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Robin arrived back at the table and plonked Strike’s pint in front of him. The Tottenham was busy tonight. It was a Friday, she supposed. She and Strike had fallen into a habit of wandering down to the pub on any Friday that they weren’t running surveillance, not that there were many of those. They hadn’t done this in a while, hence the reckless third round she had just bought. Not that three pints was reckless for him, but three glasses of wine definitely took Robin from warm buzz to a little drunk.
Strike smiled at her fondly. He liked three-glasses-of-wine evenings. Tipsy Robin was amusing. He made sure it was never his suggestion, but was always happy to go along with it.
Robin’s phone pinged as she sat back down, and she pulled it out to look at it, made a face and slid it back in her pocket. Strike raised a curious eyebrow at her.
She blushed a little. “I went on a date last night,” she said. “Angela set me up with one of her boyfriend’s mates, a double date. That was him asking me out again next week.”
Strike ignored a small stab of what he carefully categorised as surprise and certainly not jealousy. He hadn’t realised she was dating again. “I take it you’re not keen, judging by that face you made,” he said.
“No,” she said. “I’ll have to text him back. Tomorrow, maybe. We just... didn’t hit it off.” But the pause and her deepening colour gave her away. Strike watched her, amused.
“Define not hitting it off,” he said, grinning.
Robin took a gulp of her wine. Two and a half glasses in was definitely “total honesty” territory. “He kissed me,” she said. “Well, if you can call it that. He shoved his tongue in my mouth.” She shuddered.
Strike laughed. “It’s not supposed to make you feel disgusted,” he said, eyes twinkling at her screwed-up expression.
“Well, it did,” she said. “It was awful. Felt like he’d stuck a fish in my mouth.”
Strike roared with laughter, attracting curious glances from nearby tables. Robin saw the funny side and started giggling too.
“Then he’s definitely not doing it right,” Strike spluttered. He managed to regain control of his mirth. “It’s supposed to be sensual, pleasurable.”
Robin looked at him, serious suddenly, her head on one side. “I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced that,” she said.
Strike hesitated. This conversation was taking a rather personal turn. “Okay,” he said cautiously, unsure whether he was supposed to be asking for more information. They had grown a lot closer in recent months, but this was a significant step further, discussing love lives.
“Well, you know,” she waved a slightly tipsy arm. “I was with Matthew from sixth form. I’d snogged a couple of boys at school discos before that, but it’s so long ago I can barely remember. And with Matthew it was more about... what it led to...” She tailed off, realising she was discussing her sex life with her boss. Well, former sex life. I bet Cormoran’s a good kisser, she found herself thinking, vaguely. She had given up trying to pretend she wasn’t attracted to him some time ago.
Strike was on board with the conversation now. “Kissing is underrated, in my opinion,” he said. “It should definitely be something you do for the pleasure of doing it, not just because it can lead to sex.”
Robin choked a little on her wine at that. He raised an eyebrow at her. “You started this conversation,” he reminded her.
She nodded. “I did,” she agreed. She paused, and he could see a small battle going on within her. Curiosity won. “Okay,” she said, leaning forward. “What am I missing? How will I know when I meet a good kisser?” Perhaps I should just kiss him, she thought, tipsily. Then I’d know if he is.
Strike gazed at her. Sometimes he forgot how much younger she was. “You’ll just know,” he said. “It’s about the chemistry, but it’s also about taking it slow, about letting the moment build.”
“Go on, then,” she said. “How?”
He looked sideways at her. “Well, it’s hard to describe...” he began.
“So show me.”
Strike stared. “What?”
“Kiss me,” she said, smiling softly. “Show me how it’s done.” Desire curled around in her groin. Suddenly she really wanted him to kiss her.
“Robin, are you...? You’re joking, right?” he said, weakly.
“Well, I was when I said it the first time, if I’m honest,” she said. “But now I want you to.”
He just looked at her, beautiful and sexy and a little drunk and asking him to kiss her. Would he be taking advantage? Just kiss her, said the voice in the back of his head.
She saw his hesitation. “Cormoran,” she said, and the way she said his name sent a shiver through him. “Would you like to kiss me?”
“Yes,” he breathed. “God, yes.”
He kissed her very gently, leaning across the corner of the table. Just the lightest touch of his lips to hers. Heat shot through Robin at the feel of him. He reached a hand across and cupped the side of her face, fingers sliding into her hair, and his lips moved gently over hers, exploring. Robin could hardly breathe, her heart fluttering, her whole body trembling. He was barely touching her, but pleasure coursed though her.
Then his lips parted and she felt his tongue run lightly over her lower lip. She moaned softly, desire fizzing through every nerve. Her tongue sought his, and he leaned a little closer, gently bringing her head towards his, deepening the kiss, tongues meeting. She was lost in the sensation of him.
All too soon, he gently pulled back, gazing into her eyes, his suddenly dark with desire.
“Okay, point taken,” she said, shakily, smiling. She sighed. “Oh, I could do that all evening.”
“Good idea,” he murmured, and leaned in again.