Richard said nothing until he drew apart from her and asked, ‘Are you cold?’
Lucy looked down at her nipples for the answer. They were erect.
‘Um, a bit,’ she said. ‘Why?’
‘I’m not sure you deserve to get dressed yet, but if you’re very cold … But the fire is lit downstairs, I think. I heard Rob muttering under his breath and striking matches. Perhaps you’ll be warm enough.’
‘I’ll freeze!’ Lucy hugged herself and made a beseeching face.
That seemed to make up Richard’s mind.
‘Of course you won’t,’ he said briskly. ‘Get downstairs. Why on earth would you need clothes anyway?’
‘Am I in trouble?’ she asked, turning to face him at the bathroom door. ‘For this?’ She waved a hand, indicating the whole cottage and the scenario itself.
‘You’re always in trouble, Lucy,’ he said. ‘You embody it. Downstairs with you, now.’
Knowing Richard’s ‘no more answering back’ voice well, Lucy flitted down the staircase to find Rob sitting in the best armchair by the crackling fire, an open bottle of wine and three glasses on the coffee table.
‘You finished your dinner?’ she said, plonking her bare bottom on a low leather-patched stool by Rob’s feet.
‘Yes,’ he said, smiling. ‘Is this your after-dinner outfit? I like it.’
‘Oh, it’s just an old thing I threw on,’ said Lucy, smiling back. ‘You seem very relaxed. I’m so glad.’
‘This place has that effect,’ he said. ‘Or it could be the food and wine. Though I haven’t had any wine yet. Do you want some?’
‘I’ll pour.’
She stood and bent over the table, making sure her profile was displayed to Rob at its best advantage.
‘Isn’t Richard coming down?’
‘I expect so. He might be getting changed, or unpacking a few things. Are you OK? Comfortable? Didn’t get too wet?’
‘I’m fine,’ said Rob.
He was wearing boots, rather tight jeans and a dark long-sleeved T-shirt; he looked casually mouthwatering. There were still traces of his cold, rainy journey in the high colour of his cheeks and the slickness of his off-blond hair, now a shade darker from damp.
Lucy handed him a glass of wine, and poured one for herself.
‘Cheers,’ she said, raising it, sitting as close to the fire as she dared without roasting one side of her body.
It was odd, how quickly she adjusted to her nudity. The self-consciousness she had expected to feel was a long way back in her mind – which was a little disappointing because, if she was honest, she had hoped for a stronger sense of shame. Instead she felt calm, warm and like an artist’s model, taking everything in her professional stride.
Something would have to be done about that, she thought.
‘Are you nervous?’ she asked.
‘Who, me? God, no, too busy enjoying not still being on that endless journey,’ he said. ‘And you make a nice visual accompaniment to the wine.’
His eyes were ravenously bright, observing her over the curved rim of the glass.
Lucy felt an additional warmth, above the fire. She thought of how Rob had seen her earlier, in the car, her bottom in his face while she sucked Richard’s cock. He had seen her at her sluttiest. He was still here, apparently unfazed.
‘The journey wasn’t all bad, I hope,’ she said with a smirk.
He returned it, swallowing his wine slowly and with relish.