‘I’ll be changing it soon, making it more homely.’
‘Good. This room doesn’t suit you.’
They stood awkwardly, a silence stretching. She could see he would leave soon if she didn’t break the ice and say something more meaningful.
‘Would you like a drink?’
He handed her the bottle. ‘Only if you are and only if you’re able.’
She knew he was asking her if she was capable of having a drink without it leading to a dependency. She didn’t know the answer to that, as she hadn’t tested herself for a while, but she felt safe enough in his company to try.
‘It’s nearly Christmas. I’d like to have a drink with a friend.’
He took his black coat off. Wearing a dark grey shirt tucked into black tailored trousers and a silver-grey tie he looked sophisticated and somewhat remote. ‘If you fetch a bottle opener I’ll do the honours.’
With lightness in her step she quickly fetched glasses and a corkscrew from the kitchen, stopping to check her appearance in the hall mirror on the way. Her face was flushed, framed by wispy tendrils of hair that had come loose from her ponytail, but at least it was clean and she smelled fresh. She discarded her coat and took off her blouse, leaving her wearing only a cream T-shirt and jeans. He was studying the painting when she returned.
‘A present?’ he asked.
‘Yes. It’s Potiphar’s wife. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’
Nathan studied it some more. ‘She looks a little desperate to me, hanging on to his clothes like that.’
‘She’s letting him know she wants him,’ Alex explained, without any real knowledge of the painting. She had yet to look up the history of Potiphar’s wife.
‘Is it a present from your boyfriend?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t have a boyfriend. Not any more.’
He raised his eyebrow at this. ‘So it did end .?.?. I wondered after the party that night .?.?.’
She took a sip of the red wine he handed her and knew she had to say something. ‘I wouldn’t have asked you out if it hadn’t ended.’
‘I’m sorry about that,’ he quickly said. ‘I should have explained. It’s difficult .?.?. I—’
‘—have a girlfriend,’ she quickly finished for him, not wanting to hear why he had rejected her and feel embarrassed all over again.
‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘That’s the bit that’s difficult to explain.’ He stared around the room at everything but her, and she realised it was he who was embarrassed. Even as she moved closer, he avoided looking at her. It was only when she reached out to touch him that his eyes finally met hers, and there was so much need in their depths it was harrowing.
‘I’ve never had a girlfriend. No girl has ever asked me out before. When I was sixteen I developed a crush on a girl and I knew the only way she would talk to me was if I were in with a group of other lads. I targeted the boys I would become friends with, boys less clever than me, who I hinted to that I could help with their homework. Very quickly I became part of a group, and soon after I got to talk to her.’
He paused, clearly reflecting on that time.
‘I couldn’t believe my luck. She was actually going to go out with me. Our first date was in a park in the evening when no one was around and we sat on the swings, holding hands for hours. Our second date was on an alley wall, not far from her house, and again we sat for hours chatting.’ He smiled, but there was little humour in his eyes. ‘You’re waiting for the punchline, aren’t you? Our third date was in her bed. We got undressed and were lying close to each other. We hadn’t kissed yet and I badly wanted to. She suddenly rolled onto her front and said to me, could I do it to her from behind because she couldn’t look at my face. After it was over, disgusted with myself, I quickly dressed and scarpered. A few of the lads were at the end of the street sitting on the alley wall. They asked what I’d been up to and I of course said, “Nothing.” They laughed and jeered and they said they didn’t believe me. They said they knew exactly what I’d been up to because they had paid for it.
‘The ironic thing was they thought they were real friends. They knew I liked her and they paid her to have sex with me.’
She put a hand up and gently clasped his blemished cheek, and his head turned sharply away. His voice was heavy with emotion. ‘Don’t feel sorry for me, Alex. It’s more than I can bear.’
She put her glass of wine down and then placed her free hand on his other cheek and turned his face towards her so that he couldn’t look away. ‘I don’t feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for me. I want you .?.?. and you don’t seem to want me back.’
He stared at her for long seconds, staring deeply into her eyes to see if she was telling him the truth, and then with a groan he dragged her into his arms. His first kiss was no slow approach and his arms were confident as they wrapped around her. He may not have had a girlfriend before, but it didn’t show in his performance as he hungrily explored her lips and mouth. His strong hands pressed her close against him and it was his lean body she felt. He wasn’t as thin as he seemed, but muscular and toned.
She was trembling badly and knew it was only the support of his arms that kept her on her feet.
‘Will you let me make love to you?’ he whispered fiercely, looking intently into her eyes.
She couldn’t speak. She was beyond words. Her answer was in the kiss she gave him. In his safe arms she was carried to her bed and with an unbelievable sensitivity Nathan Bell made love for the first time in his life.
*
She stood by her bedroom window and gazed at his dark hair and beautifully curved back. His skin was smooth and unblemished. He had been sleeping deeply for several hours, but she was not surprised. The emotions wrung out of him had left him exhausted. It was over in a matter of seconds. She had encouraged him to let go, knowing that he would learn control and be better the second time. And he was. She hoped she pleased him as much as he pleased her.
He was stirring and she saw him slowly become aware that she was not beside him in the bed. His head and shoulders lifted off the pillow as he searched for her, and the heat in his eyes when they fixed on her made her almost dizzy. ‘Come back to bed,’ he whispered.
She was conscious of smelling slightly musty and feeling unclean from all the sex, and felt she should wash. ‘Let me shower first,’ she said softly.
He shook his head from side to side. ‘No, you’ll wash away your beautiful smell and I’m only just getting to know it.’
Feeling an instant heat buck her insides and a heaviness sweep through her thighs, she slowly walked back to the bed.
Chapter thirty-six
‘The tyre impression left on Lillian Armstrong’s jacket was a Pirelli 205/45 R17. But as I said, thousands of cars are fitted with these tyres. The chances are, many of the cars in that car park are fitted with these tyres – there are certainly enough sports cars parked in there.’