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An early evening glow seeped through the tall windows of their private quarters at Winfield House, turning everything golden and soft. Kate had kicked off her heels somewhere between the door and the sofa, her bare feet tucked beneath her as she nursed a whiskey. Hal stood by the side board, tie loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows, pouring himself one to match.
"So Whitehall's position," Kate said, absentmindedly swirling the amber liquid in her glass, "is that we should simply trust that the French will honour the timeline?"
Hal laughed—a short, sharp bark of amusement. "Whitehall's position is that we should smile politely while the French do whatever the hell they were going to do anyway, and then we'll all pretend it went according to plan."
"Ah. The special relationship in action."
"Precisely." He crossed to the sofa, settling beside her with the ease of long familiarity. His hand found her ankle beneath the cashmere throw, thumb tracing idle circles. "Though I shouldn't complain. Pretty sure we wrote the playbook on that."
Kate's eyes glinted. "American arrogance at its best."
"Flattery."
"Observation."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Outside, the grounds of Winfield House stretched toward Regent's Park, immaculate and green—a rare, luxurious expanse of open space in the middle of London. A lot of space to be alone.
"Eight days?" Kate asked, though she already knew.
"Ten, possibly. Depends how quickly State can get their act together." Hal's fingers moved from her ankle to her calf, a slow, absent-minded caress. "The undersecretary wants to 'align messaging' before the Ankara summit. Which means sitting in windowless rooms while people argue about semicolons."
"Sounds romantic."
"I'll send you pictures."
Kate laughed, a puff of feigned indignity. "Please don't. I have a reputation to maintain."
"As what? A woman whose husband doesn't photograph conference rooms?"
"As a woman whose husband has better things to photograph."
Hal's smile turned wicked. "Oh, I do. Though I don't think it would be good for either of our reputations."
"Hal." Kate groaned.
"Madam Ambassador."
She swatted at him with her free hand, but she was grinning. This was their rhythm—the easy back-and-forth, the verbal sparring that was as much a part of their intimacy as anything that happened in the bedroom. Maybe more.
"You'll behave yourself in Washington," Kate said, not a question.
"I'm always well-behaved."
"You're never well-behaved."
"I'm strategically well-behaved." Hal took a sip of his drink, eyes warm over the rim of the glass. "There's a difference."
Kate shifted, turning to face him more fully. The throw slipped, revealing the line of her throat, the hollow at the base where her pulse beat steadily. Hal's gaze tracked the movement, then down along the golden pendant she always wore at her heart.
"I'll miss you," she said, and meant it.
"I should hope so." His hand moved higher, fingers tracing the inside of her knee. "Otherwise I've been doing something wrong for the past ten years."
"Only ten? Feels longer."
"That's because you're exhausting."
"I think you have me confused with someone named Hal Wyler."
"I've heard of the guy—only good things."
They were both smiling now—that particular smile reserved only for each other. The one that acknowledged the absurdity of their lives: the impossible balance of public duty and private desire, the strange duality of affection and antagonism that defined them.
Hal set down his glass, turning to face her properly. His hand cupped her jaw, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "You'll be alright here?"
"I think I can manage to run an embassy for eight days without supervision."
"That's not what I meant."
Kate's expression softened. She knew what he meant. The question beneath the question—the one about whether she'd be lonely, whether the bed would feel too empty, whether she might want... distraction. "You don't need to worry," a short burst of wry amusement. "I have seventeen receptions, a trade delegation, and a very persistent cultural attaché who wants to discuss a repatriation request from the Smithsonian."
"Christ. Better you than me."
"That's why I'm the ambassador."
"That's my girl."
He kissed her then, slow and thorough, tasting of whiskey and something quintessentially Hal—familiar and grounding and home.
When they broke apart, Hal's eyes had gone dark, serious. "Still, I'd stay away from museums if I were you," he said, dry as a bone. "Spare our dear Smithsonian the scandal you provoked at the Louvre."
"Hal!" Kate's tone was arch. "That's rich coming from the person who orchestrated the scandal!"
"The Louvre was your doing." But he was grinning now. "I was merely present. Dennison, on the other hand, spent entirely too much of the latter part of the evening explaining to the French why the American ambassador wasn't a security risk."
Kate laughed. "He was very diplomatic about it."
"He's been very... diplomatic about everything." Hal's smile teased, his eyes glinting with something Kate recognized immediately—that particular brand of cockiness that meant he was up to something. "Though I'm not sure diplomacy quite captures how he looks at you."
Kate felt heat bloom in her cheeks. "Hal."
"What?" He took a sip of his drink, utterly casual. "I'm just making an observation. The man has excellent taste. Can't fault him for that."
"You're incorrigible."
"I'm observant." His hand found the back of her neck, thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "And I've observed the way you look back at him." His eyes gleaming with mischief.
Kate's breath caught. There it was—laid bare between them. No pretence, no dancing around it.
"Oh, you've noticed that, have you?" sarcasm coming to her defence, a bit off guard that he wasn't letting it drop.
"Katie—" Hal's voice dropped, intimate and knowing, patient and gentle with her bristle. "I have literally watched you take what you want from him," nosing with a meaningful glance across the room, toward their bed. "Watched the way you move with him. The way you respond to him." His thumb brushed her lower lip. "The question is what happens when I'm not there to direct traffic."
Kate scoffed at his presumption. "You weren't directing anything last time!".
Softly, "Last time was different Katie—that was about you putting me in my place. What if it wasn't about me at all?"
Kate rolled her eyes at his sheer arrogance. "Is that a rhetorical question?!"
"It's an honest... curiosity." His eyes searched hers, reading her perfectly. "You have unfinished business, and eight days is a long time. You'll be here. He'll be here. And I'll be in Washington arguing over economic policy and semicolons with a bunch of old, white men."
The implication hung between them—delicious, dangerous, unspoken but perfectly clear.
Kate raised an eyebrow, still incredulous at his audacity, an exasperated smirk drawing the corner of her mouth. "You're remarkably confident for a man about to leave his wife alone with someone who looks at her so diplomatically."
"Well, as you say, I'm sure you'll be far too busy with your seventeen receptions and persistent cultural attachés to entertain any... bilateral discussions."
Kate's pulse was racing now. His approach was insufferably full of himself and maddeningly Hal, but she knew him well enough to know he was genuinely giving her something—not permission exactly, but space. Acknowledgment.
He kissed her, brief and assured. "I want you to do whatever you want. Or not. Your call entirely."
Hal stood, draining the last of his whiskey. "I expect a thorough debrief when I get back," and with a barely perceptible wink, Hal placed his empty glass on the side table and left Kate with a quick peck on the forehead to finish packing.
Kate sat frozen on the sofa, torn between the urge to wring Hal's neck and the desire to sink her teeth into Austin's.
She remained there as the light faded over London, Hal's words circling in her mind.
What happens when I'm not there.
The thought sent a shiver of anticipation through her. Because of course, he was right. She had been thinking about Austin. Still. About what it would be like without Hal orchestrating, without the performance aspect. Just her and Austin, alone.
Unfinished business.
Kate polished off her drink, letting the whiskey down her throat. She set down her glass and headed toward the bathroom, crossing paths with Hal as he finished brushing his teeth.
Even as she went through the motions of their evening routine, the feelings stirring in her were anything but ordinary.
Eight days. No direction. Just her and Austin.
The question wasn't whether she wanted it.
The question was whether she'd actually do it.
And Kate couldn't shake the feeling that Hal already knew the answer—he was just waiting for her to do it on her own terms.
---
Kate was halfway through the tedium of reviewing a stack of memos and event briefings when Alysse knocked.
"Ambassador? The Foreign Secretary is here to see you."
Kate's heart skipped a beat. "Dennison?"
"He says it's regarding the Ankara situation."
This was... unusual. Austin didn't come to the American Embassy. Certainly not unannounced. As much as her pulse quickened, she wondered that there must truly be some urgency to the matter.
"Send him in."
She had maybe ten seconds to compose herself. To remind herself that this was work, that Austin Dennison showing up unannounced at her office was perfectly normal diplomatic business, that her heart pounding was entirely irrelevant.
The door opened.
He stepped in, closed the door behind him, and stood there looking slightly out of place—which was absurd, because Austin Dennison could look at home anywhere from Buckingham Palace to a Peckham pub. But there was something in the way he paused just inside the doorway, taking in the space with those careful eyes, that suggested he felt it too. A slight shift in the world around them as they met in her office. Alone.
"Foreign Secretary." Kate shifted her attention, leaning forward in her chair. "This is unexpected."
"Ambassador." He had a dossier tucked under one arm, his expression perfectly professional. "I apologize for dropping by unannounced. I tried to call ahead, but your line was engaged."
"Bureaucratic tedium waits for no one." She gestured to the stack of papers on her desk, then to the chair opposite. "Please."
Kate watched him as he strode across the room and sat, found herself cataloging details differently than before—the way his cufflinks caught the light, the precision of his Windsor knot, the obscenely refined manner in which he crossed his legs. All of it suddenly charged in a way it hadn't been before Hal was on a flight to DC.
"The Ankara situation," she prompted.
"Yes." Austin opened the folder, but his eyes stayed on her face for a beat longer than necessary. "There's been a development. The assessment we sent over on Tuesday is already outdated."
"How outdated?"
"Significantly." He slid a document across her desk. "This came through last night. The political calculus has shifted—what we thought was a three-party negotiation now actually involves five, two of which have interests that conflict with ours."
Kate scanned the brief, her mind already working through implications. "This changes the timeline."
"By at least six weeks. Possibly more."
"State's going to love that." She looked up, found him watching her with an expression she couldn't quite read. "Hal's in Washington right now, actually. Discussing this exact situation."
"I know." Something flickered across Austin's face—amusement, maybe, or something more complicated. "I spoke with him yesterday before he left. He mentioned you'd be handling the coordination from this end."
The mention of Hal hung in the air between them. Not awkward, exactly, but present. A reminder of the geometry of their situation.
"Well," Kate said, keeping her voice light, "I appreciate you bringing this over personally. You could have sent it by courier."
"I could have." Austin's gaze was steady. "But given the sensitivity, I thought a conversation might be more useful than a memo."
"A conversation."
"About strategy. Coordination." He paused, and Kate had the distinct sense he was choosing his next words carefully. "There are elements of this that require... discretion. Of the kind that does not translate well over email."
Kate felt a flutter in her chest.
"I see," she said.
"The problem," Austin continued, his tone perfectly measured, "is that the updated assessment includes intelligence that is still being verified. I have the raw cables at my place—I was working from home when they came through last night. If you would like to see the full picture, a complete briefing on the recommendations..."
He trailed off, leaving the implication suspended between them.
Kate's heart was beating faster now. A legitimate reason. A perfectly defensible professional reason for them to find time alone.
"I have the German reception tonight," she said slowly. "But I could stop by after. If that works for you."
"I'll be up." Austin's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes did—heat stirring. "Working."
"Working."
"Yes." The corner of his mouth lifted, barely perceptible. "Just working."
The words were so carefully neutral they became their opposite. Kate felt heat bloom low in her belly.
"What time should I—"
"Nine? Half past? At your convenience." He tilted his head slightly.
Kate nodded, not trusting herself to say more. The office suddenly felt smaller, the air between them thick with something that had nothing to do with Ankara or intelligence cables or diplomatic coordination.
Austin stood, absentmindedly adjusting his vest and jacket with both hands. "I should let you get back to your bureaucracy."
"Riveting stuff."
"I have no doubt." He moved toward the door, then paused, glancing back. "Kate?"
The intimacy of her name in his mouth, in her office, alone together—it landed like a physical touch.
"Mm hm," her voice escaping her.
"I'm looking forward to it."
His smile was small and private, just for her. Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
Kate sat very still for a long moment, staring at the folder he'd left on her desk without really seeing it.
Nine o'clock.
She'd known since last night—since Hal's teasing, the glint in his eye when he'd wondered what might happen when he wasn't there to direct traffic. She'd certainly known the moment Austin walked into her office, that shift in the air when he'd looked at her in her own space, on her own terms.
Her decision was made. The brief was just the convenient pretence she needed.
Kate carried on with her reviews, but her thoughts were elsewhere entirely—on the evening ahead, on finally having Austin alone, on discovering what existed between them when Hal wasn't orchestrating, when there was no performance, no script.
Just her and Austin.
The anticipation was exquisite.
Kate smiled to herself and turned the page.
---
The German reception had been interminable, no less so knowing what awaited her on the opposite end. Hours of careful conversation, strategic positioning—Kate had smiled and charmed and navigated the room, painfully aware of the time ticking much too slowly toward nine o'clock.
Now she stood outside Hanover Hall, the evening air cool against her skin. She'd changed after the reception—nothing too deliberate, just jeans and a silk blouse, a cashmere cardigan against the autumn chill. Casual. As if this were actually about the briefing document.
Hanover Hall rose before her—elegant Georgian architecture, refined power in every line. The kind of residence befitting the Foreign Secretary. Very Austin, she thought.
She climbed the stone steps and rang the bell.
The door swung open almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting. "Ambassador." His smile was warm, genuine. "Glad you could make it."
Kate stepped inside the hall, making a show of looking around, giving herself time to... what? Prepare? There was no preparing for this. No script, no direction, no Hal. Just her and Austin and whatever existed between them when no one else was watching.
Kate's eyes finally settled on Austin, and her breath caught slightly. He'd changed too—dark jeans, a grey henley that clung to his shoulders and chest in a more revealing way than his suits ever had. Barefoot. Laid back. Sexy as hell. He looked... younger, somehow. Less the polished operative and more just... Austin.
"Hi," she said, and immediately felt ridiculous. Hi. As if they were teenagers. *Really, Kate?*
"Hello," he replied, a gentle huff of fond amusement breaking through his usual reserve. Austin felt heat rise to his face at her refreshingly authentic—if rather un-British—enthusiasm. "No trouble finding the place?"
"Nah. I just told the driver to find the most pretentious residence outside of mine and Buckingham Palace—easy peasy."
A rigid nod from Dennison, mock offence as he clasped his hands behind his back. "In that case, I'm surprised you made it all."
"Ah, well, I did add one tiny detail about a lovely gentleman who looks rather dapper in three piece suits—that may have been the difference."
"Mm. Not many of us around."
"Lucky me."
They stood there for a moment, Kate in the hallway, Austin in the doorway, an awkward tension between them. Then Austin stepped back, gesturing her inside.
"Please. Come in."
Hanover Hall was exactly as Kate remembered it—if somewhat more cavernous without the buzz of dignitaries milling about. The art adorning the walls, the unmistakable weight of history and careful curation in every room—all of it felt more pronounced in the silence. She took it all in as she followed Austin up an elaborately carpeted staircase beneath an even more elaborate chandelier.
"I was surprised you answered the door - where are your staff?"
"At this hour, most have gone for the day. Security and a skeleton staff keep the Hall running, but I rarely see anyone at night. They're good at keeping a low profile, giving me privacy... as if it's hard to come by in a place this size." He smiled as they reached the landing, turning his head to prove his point. His gaze led hers across an array of doorways and halls branching off in different directions.
"My study is this way," and he continued down one of the wings and through an open door into a roomy, well-appointed den, with a desk covered in papers, a laptop still glowing.
"You really were working," she said.
"I really was." Austin closed the door behind her, and the soft click felt significant somehow.
He turned to face her, his head low, his dark eyes angling up to meet hers with a look that made Kate's pulse quicken. "Though I confess, my concentration wasn't quite what it should have been."
"No?"
"No."
He moved past her, taking the air with him, leaving her breathless. He stationed himself at a careful distance, near the desk, next to a bottle of decanted wine resting on a side table with two glasses waiting.
"Wine? It's a Burgundy. I thought you might appreciate something French after an evening with the Germans."
"Diplomatic of you."
"I have my moments."
Austin poured with barely steady hands and passed her a glass. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, and Kate felt the contact like electricity. That they were still dancing around something—anything—seemed absurd on the surface. They'd already tasted each other in ways that would make most people blush... and yet, not in perhaps the most intimate way of all: one on one. No distractions. Nothing to hide behind. The vulnerability was as suffocating as it was irresistible.
"So," she said, taking a sip. The wine was excellent—of course it was. "The brief?"
"Ah, yes." Austin's eyes gestured toward the desk. "It's just there—top of the pile. Bit lengthy, however. Perhaps we should warm up to it."
"Take our time?"
"Shouldn't be too hasty."
"That would be unprofessional."
"Terribly."
"We're diplomats. We're supposed to maintain certain standards."
"The highest." Austin took a sip of his wine, eyes never leaving hers. "Which is why I'm standing all the way over here instead of doing what I've been thinking about doing since you walked through that door."
Kate's heart beat faster. "And what's that?"
"Kissing you." His voice was molten—something so simple, so pure, sounding dangerously sinful on his lips.
"Well that would be very unprofessional."
"Catastrophically so."
"We'd be violating all sorts of protocols."
"Numerous." Something in his eyes shifted then—there was still want, yes, but also something careful. Hesitant.
Kate could sense he was stalling. She set down her wine glass and crossed the space between them—not rushed, but deliberate. She stopped close enough to feel his warmth, to see the way his breath caught.
His eyes closed for just a moment, tension in his shoulders releasing like he had been bracing himself. When he opened them again, his expression was entirely open, unguarded.
"As you well know, I'm very good at following orders," a bashful, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "But tonight..." He paused, and she could see him gathering courage. "Tonight, with your permission—always—I'd ask you to let me do what I want. Not because of Hal. Not because of some game. Just because it's you and me and... Kate—because I simply cannot help myself any longer."
The honesty of it stole her breath. No pretence, no power play. Just want, simple and direct.
Kate's throat felt tight. She stepped closer still, her body nearly against his, her heart beating in her throat. "It's all I've wanted for months."
The words came out urgent, breathy.
"Then I'm going to kiss you now," Austin murmured, setting his own wine glass down. "And it's going to be entirely unprofessional."
"Fuck professional."
He laughed as she lunged forward and kissed him, sinking her teeth into his sinfully plump lower lip just as it curved into a smile. He mumbled something chastising about "Language..." through the kiss, his voice crumbling into a groan of heady desire as he pulled her closer and kissed her back.
And it was like nothing before.
But for the first few, uninterrupted moments of their tryst at the Louvre, everything before now had been orchestrated, performed, part of a larger choreography. This was just them—Austin's lips soft and sure against hers, his hand sliding into her hair, her body pressing against his with a need that felt startlingly genuine and surprisingly new.
Pure. Simple. Fucking incredible.
Kate made a small sound against his mouth, and Austin responded by deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that made her knees weak. His other hand splayed across her lower back, holding her steady against him, and Kate realized she was clutching his shoulders like he was the only solid thing in the world.
When they finally broke apart, panting from sheer need, Austin rested his forehead against hers.
"Christ," he breathed.
"Yeah."
"This is..."
"I know."
They stood there for a moment, wrapped together, hearts racing in sync. Then Austin pulled back slightly, his expression almost shy.
"I should probably confess something," he said.
"What?"
"I need you to know—this isn't just scratching an itch for me, Kate. If that's all you want, I can do that. I'll give you whatever you need. But I need you to know it's more than that for me."
His vulnerability made Kate's chest ache. She reached up, cupping his face in both hands, making him look at her.
"Austin. I'm here. I came here. Not because of Hal, not because of convenience, but because I wanted to see what this is when it's just us." She kissed him softly. "So can you stop being so bloody noble and take me to bed?"
Austin scoffed, warmly derisive. "Bloody noble?"
"Too British? You're rubbing off on me."
"Mm, not yet, but I'm hoping to."
Kate swatted his chest, grinning. "That was terrible."
"I know. I couldn't help myself." He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. "Are you sure?"
"Austin. Bed. Now."
"Yes, Madam Ambassador."
He took her hand and led her into the adjoining bedroom. It was as carefully curated as the rest of Hanover Hall—a large, four-poster bed with crisp white linens, oil paintings on the walls, richly draped windows overlooking the gardens, a fireplace glowing to the side.
Austin turned to face her, and suddenly the playfulness had shifted into something more serious. More weighted.
"Come here," Kate said softly.
He leaned in, and this time when they kissed it was slower, deeper, a conversation without words. Kate's hands found the hem of his henley, tugging it up, and Austin broke the kiss long enough to pull it over his head.
Kate inhaled sharply, her hands splaying across his chest as her gaze drifted lower, tracing the defined ridges of his abdomen down to the V-line that disappeared obscenely beneath his waistband. "God, it's such a shame to hide this under all those suits of yours."
"Mm. I do like to maintain my propriety." His hands found the buttons of her blouse, fingers working them open. "Though I confess, it's slipping at the moment."
He pushed the fabric from her shoulders, revealing white lace beneath, and he hummed low in appreciation. Heat bloomed across her skin as Austin's hands skimmed up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts through her bra.
Kate shrugged out of her blouse, then reached for the button of her jeans. Austin's hands covered hers, stilling them.
"Let me," he said quietly.
He undressed her slowly, reverently, each piece of clothing removed with care. When she was standing barefoot in just her panties, Austin stepped back, his gaze traveling over her with open appreciation.
"You're staring," she said.
"I'm memorizing." Austin's voice was deep, heady. "Every curve, every line. The way you're looking at me right now."
"And how's that?"
"Like you want to wreck me but you're not quite sure whether to trample my British propriety."
"I want to ruin you," she corrected. Sultry. Certain. Fire.
"Then do it." He punctuated the consonants, each syllable dripping with the molten liquid of his deep voice.
Kate closed the distance between them, her lips crashing against his, her hands going to his belt. She made quick work of it, of the button, of the zipper, pushing his jeans down his hips. Austin kicked them away, and then they were both in their underwear, skin against skin, the heat searing.
"Bed," Kate murmured against his mouth.
"Bossy."
"You like it."
"I really do."
They tumbled onto the bed together, a tangle of tongues and limbs and need. Austin rolled them so Kate was beneath him, his weight pressing her into the mattress in a way that made her feel grounded and weightless all at once.
"What happened to me ruining you?"
"Change of plans—ladies first." He grinned.
He leaned into her, mouth finding her breast, tongue circling her nipple until she gasped, then moved lower—kissing down her ribs, her stomach, the erotic jut of her hip bone, his lips trailing fire across her skin as he went.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of her underwear, and he drew them down slowly, reverently, his eyes never leaving hers until she was bare before him.
Austin settled between her thighs, his hands sliding up the inside of her legs, spreading her open. He paused there, just looking—appreciating, dwelling in her—and Kate felt the heat of his gaze like a physical touch. Then he leaned in, close enough that she could feel his breath against her, warm and deliberate, drawing a soft whimper of anticipation from Kate.
His fingers traced languidly through her wetness, parting her, exploring. Kate's hips lifted involuntarily, seeking more, and Austin made a low sound of appreciation. He drew the width of his thumb up through her folds, rubbing her clit with maddening attention, then lower again, teasing at her entrance, savouring the litany of delicious noises she made.
Then his mouth was on her.
The first touch of his tongue was gentle, almost tentative—a long, slow stroke that made Kate's breath catch, a soft gasp. At the taste of her, the sound of her, Austin's composure shattered. He groaned against her, the vibration sending sparks along every nerve. The fullness of his lips sealed around her entrance, his tongue rolling inside with a quick tease before flattening against her. He licked her in one, two luxuriously broad strokes up her centre, then brought the tip of his tongue to her clit with devastating, flickering precision.
Kate groaned, her fingers groping the back of his head, holding him there, and Austin responded by sliding two fingers inside her, curling them perfectly as his mouth worked her with increasing hunger. The penetration, the stretch—pure bliss. His mouth was relentless, alternating between soft, teasing licks and firm pressure, kissing, sucking, learning for himself what made her gasp, what made her thighs tremble. He took his time, feasting on her pleasure.
"Austin—" Her voice broke on his name.
He didn't stop, didn't slow. His free hand gripped her hip, holding her steady as she began to writhe, his face buried between her thighs like he was starving for her. Raw need consumed everything—the filthy wet sounds of his mouth on her, the way he groaned against her like she was the only thing in the world worth losing his composure over.
Kate felt herself climbing, her body tightening around his fingers, Austin reading her more clearly than ever before.
"That's it," Austin called soft and low, his face soaking in her. "Let me feel you. Let me hear you. Just for me, Kate. No one else." He doubled down, his tongue worshipping her clit with perfect, unfailing rhythm.
The intimacy of it—the genuine connection in his voice, in his touch—sent her over the edge. Kate came with a cry, her body arching off the bed, Austin's name on her lips. He worked her through it, fingers gentling as the waves subsided, his other hand on her hip, holding her, grounding her.
When she could breathe again, Kate opened her eyes to find Austin lying beside her, watching her with an earnest mix of boyish warmth and gentlemanly tenderness that made her heart melt.
Kate reached for him, pulling him down into a kiss, the taste of herself on his tongue igniting a fresh wave of heat in her belly. "Your turn."
"You don't have to—"
Kate pressed her finger to his lips, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Remember when you said you were good at following orders?" Her tone was chastising, playful. "Yeah, I think we could use a little bit more of that." His lips curved into a smile, eyes twinkling with affection as he gave a brief nod.
"I am at your disposal."
She pushed at his shoulders until he rolled onto his back, then straddled his hips, her hands pressing down on his chest, her heat grinding down onto his erection, soaking through his boxer briefs. Austin's eyes rolled back into his head.
"Fuuuck," he breathed.
"Language."
"You're ruining my composure."
"That was the idea." Kate shifted, pulling off his boxer briefs, freeing him. As she wrapped her fingers around his length, hot and thick, she felt Austin throb in her palm. Kate stroked him slowly, firmly, drawing a bead of arousal from his tip. As she rubbed it over him with her thumb, he hissed—a sharp intake of breath that sent a current through her entire body.
She paused to meet his eyes with a cheeky, knowing grin, letting the anticipation stretch between them—then bent to take him fully into her mouth. He felt only her breath, ghosting along his length before the back of her throat closed around him—swallowed whole. When her lips sealed around his base and her tongue curled against his underside, Kate felt a shudder run through him. Austin's fingers found desperate purchase in her hair—not groping or guiding, just holding on for dear life.
"My God, Kate—" an aching groan escaped his lips.
For delicious minutes, Kate worked his length slowly, thoroughly, learning what made him gasp and what made his hips stutter. She cupped and stroked him with careful, deliberate attention, savouring his every response.
When she hollowed her cheeks and took his full length firmly with her lips, her tongue swirling against him, Austin's control cracked.
"Kate—stop—I'm going to—"
She smiled wickedly around him, heat pooling between her legs to hear him undone.
She redoubled her efforts, continuing to stroke him with her mouth—with everything she had. Austin's realization that she wanted this—that she was taking it, of her own volition—sent ecstasy coursing through him. Rolling her fingers into him as her palm cradled his weight, Kate felt the tremor of his release break free.
Austin cried out as he spilled into the back of her throat—a wordless, primal groan that crumbled to pieces, breaking on her name with the last of his breath. The taste of him flooded her senses, and she worked him through every shudder. Her tongue pressed him against the roof of her mouth, coaxing pleasure from each aftershock as she hummed her approval into his body.
When he stilled—with only the rise and fall of his breath still wracking his body—she pulled off, rising up to gaze down on him, exhaustion and exhilaration and... happiness written across his face.
The smile on her own lips ran through her whole body as she settled next to his, trailing her fingers over his chest. Coming back into himself, he glanced over at her with a drunken mix of awe, wonder and contentment in his eyes. Then he pulled her close, arms holding her tightly to his chest.
They stayed like that for long minutes, wrapped together, hearts beating in unison. Finally, Kate lifted her head, meeting Austin's eyes.
"Hi," she said softly.
"Hello." His smile was tender, unguarded. "That was..."
"I know."
"Different."
"Very different."
Austin's hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "Good different?"
"Very good different." Kate kissed him softly. He kissed her back.
They kissed lazily for a while, mouths exploring without urgency, hands mapping familiar territory with new attention, luxuriating in each other's presence—unhurried, unforced. Kate's palm slid down his chest, his stomach, lower, and she felt him stir against her thigh.
She pulled back, eyebrows raised. "Already?"
Austin's smile was almost sheepish. "Apparently you have that effect on me."
"Apparently." Kate's hand wrapped around him, feeling him harden fully under her touch, Austin giving an appreciative hum.
"It would be a shame to ignore."
"Indeed." He kissed her again, deeper this time, his hand sliding to the back of her neck.
"Wasteful, even."
"A diplomatic incident."
Kate laughed against his mouth, then shifted her body, straddling him in one fluid movement. Austin's hands found her hips, steadying her, and she positioned herself over his pulsing length. Their eyes met—a moment of perfect understanding—and then she sank down onto him slowly, taking him inch by inch, like it was their first time. Because in a way, it was.
"Fuck, Kate, I could get used to this," Austin breathed, strain in his voice.
"And I could get used to you swearing this much." Kate's head fell back with a sound that was half laughter, half groan, as her body adjusted to the fullness of him. She took a moment to simply feel it—feel him. Feel Austin. His stretch, his pressure, the way he filled her completely. Then she leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest, and began to move.
She started slow, rolling her hips as she searched for the rhythm that made her body hum with pleasure. Austin's hands guided her but didn't control her—he let her set the pace, let her take what she needed.
Kate shifted, arching back, driving him deeper and drawing a groan from them both. Austin rose to meet her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her flush against him, forehead to forehead, skin to skin, nothing but want between them.
"God, Kate—" His voice was rough.
"Fuck, Austin." She was climbing again already, the tension coiling low in her belly.
They moved together like that, breathing each other's air, trading kisses, the intimacy of it almost overwhelming. No performance. No choreography. Just them, just this—genuine and raw and perfect.
Then Austin's grip tightened, and he rolled them, Kate's back hitting the mattress as he settled between her thighs. The shift in control sent a thrill through her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
"Alright?" he asked, his voice low.
"More than alright." Kate's fingers gripped the breadth of his shoulders. "Don't you dare stop."
Austin didn't. He drove into her with deliberate intensity now, his usual elegance giving way to something more raw but no less powerful. Kate met him thrust for thrust, her body arching into his, chasing the pleasure building in her core. His mouth found her neck, her collarbone, the sensitive spot behind her ear that made her gasp.
"Austin—"
"I've got you, Kate." His hand slid between them, thumb circling her clit with devastating precision, and Kate felt herself hovering at the edge. But she wasn't ready yet. Not for this to end.
"Wait," she gasped. "Wait—"
Austin stilled immediately, concern flickering across his face. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Kate pushed at his chest, and he rolled off her, worried, confused.
She rolled right back on top of him, straddling his lap.
Holding his gaze with dark purpose, she slowly, deliberately positioned his slick length between the soft curves of her backside, sliding along him until his tip pulsed against her rim. "I want you here."
A brief flash of relief flickered across Austin's face, followed quickly by something ravenous and feral as understanding settled in. "Kate—"
"Unless you don't want to—"
"Oh, God no—I want to." His voice was deep velvet, his pupil's blown out. "Fuck, yes, Kate, I want to."
"Language, Austin." She drew his lip between her teeth, teasing, then kissed him deeply. When she pulled back, his tongue followed hers with renewed hunger, answering the challenge in her eyes.
Breaking their kiss, Kate leaned over, reaching for the bedside table and finding exactly what she was hoping to—a small bottle of lube tucked away in his drawer. She settled back to straddle him, this time facing away. Meeting his eyes over her shoulder, she held the bottle up with an arched eyebrow and a question she didn't need to voice.
Austin hummed, an indecent look in his eye. He took the bottle from her hand... and set it aside.
"We won't need that," he said quietly, his voice dropping to a low, wicked purr she'd never heard from him.
Before Kate could process what he meant, his hands were on her hips, drawing her up onto all fours. She felt his palms slide over her ass, spreading her open, and then—
His mouth.
Kate gasped, shock and arousal flooding through her in equal measure. Austin Dennison—elegant, refined, perpetually composed Foreign Secretary Austin Dennison—had his face buried in her ass, his tongue tracing circles around the soft ripples of her rim with deliberate, shameless intent.
"Hnhnh... fuuuck... Austin—" Kate's arms nearly gave out. This was so far beyond what she'd expected from him—entirely carnal, wholly brazen—that her mind couldn't quite catch up to what her body was feeling.
Austin didn't respond, too absorbed in his focus. His tongue pressed against her, circling, teasing—lapping at her before pressing inside with staggering intimacy. Kate felt his spit slicking her, heard the obscene, wet sounds of his mouth working her open. The sheer unexpectedness of it—the contrast between his usual gentlemanly demeanour and this outright indecency—made her dizzy with want.
He pulled back just long enough to spit directly onto her, and Kate groaned at the raw vulgarity of it. Of him. Of what he was doing to her. Then his mouth returned, his tongue pushing deeper, and she felt one of his fingers join in as he slicked it with her arousal before circling her rim and pressing inside.
The stretch was sublime. Austin worked her with patient thoroughness, his mouth and fingers alternating, adding more spit, more pressure, gradually opening her up. Kate was trembling, her face pressed into the mattress, completely unmade by this perfectly uninhibited side of Austin Dennison, his deference supplanted by bare, unfiltered hunger.
A second finger joined the first, and Kate gasped at the fullness, the electricity coursing through her. Austin's other hand reached around to find her clit, and the dual sensation made her cry out. He was preparing her thoroughly, taking his time, but there was nothing tender about it—just pure, filthy desire.
"Austin—" Kate managed. "I need—"
"I know." His voice was rough, wrecked, drunk with desire.
He positioned himself behind her, plunging his length into her soaking heat—once, twice—coating himself in her arousal with a low, feral groan before angling an inch higher and pausing against her rim.
"Turn around, Kate—let me look at you." A plea wrapped in a command.
Kate turned as Austin lay back, straddling him again, and the look in his eyes—dark, voracious, entirely undone—sent a torrent of visceral yearning through her. This was what existed between them when no one was watching. Not artifice. Not restraint. Raw, authentic, unbridled heat.
She positioned herself over him, his blunt pressure against her ready ass, and began to sink down slowly. Austin's hands steadied them both—one gripping her hip, the other guiding himself—his gaze anchoring hers in their shared rapture.
The stretch was exquisite, that perfect edge between pleasure and pain, and she took her time, letting her body adjust inch by inch.
"Jesus fuck Kate," Austin swore beneath her, agony and ecstasy in his voice.
"Mmhmm..." The ache of taking him in was intoxicating. When she was fully seated, she paused, both of them panting in tandem through the overwhelming sensation. Then she began to move.
Kate braced her hands on Austin's chest, using the leverage to lift and lower herself in a steady rhythm. Each movement sent waves of pleasure through them both, and she let herself get lost in the sensation and in his eyes—the intensity, the rawness, the way this transcended anything they'd shared before.
Austin's hands gripped her hips, guiding, supporting, his gaze roving between hers and the sight of himself being swallowed up inside her.
She moved slowly and steadily, taking him deep, chasing the building pressure. Austin's hand traced down her body to find her heat, his thumb dipping into her before circling her clit with slick, purposeful strokes. The sensation was euphoric—the fullness of him inside her, the insistent pressure of his touch, the shared understanding that going this far, this deep, this raw meant something real and true between them. She was climbing fast now, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.
"Austin—" she managed, and he read that she was on the edge.
"Me too, Kate." A response to her unspoken plea. His other hand slid up her body, cupping her breast, and his voice was ragged beneath her. "Come around me, Kate. Let me feel it."
The command, the communion, the way he was completely present with her in this moment—Kate shattered. She keened as her orgasm hit, the sound building to something ragged that tore its way from her chest. Kate cried out as the full force of her climax took hold, her body gripping his as she came. Austin followed immediately with a visceral groan, his release ravaging through him as he lost himself and clung to her, growling her name.
They stayed locked together as the aftershocks rolled through them, Kate's body trembling, Austin's hands gentle on her skin. Finally, carefully, she lifted off him, Austin's hands guiding her reverently as she lay down beside him.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Austin turned his head, his expression awed.
"That was—" He stopped, searching for words. "You really do love that." A drunken smile spread across his face as the afterglow left him incapable of anything more eloquent.
"I don't think I'm the only one." Kate chuckled softly.
Austin drew her close, pressing a smile against her temple.
"I think it's my turn to confess something," she said.
"What's that?"
"I never actually cared about the brief."
Austin's laugh was low and warm. "I'm flattered."
"I'm a terrible diplomat."
"You're a brilliant diplomat. But you are a little gullible."
Kate's smile faltered for just a beat—understanding dawning.
"Austin, you didn't—"
"There is no updated brief. I made it up." Austin's grin widened, clearly enjoying himself.
"Austin!" She swatted at him.
"What? I needed an excuse for us to be alone. I provided one." His eyes were dancing, mischievous. "Gentlemanly of me, really."
Kate shook her head, laughing. "Well, at least I can say it's the most compelling brief I've never read."
Austin rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her properly.
"I have to ask—what do we tell Hal?"
Kate smiled warmly. "The truth."
"And he'll accept it?"
"Already has. He practically encouraged it. We had a little chat before he left."
"Wait—so you knew this might happen?" False indignation played with genuine surprise in his tone. "You're telling me you came here planning to seduce me, and I went to all that trouble fabricating intelligence documents?"
"Gentlemanly of you, really." Kate's eyes twinkled with cheek. "Very convenient."
Austin's smile lingered for a moment, then faded as something shifted in his expression. His fingers stilled against her skin. "Kate, I know this is convenient... but what else is this for you? Between us?"
Kate considered the question—the weight of it, the honesty it required. "Real," she said finally. "Genuine. Ours." She paused, making sure he understood. "But it doesn't change what I have with Hal. Is that OK for you?"
"Kate, I'll meet you wherever you're at." Austin leaned down and kissed her—slow, thorough, reverent. When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with warmth and relief. "I was terrified you'd regret this, feel like you'd made a mistake."
"The only mistake would have been not coming."
He kissed her again, and this time it lingered—tender at first, then deepening. Kate's hands gripped the back of his neck as his body shifted over hers. When they broke apart, breathless, panting the same air, Austin's eyes gleamed with mischief.
"So," he purred against her mouth. "Since we've established that the brief was fictional and you were planning to seduce me anyway..."
Kate laughed, pulling him closer. "Mmhmm?"
"Stay." His voice dropped, smouldering. "Let me show you what happens when I don't have to fabricate excuses."
Kate's answer was to kiss him again, heat coursing between them once more—true and honest and entirely theirs.