‘What time is it?’ I ask.

He swivels his head at the alarm clock by the bedside. ‘Nearly four.’

So the night is all gone and it is almost time to leave. I sigh.

‘Can I use your shower before I go?’ I ask softly. I reek of sex.

‘Sure,’ he agrees. ‘There’s a clean bathrobe hanging behind the door.’

He watches me get out of bed. I walk away feeling sore between my legs. The bathroom carries the same décor as the rest of the house. There is a pale pistachio wall with a massive mirror encased in an ornate creamy lemon frame. I use the bathroom, ooh, sore, and get into the shower. I switch it on and adjust the temperature setting before I step into the rush.

I close my eyes and turn my face up to the water cascade. I try not to think. It cannot be over. Our time together flew by too quickly. How could something so wonderful be over? Suddenly, I become aware that the shower door is open. I twist around and Noah steps into the cubicle.

I watch the water pouring down his face.

He doesn’t say anything, but simply puts his hand to the back of my head and swoops down on my mouth. Unresisting, I flow into his arms, my body yielding to the hard planes of his. His insistent mouth parts my shaking lips and sends wild tremors through my body. The rest of the world falls silent and becomes nothing while I cling to him as the only solid thing in my shifting world.

The whole night he has avoided kissing me and I thought it was because he didn’t want to, but this kiss is hot and full of a kind of wild desperation. Like a condemned man who decides to gamble his life on a game of Russian roulette.

His tongue invades my mouth and I suck on it.

He pulls away from me and we stare at each other. His eyes are blazing and his jaw is clenched so tight I feel a spark of fear. Before I can ask him what is wrong, he turns away and walks out of the shower cubicle.

Wrapped in his bathrobe I venture cautiously into the bedroom. He is not there, but he has brought my clothes up and laid them on a throne-like red velvet armchair. I dress quickly. He has also put a hairdryer out and I use it. I pick his hairbrush and run it through my hair. It feels strange. I have never used anyone else’s brush in my hair before. Probably because I’ve never been allowed to stay at a friend’s for a sleepover, or pajama party.

Stepping in my shoes I go downstairs. He is in the living room, holding a glass of something amber.

‘Thanks for bringing my clothes up,’ I say shyly.

He lifts the glass in my direction in acknowledgment of my words.

‘I guess I should be going.’

‘I’ve called someone to take you back,’ he says quietly.

‘No, that won’t be necessary. I really should call a taxi.’

‘You’re either leaving with my guy or you’re not leaving at all. Take your pick.’ His voice is hard and unyielding.

‘Look, if I happen to meet someone I know, it is better if I am in a taxi. I don’t want to get anybody in trouble.’

‘Don’t worry. Sam will be driving a taxi.’

‘Oh, is he a taxi driver?’

‘No.’

‘Right.’

‘Do you want a drink?’

I shake my head. ‘I want to keep my wits about me.’

He nods. ‘Good idea.’

‘I’ve had a … really good time. Thank you.’

He drains his glass and pours himself another. He downs that one too and stares at me as he does it.

‘What time is Sam coming?’ I ask, fidgeting nervously.

‘Soon.’

‘Okay. I’ll have a glass with you.’

Silently he pours us both a drink and brings mine to me.

‘We should drink to something.’

He raises a cynical eyebrow.

I raise my glass. ‘Here’s to happy lives for both of us.’

‘Happy lives,’ he echoes, an odd edge to his voice.

We knock it back. He turns away from me and walks towards the bottle.

‘What will you do today?’ I ask into the awkward silence. He is so distant, so cold, it is impossible to imagine that it is the same man who licked ice cream off my body while I giggled like a schoolgirl. Or the man who came into the shower and kissed me like I was the most precious thing he’d ever had.

He shrugs. ‘Sleep. You?’

Talk about short answers. I can play the same game. I grimace. ‘Boring stuff.’

His phone vibrates and he goes rock still. Something happens inside my body when I watch him pick it up and put it to his ear.

‘Yeah, she’ll be out now,’ he says.

I want to touch him. I want to kiss him. I want our goodbye to be different. I feel … oh, God … I can’t …

I don’t want to leave him.