Two weeks into January and the time in the hot tub in Toronto and New Year’s with Max in Times Square seemed like a decade ago. The sky over London remained just a single shade of grey and most of my colleagues’ moods remained an uncolourful shade of black. Students returned from time with families or friends and launched themselves into all the work they’d neglected to do over Christmas, and with exams and deadlines looming, my admin job became more like an agony aunt’s.

I’d spent four nights with Max in New York. He’d booked us a hotel suite near to Clyde and Lewis and we’d managed time with them as well as found chances to be by ourselves with no interruptions from work or friends or family. As much as I’d tried to keep what I was feeling in a neat compartmentalised box with the label of ‘amazing sex’ written prettily on the top, I knew I was failing miserably.

When we were alone, his professional, intelligent lawyer persona would now fall away completely and he’d turn into a teasing, playful man-beast who treated me as if I was his prized possession. And I let him.

I stuffed three student files back in the cabinet and locked it shut as my phone began ringing with the tone I’d allocated to Max. I’d handed my notice in two days ago, with the promise of staying on until they’d found a suitable replacement. My grandfather’s legacy had been paid out and there was absolutely no reason not to solely focus on my doctorate, which is what he would’ve wanted more than anything else. I grabbed my phone and collapsed down in my seat.

“Good afternoon,” I said quietly, not wanting Carol or the professor currently in her office to overhear. “And what can I do for my favourite flower-sending lawyer this grim London day?”

“Does that mean you want me to send you flowers?” he said, sounding surprised. “I hadn’t thought of that. Shit. I’m sorry, Feisty, I’ve got a lot to learn about this sometimes.”

Now I was confused. “You sent roses to my office this morning. Red ones with Baby’s Breath mixed in.”

I heard what I thought was a low growl. “They’re not from me, Victoria. Where were they from?”

I looked for the card in the midst of the blooms. “Flores by Flora. Are you sure—no, stupid question. I’ll move them. If they’re not from you, I’m properly creeped out.”

There was silence for a moment. “Take a photo of them and send it me. I know the florist—it’s around the corner from the law department. I’ll go in and see if I can find out who sent them. Then I’ll have words with him.”

“Okay,” I said, starting to feel both concerned and needing a shower. “There’s no note on the card apart from my name. Honestly, Max, I don’t know who they’re from.”

His voice was low and like velvet. “Vic, you’re beautiful and amazing and other men are going to notice you. That’s never going to be something I’m going to be mad at so take that apologetic tone out of your voice. I’m not about to beat any one up, unless Seph has sent them, in which case his ass will be more than toast. I am going to take you out to lunch though.”

I looked at the pile of filing that needed doing and the list of what needed uploading to the student area. It was potentially going to be a long working day but lunch with my mountain of a man sounded perfect.

My man.

I pushed consideration of the determiner back into the ‘amazing sex’ box and added to my to do list the need to potentially relabel it at some point in the near future because if I thought this was just amazing sex I was lying to myself and that was something I tried not to do.

“I’ll let you,” I said. “As long as it’s brie, bacon and cranberry paninis from Jojo’s. With a latte and possibly some banana bread.”

Max had a low, delicious chuckle that made my girl parts turn to a liquid mess and my nipples resemble bullets. The sound of it almost caused me to change my demand to that of going back to his apartment for half an hour of quick satisfying sex but we’d done that yesterday and I was trying to control my addiction to his cock, even though he was more than happy to feed it.

“Just to let you know, I don’t for one minute think I have any sort of power in this relationship.”

“As long as you know your place,” I said.

There was the chuckle again. “I have a few places.” He was keeping his words deliberately quiet so I figured he was walking through reception. “On top, beneath, between your legs, behind you… tell me, Victoria, which place would you like me in now?”

“Maxwell?”

“Feisty?”

“I’d like your ass over here pronto because I’m fucking starving.”

It took him half an hour to do a trip that was usually less than ten minutes, especially when he was on a mission. By the look on his face, I guessed he’d stopped at the florists on the way. He looked pissed and as soon as he laid eyes on me I felt the need he was emitting.

“Stop,” I said, pulling on my coat and stepping from behind the desk to put my arms around him. My heels were a pair of my highest which brought my lips closer to his chin. “The flowers are in Carol’s office. I’m here with you. So you can stop with the alpha one level of possession that you’re radiating right now.”

“It’s your favourite student.”

“Sorry?”

“Who sent you the flowers. I called in Flora’s and spoke to Hayley who owns the place. It was a man who came in yesterday who paid cash. Tall, thin, glasses. Didn’t speak much apart from to say that his girlfriend worked in admin in the law department and he needed to apologise for being away over Christmas,” Max said, his hands spanning my waist and part of my ass.

“Sorry? Favourite student? You mean Peter Coffey?” I frowned and felt slightly nauseous.

“He fits Hayley’s description, Vic. I don’t like him: he gives off strange vibes,” Max said, relaxing his hold and switching to guide me out of the office. “I know you’re staying on till they’ve replaced you, but would you be able to work from home a bit more?”

I glanced up at him and saw the conflict on his face. He’d told me when we were in New York that he wasn’t used to feeling possessive and jealous. It made me feel all sorts of special, especially as when we were in public or even with his family he hid his feelings to a large extent. He’d also soliloquised on how he was worried I’d find his alpha male tendencies a turn-off, given that I was as stubborn and strong-minded as he was.

Afterwards, when we were back in our hotel room, I’d tied him to the bed with my bikini tops and kept him on the brink of orgasm while I got myself off three times. Then I’d let him break free, unleashing the incredible hulk as he flipped me onto my front, held down my hands as he filled me with his cock. His words had been the dirtiest I’d heard and resulted in one of the hotel staff knocking on the door to ask us to keep the noise down.

“Max, it’s okay to be concerned about me. I know that’s why you asked that, so don’t be so worried.” I slipped my hand into his. “I may start doing that anyway, but the first thing I’m going to do is confront him. If he thinks I’m his girlfriend, I need to put him straight.”

“Can I make a comment that you won’t like and say make sure you have someone else with you when you do,” Max said, pulling me closer into him.

It was cold and the wind was bitter.

“You can and know I was going to anyway. I’ll probably ask him to come in to see Carol. She likes the flowers but she’ll be more than a bit worried when she hears who sent them. Let’s talk about something else.”

We entered Jojo’s and squashed onto the end of a table. I loved Amelie’s café but I needed to go there when I had a couple of hours to spare, although I had taken to longer working lunches so I could pour over my thesis and drink her coffee. On days like today, the small greasy spoon we’d found worked well and the main waitress was rather keen on Max, so we tended to get preferential service.

“Something else,” he said, his face relaxing. I nudged his leg with my foot, half wishing I’d made the suggestion to go back to his for a different sort of lunch. “It’s Marie’s birthday this weekend and she’s asked us all round to their house in Oxford. She’s explicitly mentioned you coming with me. Would you like to?”

“Would you have asked me if she hadn’t ‘explicitly mentioned’ me?”

“You should’ve been a lawyer,” he said.

I wanted to lean over the table and kiss away the stern look.

Max watched me carefully. “Max,” I said. “You know that would never happen. Yes, I’d like to come with you. I need a few more details for the weekend so I know what to pack.”

“Clothes?” he said, looking boyishly puzzled. “There are hot tubs so a bikini, but one that covers you up so I don’t have to punch Seph’s lights out.”

“Okay, clothes. Anything posh?”

“No. The only place we’ll go to if we leave the house is the local pub, so you’ll need something to wear on your feet down muddy paths. I’ll buy you a pair of Hunters if you don’t have any. Warm stuff. And that new underwear I caught sight of last week.” His grin was now devilishly persuasive.

“I can do that. Why don’t you stay with me tonight and I can give you a sneak preview?”

“Fuck, I have to visit the house after work and I promised Ava I’d buy her dinner. After that? Or why don’t you pack tonight and take everything round to mine that you need for the next few days? I’ve offered to have poker night at mine tomorrow as Vanessa’s gran’s staying and last time she was there for poker night she pretty much cleaned up.”

I started to laugh disbelievingly. “That’s a joke. She didn’t! You’re just trying to make me laugh!”

He shook his head. “Seriously, she took the lot. Vanessa didn’t tell Jackson beforehand that her gran was a known card shark in her local pub. I’m not sure Jackson’s actually forgiven her for that. So we’re hiding out at mine, if you can put up with us.”

“Doesn’t Seph usually sleep where he falls on poker nights?”

“I’ll make sure he knows not to fall anywhere near you.”

I put my hand on his and interlaced our fingers. We’d agreed that Seph possibly had a slight crush on me after he’d bought me his favourite ever book to read as a belated Christmas gift. I’d given him a chaste kiss and a big thank you and persuaded Max to one, not kill him and two, to not tell the rest of his siblings. Then I’d given him a blow job of pornographic proportions and so far Max had neither done nor said anything.

“I’ll see you at yours then. Your spare room will probably be taken over with my stuff.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see why you don’t just start leaving your stuff there anyway.” The look he gave was a cauldron full of emotions and feelings and now wasn’t the time to go there—if there was ever going to be a time. I’d filled in my application for Johns Hopkins two days ago, as soon as Lewis had let me know that the vacancy was available. I hadn’t told Max.

I didn’t know how to.

“I’m not sure,” Marie said, peering into the bag. “He must’ve had some help choosing this. I mean, in more than thirty years of being married he’s never bought me underwear, so which one of you helped? For a start, he wouldn’t have had a clue what size to get.” She glared at the five of us, her hand in the Victoria’s Secret bag as if she was about to pull out a gun. “If it’s crotchless, I’m going to accuse one of the boys.”

“Please, for the love of god, let it be crotchless,” Claire said. “I need to experience watching them gain some insight into our parents’ relationship and know that it involves crotchless panties. Or maybe edible?” She rested her hand on her growing belly. “Whoever helped Dad with this can have this child named after them.”

Marie pulled the garments out of the bag and examined a pretty underwear set that had definitely been well chosen. “It’s even the right size,” she said. “Confess. If one of you confesses, I’ll go show the boys what he got me.”

We exchanged looks, no words said. I had no idea who had done Grant’s shopping for him, although I knew full well who had done Max’s. He’d remembered on poker night that he’d not bought a present. Luckily, London shops rarely shut and I’d made a quick trip to Oxford Road with Max’s credit card.

“It was kind of me,” Payton said, running a hand through ridiculously gorgeous blonde hair. “But I didn’t choose. I took Dad shopping although I needed an extra counselling session after going in Victoria’s Secret with him. He might have made a few comments about the models needing to eat a few dinners or something like that.”

Marie’s eyes narrowed at her daughter. “Did you tell him my size?”

She shook her head rather like a chastised child. “No, but I told him to go in your underwear drawer and find out. Why men think they need to guess, I’ll never know. I had one boyfriend who guessed once. He didn’t last very long. But Dad chose this all by himself. I left him to it.”

Marie nodded. “Good to know. Now how embarrassed would you like your brothers to be? Vanessa and Vic, feel free to sit this one out.”

“Oh no,” I said. “I take great enjoyment in seeing Maxwell feeling uncomfortable.”

“Same,” said Vanessa. “I just need to make sure I video it.”

We headed into the lounge where the men were sitting around with beers watching sport on the huge TV which Grant had recently bought. It was a piece of equipment that had inspired over an hour’s conversation during poker night yesterday, with various references to comparative TV’s and which was superior, resulting in Max declaring that he was going to move so he had a wall big enough for one similar.

“Quick birthday speech,” Marie said, standing in front of the screen, the bag held behind her back.

“Mum, it’s a crucial point in the game,” Seph said, gesturing wildly to move out of the way.

She smiled sweetly and didn’t budge. “Firstly, thank you for coming here for the weekend. I know you’re all busy working and playing hard, too hard in some cases, Callum, so I’m really glad you all gave up your time. Secondly, thank you for your lovely, thoughtful gifts and thanks to Claire for co-ordinating them. And thank you to Vanessa and Victoria, as I’m pretty sure they had something to do with Maxwell and Jackson’s. Thirdly, I just thought I’d share with you what your dad got me…” She brought the bag round and put her hand in, loud cries of protest drowning out the commentary from the TV.

“Marie, I really think you shouldn’t…”

“Mum, if I see what that is I will need to bleach my eyes…”

“Please don’t do this to us!”

I started laughing, walking around to the back of the sofa where Max was sitting, covering his eyes with a cushion. I pulled the cushion away and he grabbed my hands instead. “Did you see what was in the bag?” he whispered conspiratorially.

“I did.”

“Was it shit, or was it okay? I mean, it wasn’t anything that could cause him to have a heart attack or something or something really—urgh, forget it; I don’t want to know.”

“If it helps, it was very sweet and I own nothing like it,” I said, leaning over the back of the sofa enough so that my breasts brushed the back of his head. Everyone else’s attention was still on the bag, although Claire’s fiancé, Killian, had distracted himself with her bump and seemed to be talking to the baby, maybe trying to erase the noises it might have heard from its future uncles’ protests.

It had a been a long day: we’d gone for a morning walk to get rid of any lingering hangovers from the night before, followed by a large pub lunch with lots of wine so no one had to cook and then a stroll back to the huge house owned by the Callaghans. I’d got used to the friendship offered by Claire and Vanessa over the previous months, finding it easier the more accustomed I became to having Max as a part of my life.

“I need to get you alone for a few hours,” Max said, his head still resting into my breasts. His eyes were laced with desire, a combination of his closeness to my body and the comment about my underwear.

“I could live with that,” I said. He stood up and headed for the door and I followed him like a stray puppy.

“Before you disappear, Max, I just wanted to mention something about the house and what we found there.” Ava walked over to us, her blonde hair bobbing about down her back.

I’d spent a few evenings with her, looking at my grandfather’s house and making a few suggestions around the kitchen and bathroom. It had already been altered beyond all recognition, a couple of walls removed, extra ones added, the plumbing for walk-in showers, a wet room and three en suites put in. Outside, an extension to what would be the kitchen and diner was taking place, the foundations firm already despite the miserable weather. It was exciting and sad at the same time. I was good to see the house being brought back to life for someone else to enjoy and I hoped they would be as happy there as I had—and that was why I was sad. That part of my life was over and I missed it, just as I missed my grandfather.

“Is everything okay?” Max said. “You know I wasn’t keen on the electricians you brought in.”

Ava shrugged. “They do a good job and do it thoroughly. I don’t care whether you’re keen on them or not. No, we found a box in the cellars that hadn’t been cleared out. I don’t know what’s in it but I’ve brought it with me as I thought Vic would want it.”

“Where was it?” I said, surprised that anything had been left.

“There was a small cupboard in one of the antechambers in the cellar. It was in there with a couple of books. I’ve kept those too, but figured you’d want the box sooner rather than later.” Ava pulled her hair back and stretched, cat-like.

“Can you bring it to our room?” Max said and I realised he was supporting me around the waist enough to hold me up. I’d thought we had cleared everything from the house; everything I was aware of was accounted for. I had no idea what the box was or what might be in it.

Ava nodded. “Sure, I’ll do it now.”

Max guided me up the stairs, his arm reassuring rather than teasing. I knew I was leaning into him, taking what I needed from his warmth and strength, his biceps having a more practical purpose than just something pretty to look at.

“Any ideas what this box is?” he said as we got to the end of the long corridor.

Shaking my head, I sat down on the bed and pulled my socks off. “I honestly have no idea.” My heart was racing and I tried to push all of my feelings and sadness back into a box that was already battered from everything trying to escape.

Max got on to the bed and sat behind me, pulling me into his chest and wrapping his arms around me. “It’s not going to be anything bad, Victoria. It will be okay.”

A light knock on the door sounded and then it opened. Ava entered with a wooden box that seemed familiar. It was carved and decorated with elephants. She handed it to me and I pulled off the lid immediately, hating the suspense, hating the surprise.

I put the wooden lid down next to me and looked at the contents: photographs, tiny wooden ornaments that looked African in origin like the box, and two rings. I held the rings in my hand with the box on my knee. Both were gold, one slimmer than the other and both were engraved on the inside.

“What do they say?” Max murmured and I looked up to see that Ava had gone, closing the door behind her.

My eyes swam with tears and try as I might, I couldn’t force them not to fall. “William and Esme Davies. It’s the same on both.”

“Your great-grandparents: the soldier and the nurse,” Max said, his voice silken and soft, tenderly wrapping me up in a myriad of feelings.

I nodded, trying Esme’s ring on. It just about slipped onto my ring finger. I put William’s ring on my thumb and took out the pictures. “Their wedding day,” I said. “And with their first child. My grandfather was their youngest.”

He took the photos, carefully holding them as I rummaged further through the box. There were a couple of old receipts, the ink too faded to see what for and more photos: my parents, an early one of my brother when he looked genuinely happy, me as a baby being cuddled by my grandmother and then a folded piece of thick paper. I opened it as if it might disintegrate in my hands or the ink would erase itself if it was accidently touched. There were names and lines, Esme’s in the middle, names above hers, some with dates.

“It’s your family tree,” Max said then kissed my shoulder. “Your grandfather’s left you the start of your family history. Look at your name.”

My eyes shifted to where it read Victoria Esme Davies. Underneath, in his careful script, he had added my date of birth and a caption: ‘my little historian’.

Max removed the paper from my hand and placed it back in the box with the photos. He held me into him and I buried my head into his chest, his familiar smell steadying the shakes that were trying to wrack my body.

“I can’t believe this was missed when we moved everything.”

“It doesn’t matter: you have it now,” he said, shifting us back onto the bed so we were lying down. “And you know you have the house if you want it.”

I batted the tears away so I could look at him. “What? You’d sell me the house? I wouldn’t be able to afford it—well, I could but…”

“There’s time to think about it, Victoria. Just try to enjoy this little bit of your history that he left you,” Max said.

My legs were entangled with his, his hand on my waist. His chest and his T-shirt were wet from my tears.

“Sorry,” I said.

“What for?” There was amusement in his tone as if he had no idea what there was to apologise for.

“I’ve soaked your shirt,” I mumbled, starting to feel steadier although still very raw. It was if someone had just taken a huge scab off my heart and now it had stopped stinging, I felt vulnerable.

He lifted himself up and pulled the T-shirt over his head, exposing ridges of muscle my fingers had committed to memory and the intricate patterns of his tattoos. If he was trying to distract me, it was working.

Something in the air changed and words fled out of the window. My hands went to his chest, fingers grazing over the pattern of hair that led to his jeans and over the peaks and valleys of his stomach. He let me roam, his eyes filled with feelings that didn’t need to be said.

My fingers followed the outline of his tattoos: the hourglass, the owl, the Celtic patterns, all the way to his collar bone and neck, over his beard to his lips where I traced the soft skin. His tongue escaped and tasted my fingers. I entwined his hair around my fingers and pulled him down to me, slipping slowly onto my back. I needed him to take me and possess me, to fuck the pain away and replace it with the life I felt when he brought me to orgasm, when I was so full of him I forgot my name.

He pushed my arms away, his hands on my wrists, his legs weighing me to the mattress. I remembered who I was and why, and everything that had brought me here to this moment started to make sense. All of my history, all the fine particles of my past, began to clot together and that open wound ceased to sting.

Lips brushed mine, applying soft pressure and gentle strength. I pushed my hips towards his, encouraging him to go faster, but he didn’t yield. Instead his mouth travelled down my body, softly biting the delicate skin of my neck to my chest. He undid the buttons of my shirt and found the front fastener of my bra, popping it open easily. I heard his sharp intake of breath as he looked at my breasts, my nipples hardening rapidly under his gaze, tightening with anticipation.

They didn’t wait for long. He started to lick and bite and suck and pinch, taking pressure away when I needed it, adding it when I least expected, his hands back on my wrists, leaving my writhing under him.

“I want you in me,” I said, trying to move my wrists so I could free his cock, impatient to feel it, to feel him. “Now.”

He looked up from my breasts, the cool air reacting with the nipple he had been attending. “Patience,” he said and my legs kicked out in frustration, making him grin. “I have other places to taste first.”

My wrists were freed and I tried to touch him, but he moved down me, undoing my jeans and starting to wrestle them off, pulling the lace panties down at the same time.

And then his mouth was on me, his tongue straight onto my clit, giving it a delicate lick with the tip of his tongue. I ached and felt my pussy clench, wanting him in me and I moaned, needing more. He tasted me, lapping at the juice that I knew was coating the tops of my thighs and I heard him inhale deeply.

“Tell me how I taste,” I said, the thin grasp I had on reality becoming like mist.

“Like salty honey and I can’t get enough.” Then his tongue became magic and I fractured into particles that only knew his name. At some point he lost his jeans and underwear, the sound of the zipper barely registering. My only functioning sense was touch as it was all I could cope with, all I needed. Him.

His hands came behind my knees and he pushed my legs high, his knees now further up the bed. One hand came down to shift my hips and then he held his cock and placed it at my entrance. Saying nothing, he entered me and I cried out at the perfect invasion, my muscles stretching around him and clasping his cock as he slowly started to thrust.

Something had changed in the room. The curtains were open, the crescent moon and stars uncovered by the glare of city lights, the only audience. The only sounds were our rapid breaths and gasps as he hit the spot deep inside me, turning me inside out and bare for him.

His pace increased and I knew he was close. My orgasm was building, a tsunami growing in power before it broke and my hands clutched his shoulders to steady myself as it climbed towards its peak.

Words were now completely out of the grasp of whatever brain cells I had still functioning. Instead, I held his eyes with mine, praying he could read what was behind them.

“You’re going to come.”

I whimpered and he altered his pace, increasing the force of his cock as it drove inside me.

“You’re going to come all over my cock and milk it with your pussy.”

With one hand he pushed my leg up to rest on his shoulder, increasing his depth and then I came with a scream, my hips leaving the bed and my body starting to shake.

He called my name seconds later and I felt the pulse of his cock as he came inside me, still pushing deeper. I clutched him, nails digging in and making my mark on his skin and then we started to slow, our breathing deepening as we chased oxygen, our hearts throbbing as our bodies started to regulate themselves.

I gripped still, my hands unwilling to break contact as he lowered himself onto me, his chest pressing against mine, using his hands to alleviate some of the weight. The kiss we shared had no finesse or tidiness, I nipped at his bottom lip and felt him chuckle into me, the vibrations softening the landing as reality began to come into focus.

“Come here,” he said, rolling onto his side and pulling me into him. “You okay?”

I wrapped myself around him. “More than okay. Do we need to go back to your parents?”

“No. We can stay here all night now. I don’t have any plans to move.”

“Good. I don’t want you to move.”

We drifted in and out of sleep, at some point taking a shower which led to fast and furious and silent sex against the tiles, his finger discovering my ass and my ass discovering that gem brought an extra bite to my orgasm. I shouted his name as I came and he called something I couldn’t translate. My particles had been rearranged and put back together, the open wound healing now everything around it was cemented in a solid foundation of my history and my present.

I slept deeply, Max’s warmth encapsulating me. My phone made a brief noise just before Seph decided he was going to parade around the house singing and delivering coffee. Ignoring it, I woke into an easy Sunday where January seemed a little brighter and the world a little clearer.

It took until lunch for me to remember my phone. There was a text from a number I didn’t recognise and no name. The message enough to change my expression and cause Vanessa to ask if I was okay.