Making Jane Proud

Chapter 25 - The Last Piece of the Puzzle

When Tom woke Sunday morning he found Ellie watching him, her elbow folded and hand propping her head up. He rubbed his eyes and blinked.

"Why are you staring at me?"

He was totally unprepared for her answer. "I was going to jump your bones but figured you'd probably enjoy it more if I waited until you were awake."

"What?" he spluttered. "Ellie! We can't have sex while you've got concussion!"

"Not wild, head-banging, eye-rolling, monkey sex, certainly – but there's tons of other stuff we can do and you are very inventive Thomas." The husky timbre of her voice when she said his name aroused him as much as the hand that was making soft, swirling patterns on his chest and stomach, but when it moved lower down he grabbed her by the wrist.

"Elinor Dashwood Cunningham! You are positively..."

She pulled her arm free and rolled over on top of him. "Irresistible? Breathtaking? Alluring? Desirable?"

He sighed. "You are all of the above, you little minx, but I was going to say insatiable."

She giggled and cast him a seductive look from under her lashes as she wriggled her hips over his groin, inflaming him even more. "There's pretty strong evidence down here that I'm not the only one, Hiddleston."

He pulled her up to kiss her passionately on the mouth before trailing his lips down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive spot at the base. The little moan she gave fuelled his desire further and he reached to the hem of her pyjama top, drawing it up as she raised her arms for him, then claiming her warm mouth again as he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them both over.

"Insatiable for you? Always."

---

"I love Lizzie."

"Why?"

"She's so much her own woman. She's strong, she's loyal to her family and she's uncompromising about love and marriage."

"Very much like your own namesake."

"Yes," she looked up at him, "Very much like Jane herself, I imagine."

He smoothed an unruly piece of hair down gently, careful not to touch the dressing over her wound. "You're a very strong woman too, Elinor Cunningham."

"I am?"

"Don't you think so?"

She shrugged. "I don't tend to dwell on my own personality; I think I'd get too paranoid about my flaws."

He gave a brief smile at her words before returning to the point he'd made. "You've dealt with your diabetes for almost two decades – don't you think that takes some strength of character?"

"That was more a case of sink or swim; I didn't have a choice."

"Darling, everyone has the choice of whether to accept adversity and move on, or give in to it and go under. You said it yourself – sink or swim. You made the choice to move on."

"I suppose so."

"Will you tell me about when you were diagnosed?"

"You wouldn't rather read to me some more?"

He put his hand under her chin and raised her head so he could look into her eyes. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

After only a brief hesitation she said, "I don't mind."

He put aside the copy of Pride and Prejudice he'd been reading from and she snuggled more comfortably into his arms. He smelt the light floral scent she wore and the citrus shampoo he'd washed her hair with earlier and pulled her soft warmth even closer as she began her story.