How does he feel about it? He isn’t sure. His body wants him to say yes, his hips shifting beneath her hand. His eyelids flutter, but he doesn’t want to lose himself to this. He has his reputation to think about, and also hers. He doesn’t want them to start any rumors, but who’s going to see them?
“It’d be bumpy,” He murmurs, stubbornly refusing to both encourage her on and also stop her. “And probably uncomfortable. Carriages aren’t made for sex.”
With a heavy sigh, she sits back, and simply decides to, well, let him decide on his own. He can sit there with his erection all day. She won’t mind.
“I won’t try and convince you if you’re set against it. Another time then, dear,” She strokes his hair and then rests against him, warm under all the covers. Florian was right about something, however; it began to rain. Drops fall to the carriage in tiny thuds, like fingertips dancing across. She allows her body to relax and absorb the sound. From what she remembers, she tries to imagine what it may look like outside.
