‘That’s better,’ he whispered, pulling me close again. There was a difference now – a hard
difference, pressed up against my belly. He slicked back my hair and kissed my forehead, then my nose, then my lips. Water surged around our joined mouths, some of it trickling inside, but we didn’t care. We were back where we belonged and nothing could distract us from that.
Chapter Ten
Once we had kissed for so long the pads of our fingers were wrinkled like raisins, we came back into the world and stepped out of the shower.
Sunk on the sofa, with him in a dressing gown and me in a towel, we held each other in silence until at last he picked up the brandy he’d poured himself and took a sip.
‘So,’ he said.
The tiny, innocuous word was like a doom knell, breaking the enchantment. My chest tightened.
He looked at me. He wanted me to answer the question before he asked it. But what was the question?
‘So,’ I repeated nervously.
‘Did he hurt you?’
I had the feeling he wanted me to say yes. He wanted anything that might have happened to have been non-consensual. But he had no right to want it and I had no right to lie to make things easier for me, so I took a breath and shook my head.
‘Did you…did he…I mean…how far did it go?’
‘Not far,’ I said. ‘We didn’t have sex. I mean…not properly. Not…’
‘I don’t think I want to know,’ he said, then: ‘Would you have done?’
‘I…to be honest, I hadn’t really thought it through.’
He made a sound, half exasperation and half satisfaction and treated the ceiling to his best eye-roll.
‘I know that sounds lame,’ I said. ‘I suppose I was hoping I could just get him really drunk so he’d spill some beans and then fall straight to sleep.’
‘And if he didn’t? How do you know what kind of drunk Keane is? From what I hear, he has pretty formidable tolerance to alcohol. He’d drink you under the table for a start. And under the covers – easily. Christ, when I think…’
He clutched his head.
‘But it’s OK,’ I said, really hoping it was. ‘Nothing like that happened in the end.’
‘Pure luck,’ said Tom angrily. He dashed down some brandy, then said, more quietly, ‘Did you want it to?’
‘No. I don’t like him. I don’t want to be his…I don’t know. Sex slave, or whatever he had in mind. He wanted me to sign a contract, you know. Was going to make an appointment tomorrow with his lawyer.’
‘Fucking hell. Would you have signed it?’
‘Depends what it said. Oh, I don’t know, Tom. I had no idea what was going on with you. For all I knew, I was never going to see you again. Why not take this chance to bring down the man you’d worked so hard to expose? Was it such a terrible thing to do?’
He put down his drink and clasped one hand in mine, tightly, our fingers twining hard so the bones jammed together.
‘It was a stupid, dangerous and mad thing to do,’ he said.
I looked down at my lap, tears pooling in my eyes again.
‘But I kind of admire you for it,’ he said quietly. ‘Perhaps you need to reconsider your commitment to sub-editing.’
I smiled through dazzled eyes.
‘You think?’