Private Lives

His hand brushed the thin spaghetti straps of her dress off her shoulders, one and then the other, so that the flimsy fabric slid down over her slim body and rustled to the floor.

She was naked except for her thong and heels. He stole a glance, wondering if she had ever looked so forbidden and exotic, then held her waist as she arched her back, teasing each ripened nipple between his lips as she gasped in pleasure.

His own arousal was unbearable. With his free hand he unbuckled his belt and slid down the zip of his trousers. Carla drew herself up, her lean, Pilates-honed torso as strong and elegant as a ballet dancer’s.

‘Jonas,’ he muttered as her fingers unfastened his shirt buttons. ‘He’ll hear us.’

‘Media room. Soundproofed,’ she said, raking her fingernails across his chest.

Their kisses were more urgent now. They stumbled back on to a two-seater sofa at the back of the room, the soles of her shoes crunching stray balls of popcorn underfoot. Matt kicked off his trousers and boxer shorts.

Carla lay back, propped up by some expensive-looking cushions, and parted her thighs, and he slotted his body between them, a perfect fit, as if they were made for each other. Her fingers pushed the wisp of thong to one side, and he guided himself inside her, slowly at first, but as she hooked one leg around him, he pushed deeper, groaning as they moved as one, in, out, together.

Somewhere in the back of his consciousness, he couldn’t remember married sex ever being this good. Nor could he reconcile the brittle, frosty ex-wife with this hot, responsive woman. When she came, he felt her whole body tremble. Then he felt it too, white-hot electric desire pushing him closer and closer to the edge, and then a sweet release deep inside her.

They lay motionless for a few moments, listening to the sound of their breathing slowing, regulating, and then he pulled himself out of her.

‘Not bad for a pair of thirty-something parents,’ he smiled, collapsing back on to the opposite end of the sofa.

‘I need another drink,’ she said, laughing.

He said nothing.

The silence vibrated between them, and then she touched her fingers against his, as if willing him to say something.

‘I should go,’ he said quietly, putting his palm over the top of her hand.

She slid it out, her body pulling away from him.

‘I didn’t think that was your style,’ she sniffed.

He felt a stab of guilt for all the other one-night stands he’d had over the last three years. The post-coital excuses he had made to other women he knew he could not commit to. But this was different.

‘What do you suggest, Carla?’ he said quietly. ‘That I stay the night? That Jonas wakes up in the morning and sees us there, together in bed, as if the last three years hasn’t even happened?’

‘I’d prefer that to you getting up and walking out of the door the second after you’ve come inside me.’

He inhaled sharply, then looked at her.

‘I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect this.’

Her face softened.

‘Me neither.’ She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on top of them.

His son’s words reverberated around Matt’s head: Are you and Mum friends again? He owed her more than this.

‘Maybe we should go out for dinner,’ he said without thinking.

‘We go to Ibiza tomorrow. But we could do something when we get back. The time, the space might do us good. Give us time to think.’

She tipped her head to one side, her blond hair cascading over her bare shoulder, and smiled so adorably that he felt himself start to get hard again.

He nodded his approval.

‘You don’t regret what we just did?’ she said softly.

‘That was the best sex since . . . since you,’ he said truthfully. In fact it had been incredible, and that was what scared him.