Some Girls Do

Chapter Fourteen




Claire listened to Luca’s voicemail, wishing she could go back and start the morning again. She felt such an idiot for running off like that, mortified that Luca might see it as the behaviour of a jealous girlfriend. She had been angry at being confronted by another woman in his flat, but only because she hadn’t wanted to be put in an awkward situation. If only she’d stuck around for a few minutes instead of high-tailing it out of the door, she’d have found out that the girl was his sister. It made sense when she thought about it. She had the same colouring as Luca – the same olive skin, dark hair and brown eyes. She hadn’t even known that he had a sister. He never mentioned his family – not that they spent a lot of their time talking. It occurred to her that she knew very little about him. It would have been nice to stay and meet his sister – and then she could have spent the rest of the day in bed with him having amazing sex. She felt a pang of regret, longing to turn around and go back. But now she was reluctant to face him, embarrassed about the way she had left. She called Luca back and told him she had things to do today but she would see him that evening.

It was a beautiful day, unusually warm for May, and as she walked into town, the pavement cafés were already full of people sitting outside, enjoying the sunshine. It lifted her spirits. The weather seemed to put everyone in a good mood, and the city felt like a happier, friendlier place. She found it endearing the way Irish people got completely overexcited at the first hint of sun, immediately donning summer clothes and sunglasses, heading to the beach and dining al fresco. She loved days like this when the world seemed full of promise. She just wished she had someone to share it with. If she hadn’t been such an eejit, she could have been sharing it with Luca and his sister. Still, she wasn’t going to let that get her down and spoil the day.

She decided to treat herself to breakfast in her favourite café. She walked to Dame Street, and read her book while lingering over a delicious full Irish in the Queen of Tarts. Eating breakfast alone with a good book was usually her idea of bliss, but she struggled to feel content. She was usually happy in her own company, but now she felt unsettled and restless. Maybe it was because of the weather or perhaps because her mother had been away from home for the past couple of weeks and she had had enough of the solitude, but she craved companionship.

When she got home, she decided to ring Mark to cheer herself up. She dialled his number, buoyed at the prospect of having someone to talk to, even if it was at a distance.

‘Claire, hi!’ He sounded gratifyingly pleased to hear from her and his friendly voice made her feel brighter. ‘Great to hear from you. How are you?’

‘I’m good.’ She smiled into the phone. Better now. ‘How are you?’

‘Still getting the run-around from Millie,’ he said with a sigh, ‘but otherwise I’m fine.’

‘Oh, no! What’s Millie up to?’

‘She left me – for the bloke across the road.’

‘Ouch! That’s a bit close to home.’

‘Tell me about it – she didn’t even have the decency to try to hide it. Every day she’d be there, flaunting herself in his front window, where she knew I’d see her.’

‘Well, you’re better off without her.’

‘Oh, she’s home again now. Came slinking back last night with her tail between her legs.’ He sighed. ‘That’s not true, actually – her tail was in the air. She’s shameless.’

‘And you took her back?’

‘What can I say? I’m putty in her paws.’

Claire laughed.

‘So, what are you up to today? Are you getting this lovely weather over there?’

‘Yes, it’s gorgeous. I’m going to visit my mother this morning. Maybe I’ll meet up with a friend later on, and do something.’

‘How is your mother?’

‘She’s good, doing well. How about you? What are you doing?’

‘I’m meeting the guys for a run on the Heath – I’m just waiting for them now. And later a bunch of us are going for brunch – a new place by the canal in Little Venice.’

‘That sounds lovely,’ Claire said wistfully, suddenly feeling very distant from Mark – he had a whole life she knew nothing about, a life she wasn’t part of. She didn’t know who his friends were; she couldn’t picture him with them. He seemed so remote from her.

‘It’s a perfect day for it,’ Mark broke into her thoughts. ‘I wish you could come.’


‘Me too.’ She sighed.

‘Or that I could be there with you. We could go to the Iveagh Gardens.’

She smiled, thinking of their kiss.

‘Any chance of you getting over next weekend? I’m dying to see you.’

Claire knew her mother wouldn’t mind. She would have to drum it into her brothers that they had to visit. ‘Yeah, that should be doable,’ she said. ‘I’ll look into flights and stuff and get back to you. Okay?’

‘Great! Well, the guys are here. I’d better go.’

‘Okay. Have fun.’

‘Looking forward to seeing you again.’

‘Yeah, me too. Bye.’ Claire hung up, cheered by the thought of going to London, but she quickly became deflated again. In a way, talking to Mark had only made her feel more isolated, and a bit sad. Determined not to let it get her down, she rang a couple of friends to see if anyone wanted to meet up later. But Jane, an old school friend, was too busy ferrying her son around all day to parties and sports, and Catherine was on her way to a wedding in Wicklow. Oh, well, she would visit her mother, then spend the afternoon reading in the garden before heading back to Luca’s. There were a lot worse ways to spend a day.


Claire was dressed too warmly for the weather, so she swapped her boots for flat pumps and changed into cropped jeans and a short-sleeved top before going to the nursing home. She grabbed a light summer jacket from the wardrobe and was on the way out to the car when she got a call on her mobile. It was one of the care staff from the home, asking her to see the manager when she was next visiting. She explained that she was on her way and said she would speak to Mrs Byrne when she got there.

Damn, she thought, as she tossed her mobile onto the passenger seat and put on her seatbelt. She could have done without that today. She didn’t like Theresa Byrne and hated having to deal with her. She was a tough woman, who tried hard to come across as caring and maternal, but underneath the phoney fa?ade she was frosty and overbearing. Claire found her intimidating. She was hopeless at dealing with people like that and always let them get the better of her. Still, she shouldn’t let herself get wound up about it – it was probably just some administrative formality she needed to see her about.

When she arrived at the home, one of the nursing staff showed her to Theresa’s office. She was sitting behind her desk – a plump, middle-aged woman with iron-grey hair cut in a rigid bob that was a monument to hairspray. Claire had never seen it move.

‘Ah, Claire.’ She looked up. ‘Thank you for coming. Have you been in with Mum?’

‘No, I’m on my way now. I called here first. You wanted to see me?’

‘Yes. Sit down.’ She waved Claire to the seat in front of her desk, then leaned forward confidentially. ‘Are you aware that we had an incident last night?’

Claire’s stomach turned over. She knew Theresa meant her mother – she was a big fan of the royal ‘we’ – and her mother’s ‘incidents’ usually involved ambulances, paramedics, heart-stopping races to hospital and teams of doctors working to bring her back to life. Why hadn’t anyone called her? Jesus, had they called the house and she wasn’t there? But they had her mobile number.

‘Nothing to worry about,’ Theresa reassured her, clasping her hands together on the desk, as if in prayer.

‘Not a medical emergency?’

‘Oh, no! Nothing like that. Although we did end up having to call an ambulance for poor June …’

Claire wondered why she was being told about June, whoever she was.

‘I’m sorry if I gave you a fright, dear,’ Theresa said.

Claire nodded, disliking the woman more than ever.

‘Let me explain.’ Theresa drew a deep breath and assumed a solemn expression. ‘As you know, residents aren’t supposed to have alcohol in their rooms.’

Claire had an awful feeling she knew where this was going, but she was so giddy with relief that nothing serious had happened to her mother that she didn’t really care.

‘It’s for their own good. The rules are there for everyone. Of course, we let them have a little drink on special occasions, but it’s all properly regulated. We have a duty of care to our residents …’

Claire sat back and let Theresa’s words wash over her. Apparently her mother’s friends had been smuggling in drink for her and she had been holding raucous parties in her room, her fellow residents crowding in, getting drunk and disorderly, then staggering back to their own rooms trying to support each other when they could barely support themselves with their Zimmer frames and walking sticks. During the ‘incident’, one of Espie’s friends, June, had fallen and broken her wrist. According to Theresa, June was being very stoic about it and was standing up for ‘Mum’, but her family had taken a dim view and were threatening to sue the home and go to the papers with their story.

‘Mum’s a bit of a live wire, isn’t she?’ Theresa said, creasing her face into a facsimile of a sympathetic smile.

Well, my mum is, Claire thought. I don’t know about yours. The way Theresa referred to her mother as ‘Mum’ made her skin crawl.

‘And that’s lovely,’ Theresa hurried on. ‘It’s great that she’s still so full of life. She’s a real character and very popular with the other residents. But I’m afraid she’s a bit of a disruptive influence on some of our old people.’

Oh, God, Claire thought, resisting the urge to giggle, was her mother getting expelled from a nursing home?

‘She’s only here for convalescent care so—’

‘Please don’t kick her out,’ Claire interrupted, hating that she was reduced to begging. ‘We really need this. I work full-time, and need her to be a bit more mobile before she comes home.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Theresa said, waving her hand in a calming gesture. ‘We’re not asking her to leave. If she was one of our permanent residents, we’d have to look at the situation very carefully. The welfare of our old people is paramount. However, as it’s only for another couple of weeks, I’m sure we can manage. But maybe you could have a little word with Mum? We really can’t afford a repeat of last night. Do you think you could get her to stick to the rules for the rest of her stay?’

‘Yes, I’m sure I can,’ Claire said, relieved. ‘Thank you.’ She had never imagined she would feel such abject gratitude to Theresa Byrne.

‘No problem.’ Theresa’s smile was genuine this time, so delighted was she to have the upper hand. ‘Maybe you could talk to her friends too. People mean well, but …’ She paused. ‘Does Mum have a problem?’ she asked, almost in a whisper.

‘Sorry?’

‘Mum – does she have a little problem?’

‘Well,’ Claire said, feeling confused, ‘she has a weak heart … and severe arthritis. You know that. I’d say she has a lot of problems.’

‘A drink problem?’ Theresa mouthed the words, raising her eyebrows.

‘No!’

‘No shame in it, you know,’ Theresa prodded.

‘I know, but she doesn’t have a drink problem. She enjoys a drink, like the rest of us – but it’s not a problem.’

‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Theresa said doubtfully. ‘There’s lots of help available, you know, if—’


‘Thanks,’ Claire said, standing up to go. ‘I’d better go and see her now. And thanks, too, for letting her stay.’ Theresa stood and they shook hands. ‘I’ll make sure she doesn’t break the rules for the rest of her time here.’

When she had her hand on the doorknob, Claire turned back to Theresa. ‘Her name’s Esperanza, by the way,’ she said, wishing she could say it without her hands sweating and her voice shaking.

‘Sorry?’ Theresa frowned in confusion.

‘My mum. Her name’s Esperanza. Esperanza Kennedy. But everyone calls her Espie.’


It was such a lovely day that she pushed her mother outside in her wheelchair to sit on the lawn.

‘I got a severe talking-to from Theresa about you,’ Claire told her.

‘Oh dear, am I in the doghouse?’

‘She thinks you have a drink problem.’ Claire grinned conspiratorially.

Her mother threw back her head and laughed her hearty laugh.

‘She was being all smarmy and sympathetic. Trying to get me to shop you.’

‘But you held up under questioning?’

‘I did. I gave her nothing.’

‘You’re a good daughter. I’m glad I didn’t abandon you in the forest when I was skint.’

‘Me too. Although I do sometimes wonder what my life might have been like if I’d been taken in by a kindly woodcutter who raised me as his own.’

‘Oh!’ Espie gasped, her eyes lighting up. ‘Do you think Theresa has a drink problem? People who have one are always trying to project it onto someone else.’

‘Probably. But so what if she does? She tells me there’s no shame in it.’

‘That’s all right, then. So, am I being expelled?’

‘No, but you’re on a warning. She says you’re a disruptive influence on the others.’

‘God, it’s worse than bloody school.’

‘She said someone broke their wrist last night.’

‘Yes – June. I do feel bad about that. But we were just having a bit of fun. They expect you to sit around all day drinking tea and watching some orange gobshite on TV getting people to guess the price of stuff. Or else it’s American chat shows with people crying because they’re too fat or because they’ve lost a load of weight and they’re so happy. And they call their diet a “journey”, and talk about it like it’s some kind of spiritual experience. Jesus wept! And, after all that excitement, we’re supposed to be tucked up in our beds at eight, fast asleep, just when there might be something on telly that you’d actually be interested in watching. We may be old, but we’re still people!’

‘I know, Mum, but you have to behave for the rest of your time here. You really need to be a bit better before you come home. I can’t take any more time off work and—’

‘I know, I know,’ her mother said in a conciliatory tone. ‘I’ll be good. I’ll be a model old lady for the rest of my stay, promise.’

‘Sorry. I know it’s horrible, but it’s not for much longer.’

‘It’s fine. Don’t mind me – I’m just having a rant. It’ll do you good anyway to have a break from worrying about me. I know it’s a strain on you.’

‘Anyway – good party?’

‘Excellent party. There are some really interesting people in here. I’ve made some terrific friends.’

Claire wasn’t surprised. Her mother made new friends wherever she went. She had a talent for it. ‘Mum, I was thinking of going over to London next weekend.’

‘Oh, you should!’ Espie said immediately. ‘Is there anything particular on?’

‘No, I just want to visit a … friend.’

‘One of your internet friends?’

‘Yeah,’ Claire said, jumping on the explanation gratefully. Anyway, it was true – she did know Mark from ‘the internet’.

‘It’s a great idea. It’ll do you good. Oh, there’s June now,’ Espie said, beckoning to a tall, solidly built old lady with her arm in a sling.

‘Sorry I can’t shake,’ June said, when her mother had introduced them.

‘How’s the wrist?’ Espie asked her.

‘Ah, it’s fine. Hurts a bit, but it was well worth it,’ June said staunchly. ‘I haven’t had so much fun since my son and his wife dumped me in this kip two years ago.’

‘Speaking of your son, is he going to sue?’

June snorted. ‘No fear of him. When he realised he couldn’t very well sue this place for negligence and still leave me here to rot, he backed down pretty quickly.’

‘Well, there’ll be no more booze parties in my room, I’m afraid. Theresa had a word with Claire, and apparently I’m leading you all astray. But there’s nothing to say we can’t have a tea party, is there?’

‘Nothing at all. And we don’t need booze to enjoy ourselves.’

‘Exactly. The company’s the main thing. So, my room after dinner?’

‘I’ll be there.’ June smiled.


When she left the nursing home, Claire didn’t feel like going home to read in the garden. She wanted to be with people, feeling an overwhelming need to laugh and chat and let off steam. Her brother Ronan lived nearby, so on an impulse she decided to drop in on him and Liz. They would probably be spending a day like this in the garden, and she envisaged them all sitting there, drinking cold white wine and chatting while the children ran around, periodically dragging her into games of hide-and-seek or chasing. She hadn’t seen her nephews, Adam and Ben, in a while, and she loved spending time with them. Cheered by the idea, she hopped into her car and drove the short distance to Ronan’s house.

There was no response at first when she rang the doorbell, and she assumed it was because they were in the garden. The car was in the drive, so she knew they were at home. She was just pulling her mobile from her bag to let them know she was outside, when she heard the thundering of feet in the hall, and six-year-old Adam flung open the door.

‘Claire!’ he exclaimed, a big grin lighting up his face. ‘Yay!’

‘Hi, Adam.’ She bent down to hug him. It had been a good idea to come. Adam’s welcome was just what she needed.

‘Everyone’s in the garden,’ he said, running down the hallway ahead of her to the back of the house. ‘Claire’s here!’ he yelled, bursting outside through the kitchen door.

Claire’s blood froze as she followed him – because when Adam had said ‘everyone’ was there, he’d meant everyone. Everyone except her. Ronan, Neil, Liz and Michelle were sitting around the garden table with the remnants of what looked like a very boozy lunch, while their children played football together on the grass. It was very much the idyllic scene she had pictured in her head – but without her.

The children were happy to see her, Adam and Ben and their cousins Holly and Cian all rushing up to greet her enthusiastically, imploring her to join in their game and unaware of any undercurrent. But her brothers and their wives were awkward and embarrassed. When she caught Michelle making a ‘yikes’ face at Liz, she just wanted to vaporise. Damn, she thought, trying not to cry, why had she come?

‘Claire!’ Liz said, recovering first. ‘This is a nice surprise. Sit and have a drink.’


‘No, I won’t stay,’ she said, struggling to keep her voice even. ‘I was just passing and I thought I’d pop in and say hi.’

‘Come on,’ Ronan said, standing and pulling out a chair for her. ‘Have a drink. Were you in with Mum?’

‘Yes.’ She walked slowly towards the table. If she ran off now, she would look pathetic. ‘I won’t have any wine, thanks,’ she said to Liz, who was passing her a glass. ‘I have the car.’

‘You could have a half-glass? Or a spritzer?’

‘I’ll just have some mineral water,’ she said, spotting a bottle.

Michelle poured her a glass and passed it to her.

‘Have you eaten?’ Liz asked, surveying the table. ‘There’s not much left but—’

‘I’m fine, thanks. I’m not hungry.’ She buried her face in her glass, gulping water to stop herself crying. Her throat ached. Why couldn’t they have invited her? She could have done with this today. She felt so unwanted, like an outsider in her own family.

‘We decided to do this at the last minute,’ Liz said, as if sensing how she felt. ‘It was such a gorgeous day. You have to strike while the iron’s hot in this country, don’t you?’

‘We’d have asked you if we’d planned it,’ Ronan said.

‘It’s fine,’ she said, dredging up a smile. The last thing she wanted was to let them see how hurt she was. ‘I was kind of busy today anyway.’

‘Besides, she probably wouldn’t have wanted to come,’ Michelle said to Ronan, as if Claire wasn’t there. ‘I remember when I was single, the last thing I wanted to do was hang out with a bunch of couples.’

Jesus! Claire couldn’t believe she was playing the couples card. Was Michelle actually suggesting that she needed a date to spend time with her own family?

‘How is Espie?’ Michelle asked.

‘She’s fine – in great form.’ Claire wasn’t about to enlighten Michelle on her mother’s misdemeanours. They didn’t get on, and the whole incident would probably end up as an anecdote in Michelle’s column – spun so that it would read as yet one more example of what Michelle had to put up with as a long-suffering daughter-in-law.

‘God, I haven’t been in to see her at all yet,’ Neil said. ‘It’s so busy at work. I suppose we might as well wait until she’s home now,’ he said to Michelle.

‘Well, she’s there for two more weeks,’ Claire said.

‘I want to go and see Granny!’ Holly yelled, as she ran past, chasing a ball.

‘We’re going in tomorrow, aren’t we?’ Ronan consulted Liz, who nodded.

‘We should all go and give Claire a break,’ Michelle said, smiling kindly at Claire. ‘You’ve been visiting every day, haven’t you?’

‘Yeah, but I don’t mind.’ She wanted to tell Michelle that spending time with her mother wasn’t an irksome chore on a par with grocery shopping or doing the ironing, but she gritted her teeth and said nothing.

‘Well, you can have a day off tomorrow,’ Michelle said. ‘We’ll take over and you can have a nice rest.’

Claire was relieved when the children started nagging her to play with them again, happy to let them pull her away to bounce with them on the trampoline.


She felt weary and ground down by the time she got to Luca’s. His friendly face and sweet, welcoming smile were balm to her battered soul, and she was sorry she hadn’t come back earlier. In fact, she was sorry she’d ever left his bed that morning. Now that she was there, she was desperate for him to put his arms around her, aching for him to hold her and kiss her. The longing to feel close to someone had become almost a physical pain.

‘Have you eaten?’ he asked, when they got inside. ‘Do you want to—’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry. Could we just …’ She nodded to the bedroom.

‘Get right down to it? Sure.’

‘It’s just I haven’t had any time with you today so …’ She would scream if he didn’t put his arms around her in the next ten seconds, but she couldn’t exactly tell him that. ‘Do you mind?’

‘No, of course not.’ He frowned at her in concern. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ She had forgotten how intensely Luca could look at you – like he could see right into you. She was unable to hold his gaze. ‘I just don’t want to waste any more time.’

He continued to study her face for another minute, and she could only hope she didn’t look as close to the edge as she felt. ‘Okay, no problem,’ he said finally. Then he sauntered into the bedroom and Claire followed him.

She expected him to pull her into his arms as soon as they went in, but to her consternation, he sat on the edge of the bed, leaving her standing by the window.

He leaned back on his hands and gazed up at her. ‘Take your clothes off,’ he said.

‘What?’ she breathed, her voice barely audible.

‘Your clothes,’ he said, his eyes glittering. ‘Take them off.’

She drew a breath to protest, but checked herself when she saw the implacable glint in his eyes and understood. This was a lesson. It was what she was here for, after all, wasn’t it? Blushing furiously, she grabbed her top by the hem and pulled it over her head. She willed him to close the distance between them and do the rest for her.

‘Go on.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Keep going,’ he said, nodding at her bra.

Oh, shit. He wasn’t going to meet her halfway. She really couldn’t cope with this, today of all days. She felt dangerously close to tears. ‘I can’t,’ she said.

‘You can’t? How do you get undressed at night when I’m not there?’

She threw him an angry look. ‘You know what I mean. I can’t just stand here and strip in cold blood while you watch.’ She sighed, hanging her head. ‘I’m shy. What’s wrong with that? Why does everyone have to be sassy and—’

‘There’s nothing wrong with it,’ he interrupted her. ‘I happen to find it really sweet – and quite a turn-on, actually. I like shy girls.’ He grinned. ‘It’s so much fun overcoming their inhibitions.’

‘Well, then—’

He sat up, eyeballing her. ‘But what I like doesn’t matter, does it? What turns me on is neither here nor there. It’s not me you’re trying to impress.’

‘Oh. I suppose not.’

‘No. So …’ He looked at her expectantly.

Claire sighed. She would just have to get this over with – the quicker the better, like ripping off a plaster. It would be worth it to be wrapped in Luca’s arms again. She yanked open the button of her jeans and started hurriedly pulling down the zip as she kicked off her shoes.

‘Claire?’

‘Yes?’ She stopped.

‘It’s not against the clock, sweetheart.’ He leaned back again. ‘Do it slowly. And start with your bra.’

Reluctantly she reached around and unclasped her bra. Even though she kept her gaze on the floor, she could feel his eyes burning into her.

‘Hey!’ he said softly. ‘Look at me.’

She forced herself to meet his eyes, trying not to squirm as she slid the straps down her arms and pulled off her bra, fighting the urge to cover herself with her hands. His eyes dropped to her breasts, lingering there before returning to her face. ‘And try not to look like you’re being tortured.’


She glanced away again as she felt tears stinging the backs of her eyes. She couldn’t let him see. But this was torture. She felt so humiliated, and he was so cold and distant. Surely being with someone like this shouldn’t feel so lonely.

‘You have nothing to be ashamed of,’ he was saying gently. ‘You have a beautiful body. You’re a gorgeous, sexy woman and it makes me hard just looking at you.’

She pulled the zip of her jeans down slowly. She knew he meant to encourage her, and she tried to take in what he was saying, but she felt so out of it. She hung her head, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face as she felt a tear escape and slide down her cheek.

‘Claire?’

Not thinking, she looked up instinctively at the sound of her name.

‘Jesus, are you crying?’ Luca was clearly horrified. In an instant he was off the bed and pulling her into his arms.

She couldn’t help the sob that escaped her then, and could no longer hold back the tears as Luca led her to the bed and pulled her into his lap.

‘God, I’m so sorry,’ he said, ‘I’m such an arsehole.’ He stroked her back soothingly as she cried.

Claire curled into him, burying her head in his neck. It was a relief to let go.

‘Ssh,’ Luca whispered, while his warm hand rubbed up and down her spine comfortingly.

‘I’m sorry, I’m being stupid,’ she said finally, brushing away her tears.

‘No, you’re not. I f*cked up. You should have stopped me. Why didn’t you say something? I didn’t know I was upsetting you that much.’

‘It wasn’t your fault.’ She sniffed. ‘I just had kind of a lousy day and—’

‘And my prickish ways were the last straw? I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.’

‘No, you were right. That’s what I’m paying you for. I told you not to go easy on me.’ She gave a rueful laugh. ‘Well, that wasn’t very sexy, was it – bursting into tears in the middle of a striptease? Maybe we should start again from the top.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘I’ll try again,’ she said, pushing him away so she could get up.

‘No!’ His arms tightened around her. ‘Hey, we’re not turning you into a machine here. You don’t have to be up for sex all the time.’ He stroked her hair away from her face, brushed away the last of the tears. ‘I’m sure even Hugh Hefner has his days when he’s not in the mood.’

‘Really?’ she asked sceptically.

‘Okay, maybe not Hugh Hefner,’ he smiled, ‘but normal people.’

This was the best she’d felt all day, Claire realised, all the stress and misery melting away as she laid her head on Luca’s shoulder while his hand ran soothingly over the bare skin of her back.

‘Um, Claire?’ he said eventually.

‘Mm?’

‘Maybe you should put your top back on.’

‘Oh.’ She lifted her head.

‘It really is making me hard looking at you,’ he said, with an apologetic wince, glancing down at her naked breasts crushed against him. ‘And I can’t not look. I’m a guy – I’m genetically programmed to look at tits if they’re on show.’

‘Okay.’ She scrambled off him reluctantly and crossed the room to pick up her top, putting it on with her back to him. When she turned around, he had moved and was reclining on the bed, propped up against the headboard. She faltered, unnerved at finding herself across the room from him again and wondering how she was going to get back into his arms. But he made it easy for her, holding them open wide. When she dived onto the bed, he brought her close into the warmth of his body.

‘Better?’ he asked, smiling at her.

She nodded.

‘Do you want to tell me about your lousy day?’

‘Maybe later.’

He sighed, pulling her into his side and stroking her arm. ‘We’re going to have to work on your communication skills.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You have a hard time saying what you want. You need to work on being more vocal, telling me what you need, so I don’t f*ck up like I did just now.’

‘I told you, it’s not your fault.’

‘I should have picked up on the signals. I thought there was something off when you came in. But it’s not always easy to tell what you want. For instance, right now I don’t know if you want me here or if you’d rather be left alone.’

No, I want you here,’ she said, wrapping her arms tighter around him. ‘If you don’t mind, that is.’ It suddenly occurred to her that maybe he’d like a night off. He could have easy, uncomplicated sex with a normal girl who wouldn’t freak out about taking her clothes off in front of him. ‘I mean, it’s Saturday night. You’d usually be out, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yeah, out on the prowl,’ he said, making wolfish eyes at her.

‘Well, if you want to do that, I could go.’

‘I don’t need to go out picking up women when I’ve got you,’ he said, giving her a squeeze. ‘I told you – I like sex, I don’t want a girlfriend. This arrangement suits me just fine.’

She smiled, nestling closer, hugely relieved that he wasn’t going to ditch her. How strange that Luca should be the first person that day not to let her down. She’d never expected him to be so nice when they’d started this – so kind.

‘You probably think you’re transparent, but you’re not,’ he said. ‘And you can’t always expect a guy to read your mind. You need to be able to say what you want. Like tonight, you didn’t want sex and that’s cool. But you weren’t able to communicate that to me. If I’d known, I’d never have—’

‘But I did.’

‘Did what, sweetheart?’

‘I did … want sex,’ she said in a small voice. ‘Just not – not like that. Before, you always—’

‘I took your clothes off. I initiated everything.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I thought we could move forward. But it was too soon. I shouldn’t have rushed you. You weren’t ready, and I’m sorry.’

She sighed contentedly, revelling in the comfort of his arms around her, the warmth of his body next to hers.

‘So you wanted to have sex tonight?’

‘Yes. But I wanted you to …’

‘Tell me,’ he urged.

‘I like it when you take my clothes off,’ she murmured, looking up at him from under her lashes.

‘And I love doing it,’ he said with a grin. ‘So you wanted me to undress you. What else?’

‘I wanted you to kiss me.’

He bent down and gave her a soft, wet kiss, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. ‘What else?’

‘Well … I wanted to have sex.’

‘How exactly?’

She frowned at him in confusion.

‘Tell me what you want me to do.’

She blushed, reaching for words that wouldn’t come. She shook her head defeatedly.

‘Okay,’ he said, smiling down at her, ‘You’re feeling fragile tonight, so I’m not going to make you say anything. You can just nod, okay? Or shake your head.’

‘Okay.’ She nodded.

‘Do you want me to go down on you?’ he asked, his eyes on hers.

Claire buried her face in his chest and nodded furiously.


‘You want me to make you come with my tongue? And my fingers?’

She nodded again.

‘Anything else?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘This.’ She reached down and put a hand over his erection.

‘You want me inside you?’ he asked, his voice husky.

She lifted her head and nodded, looking at him.

He smiled at her. ‘There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?’ He kissed her forehead. ‘And the best thing about vocalising is that it’s so rewarding.’ A warm hand slid up under her top to cup her breast as he leaned in to kiss her again. ‘Ask and you shall receive.’