long to build were coming down.
That night they made love for the first time. It seemed.
It was three o'clock in the morning. Kate murmured drowsily, half awake, half asleep. She settled into her pillow and put her arm around Delaney's waist and then started, flashing to the morning she woke up with Paul Archer in her bed. But as she lay back on her pillow she remembered more; lowering her barriers had let Delaney truly into her life, but it also brought back memories, as though it was only now that she was strong enough to deal with them.
She was quite drunk. Goodness knows how many vodkas she had had. She was dancing to another female singer now. She sang along and wobbled a bit. She sat down on the sofa.
'Ooops.'
Paul Archer stood up and reached for his jacket. 'I'd better be getting home.'
'Where do you live?'
'Finchley. I used to live down the road. My soon-to-be ex-wife has the house.' He shrugged with a smile. 'The bitch.'
She looked at her watch. 'It's too late. You'll never catch a taxi. Not at this time of night.'
'Then I'll walk.'
'To Finchley?! No!' She wagged a finger and was aware her words were slurred. And the more she tried to concentrate, the more slurred they seemed to become. 'You'll stay here. No funny business. But you might as well stay.'
Paul Archer smiled. He was a good-looking man, and she reckoned that smile had charmed the pants off plenty of women in the past. But all she wanted to do was go to bed and sleep for a week. She stood up and stumbled her way to the hall closet where she pulled out a duvet and handed it to him. 'The sofa is large enough to sleep on.' She knew that, because the last man she had given the duvet to was Jack bloody Delaney. 'You sleep here and I'll see you in the morning.'
She went to her own bedroom, left her pile of clothes on the floor and climbed into bed. She looked at the ceiling for a moment or two, at least the room wasn't spinning. She turned off the light and a short while later she heard Paul Archer come into the room.
'It's cold out there. Can't I sleep with you? Like you say, no funny business, I promise.'
She couldn't remember speaking but she remembered shaking her head. And she remembered the sound of him taking off his clothes and climbing into bed and thinking what the hell, as long as he just went to sleep.
'You try anything,' she said, 'and you're out the door.' She remembered him leaning over her. Showing his left wrist which had a Celtic tattoo of a chain. He turned it around so she could see the chain was broken. 'See this. I had it done the day after my wife made me leave my house. It's a symbol of freedom. I used to have a watch on this wrist which she bought me. I sold that the same day as well. Ten thousand pounds. She was a passive bitch as well, but she warmed up when I taught her how.'
Kate's eyelids drooped. 'What are you saying?'
His voice was hard now. 'I'm saying it would be no fun fucking you like this. Like a drunken slut. But I want you to know that when I am ready . . . I will fuck you. And what you want will have nothing to do with it.'
She struggled, trying to tell him to get out, but she couldn't seem to speak and his voice became soft and soothing like melted molasses as he stroked her forehead.
He spoke some more but she couldn't remember the words, she couldn't make them out. It was like nonsense he was speaking. And she couldn't keep her eyes open. She felt herself
