel comfortable with the choices she'd already made tonight, and the ones she hadn't made yet but may have already been thinking about.
The kiss meant more than her words did. The kiss meant she wasn't ready to stop. If she regretted having come here in the first place, the regret was small enough to be outweighed by her longing. Not for him — he knew that. Just for someone like him. Someone who would look at her with desire, who would compliment her, who would make her feel she deserved to feel good.
(In the years since his aborted duel he had convinced himself that this was what Elfrieda had wanted, too; that she had never really needed him specifically. He didn't know whether this was true or not, but it made it easier to rationalize the decision not to have written her when he left the country).
He returned her kiss. He managed to set his wine glass down on the armchair side table he could just barely reach, then shifted closer to her, pressing their bodies together. He moved his now empty hand up and brushed the backs of his fingers down the length of her neck.
"You could put your hair down," he suggested. He'd barely pulled back from kissing her to say it and his voice was soft, his lips still hovering just over hers. He wasn't trying to pressure her into anything, which was why he hadn't said anything about her clothes. He didn't need to rush her; he could play the long game here. Her husband didn't kiss her like Don Juan did, and she had sought him out for croquet and then come up with the idea for the wager and followed through on meeting him in the study. She had decided to lock the door. He'd get her in the end.
The kiss meant more than her words did. The kiss meant she wasn't ready to stop. If she regretted having come here in the first place, the regret was small enough to be outweighed by her longing. Not for him — he knew that. Just for someone like him. Someone who would look at her with desire, who would compliment her, who would make her feel she deserved to feel good.
(In the years since his aborted duel he had convinced himself that this was what Elfrieda had wanted, too; that she had never really needed him specifically. He didn't know whether this was true or not, but it made it easier to rationalize the decision not to have written her when he left the country).
He returned her kiss. He managed to set his wine glass down on the armchair side table he could just barely reach, then shifted closer to her, pressing their bodies together. He moved his now empty hand up and brushed the backs of his fingers down the length of her neck.
"You could put your hair down," he suggested. He'd barely pulled back from kissing her to say it and his voice was soft, his lips still hovering just over hers. He wasn't trying to pressure her into anything, which was why he hadn't said anything about her clothes. He didn't need to rush her; he could play the long game here. Her husband didn't kiss her like Don Juan did, and she had sought him out for croquet and then come up with the idea for the wager and followed through on meeting him in the study. She had decided to lock the door. He'd get her in the end.
![[Image: 0hYxCaj.png]](https://i.imgur.com/0hYxCaj.png)
MJ made this <3