‘Nice dress,’ he murmurs into my ear. ‘Where did you get it?’
‘Harrods, I think.’ His lips brush against my neck, just under my ear lobe. ‘I was a bit drunk at the time.’
He laughs and turns me to face him.
‘You are a bad, bad woman. One of the many reasons I love you.’
‘Are you going to draw those blinds?’
‘No. Nobody can see us.’
‘But Boyd …’
He places a finger on my lips.
‘Isn’t out there in the park, isn’t over on the West Side, isn’t here full stop.’
We lock eyes for a few seconds before he draws me in for a long, deep kiss. While one hand comes to rest between my shoulder blades and another on my buttocks, I drift away into a dream world, forgetting Boyd, tracing my palms across Dan’s biceps, up his shoulders, finally clamping them across the back of his neck. I’m knocking on the door of my own personal promised land when, in the midst of it all, a simple fact bubbles to the surface of my brain.
Shit.
I haven’t been taking my pill for the last week, not since the nightclub incident. After Dan’s apparent rejection, I couldn’t see the point.
Double shit.
I really should tell him, because I’m willing to bet he’s not come armed with condoms, and seeing as he’s not supposed to be here I have no idea how he’d manage to get hold of any at short notice. Within a matter of seconds, I’ve made a rash decision. I won’t fill him in on the situation because I’m fired up on lust. Instead, as soon as I’m out of this place, I’ll get myself to a pharmacy for the morning-after pill.
He releases me and steps back.
‘Stay exactly where you are.’
I do as I’m told. After all, I know the deal … and I like it too. Fizzing with anticipation, I wait as he circles me, slowly, surveying my body. At last, he reaches out and trails a finger lightly down my bare arm. A spark of electricity erupts at my core. I close my eyes, throw my head back and groan.
‘Head up,’ he whispers into my ear, behind me now. ‘Eyes open.’
His hands come to my waist and hold me firm.
‘You’ve lost weight.’
‘I’ve been on a wine diet. Broken heart and all that.’
‘You need to eat, woman. I love your curves.’
Releasing me, he takes hold of the zipper, patiently draws it down and slips both hands inside my dress, running warm palms across my skin, easing the fabric away from my shoulders until it drops to the floor. The spark of electricity erupts again. This time, it’s joined by others. Flinging themselves around my crotch with wild abandon, they’re already transforming me into a melting, quivering mess.
‘Oh good Lord,’ he breathes.
‘What?’
‘White knickers, black bra.’
‘Shit.’
Instinctively, I try to bend down to retrieve the dress, but I’m stopped immediately and urged back up.
‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years,’ he says, wheeling me round. ‘When a woman goes out to get laid, she always wears matching underwear.’
His eyes flash with amusement.
‘So, here’s your proof. I wasn’t planning on fucking anyone else, including Gordon.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be relieved to hear that.’
He reaches round, unclasps my bra and draws it away. With a smile of appreciation, he throws the bra to one side and cups my breasts for a moment before leaning down to seal his lips around my right nipple. He sucks gently, licks and sucks again. A sudden flood of heat in my breast quickly spreads through the rest of my body, wrenching the air out of my lungs, causing mayhem in my stomach and homing in on my crotch. Trying to steady myself, I grab his shoulders. Immediately, he releases the nipple and lowers himself to his knees. Slipping an index finger into my knickers, he tears them away, leaving me in nothing but stockings and suspenders.
‘Hello again.’ He smiles at my crotch, parting my pubic hair. ‘Long time, no see. How have you been?’
‘A bit bored actually,’ I answer on its behalf.
He raises an eyebrow. ‘Really? You didn’t indulge in a little finger action?’
‘Well …’ A blush rises in my cheeks. ‘Maybe a little.’
‘Vibrator?’ he asks, tenderly smoothing a fingertip across my labia.
I shake my head.
‘Never owned one.’
‘Good God, woman. We’d better put that right. I’ll buy you one for Christmas.’ His eyes darken. ‘And then I’ll use it on you.’ He kisses my crotch. ‘Get your backside on that bed.’
Again, I follow orders and by the time I’m in position on my back, he’s standing again, watching me
‘Right,’ he says, growing serious. ‘I need to get this out of the way.’
‘Get what out of the way?’ I sit up.
He wavers.
‘I’m a little different.’
‘What do you mean?’
Keeping his eyes fixed on mine, and clearly uncertain of himself, he unbuttons his shirt. He slips it from his shoulders, drops it to the floor … and waits. A silence extends between us. Finally, I break eye contact and look down, past the broad shoulders, the perfect chest and the six-pack, finally coming to rest on a scar that appears just above his waistband, crossing the lower half of his abdomen. Although I try not to react, I take in a sharp breath.
‘Does it bother you?’ he asks.
‘No. It’s just bigger than I thought.’
‘Well … they didn’t exactly have time to be careful.’
‘It makes no difference to me.’
‘It’s not the end of it.’
Slowly unbuckling his belt, he lowers his trousers to the floor, steps out of them and straightens up, presenting himself for inspection. Apart from the scar on his stomach, everything else is exactly as I
