“I need to go back to the flat.” I watch his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s shaving, and it’s kind of hard not to stare as he tilts his face this way and that removing all the stubble I love to run my fingers across.

“If you’d moved some stuff in here like I suggested at the weekend, you wouldn’t be spending your time traipsing across London to get clean knickers every day.”

We’d come home from France late on Sunday and I’d expected him to drop me home, but he’d driven straight to his Mews and well, here I’ve stayed. In his big bed, discovering things about him I’m sure people find out way before they start to live together. Like spooning is a real thing. He doesn’t sleep unless his arms are tight around my waist.

Sunday evening was three nights ago.

I pull a face and he chuckles. “You are still as sexy as fuck, even when you do that.”

I glow with his words—it’s all levels of pathetic.

I’m all levels of pathetic at the moment. With the studio space he’s created for me out in his garden and the fact he’s here with his big comfortable bed. I don’t seem able to leave and do all the things I would have done before I met him.

Tabitha and Lewis seem to have taken up residence in my little Islington flat. So basically, none of us are where we should be, apart from Eli.

“I need clean knickers.”

He wipes off the shaving foam and turns to me, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair in short damp spikes. He looks like some sort of Greek god. “I’ll buy out the whole of M&S’s underwear section if you just agree to stay here with me.”

I roll my eyes and he pinches the end of my nose with his finger and thumb. “I told you, I’m not moving in. We haven’t been together long enough, or actually at all.”

He brushes a kiss across my mouth and it’s delightfully minty fresh. I want to slide in my tongue and explore further. “And I told you there is nothing about us that’s standard.”

“I’ll say.” I arch an eyebrow. “We still haven’t faced your mother or the psychotic grandbaronessy.” I think about Dan and the row we had. It hangs heavy on my chest. I should call him. I want to call him.

Elijah watches me in the mirror as I wrestle with myself, but he doesn’t ask what I’m thinking about. I flash him a smile and get back to my morning routine.

“They can wait.” He turns and leaves me in the bathroom and I hear him sliding open his wardrobe where he must be picking out one of his beautiful suits. He has an entire wardrobe full of the things—black, grey, navy, all of them are cut to perfection and next to them are an array of ties chosen to match. It’s a different world to the ripped jeans and pass me down T-shirts I grew up in.

“Which thousand pound suit are you wearing today?” I call, sniggering to myself.

I flick on the shower. I really need coffee and to get myself to the studio. I’ve got meetings planned today and I need to catalogue the work I’ve got in progress. But then I stink of sex and sleep, so I think maybe a shower should be my first call.

“Don’t forget I’ve got a late lecture,” I call again through to where he’s dressing at the other side. It should be weird, this domestic situation unravelling around me. After all, I’ve never had a boyfriend, let alone someone who I get dressed with, clean teeth with, and spend most of my time with. But Eli makes it normal and I’m falling under his illusion that him and I are something other than normal.

“I won’t,” he calls back.

“And then I’m with Tabitha at her midwife appointment.” Jeez, I can’t get my head around this development at all. But apparently, it’s happening. Not that anyone has told her mother yet. I cringe as I step into the shower and let the water flow over my head. Tilting my head down I let the powerful jets flow against the knots in my neck. I love this shower, it takes washing to a whole new level.

I open my eyes and jump out of my skin. Elijah is stood right there watching me from under a hooded gaze. “Shit, you scared me.”

He chuckles and steps closer, careful to avoid the droplets of water on his suit. Single-breasted with a navy waistcoat, along with a grey and navy striped tie, and pale-blue shirt, there is nothing more attractive. How is it even legal to look that good? His eyes are on my ink, the swirls and patterns that define me, or rather define my path. A cloud flits over his expression as he sees the shard of the glass above my heart.

“Shall we go out for a late dinner tonight?” I ask. “It would be nice to do something normal.”

He cocks a dark eyebrow. “Is this because I still haven’t taken you on an official date on our own?”

“Do I look like the kind of woman who worries about dates?”

He smiles, slow, sexy, breathtaking. I lean forward and kiss him, my bare breasts puckering to attention at the mere nearness of him in that suit.

“You look like the kind of woman who makes everything trouble.”

I grin and slide my wet mouth against his. “Trouble with a capital T.” He groans slightly and as quick as lightning I pull him under the shower, suit and all.

“Faith!”

“I just warned you right then.” My mouth is hot against his and my tongue slides through his teeth, delving deep, teasing his.  His suit is drenched, and he hauls me up against the wet material. An electrical torrent runs through me, my insides warm and liquefy. My hands are in his hair, our teeth clashing as our kiss becomes desperate and fast. His hand snakes down my stomach, his fingers slipping into my core. My legs shake as he delves deep inside, his eyes burn on my face. The water still comes down, droplets rolling along our faces as he watches me react to his hands between my legs. I close my eyes, waves of delight shuddering and growing with every stroke of his fingers. When he drops to his knees, like a man praying under a waterfall, I groan outwardly. His tongue is the most wicked part of him. He peels my legs apart, burrowing his face and using his tongue to slide and flick my clit. “Turn around.” His command is low and gruff. My legs wobble as I follow his direction without hesitation.

He pushes me against the wall of the shower, his hands tugging at my ankles, separating my legs until he’s crouched beneath me. I cast a glance down to him, his suit is now almost black with water, his gold cufflinks catching the sunlight streaming through the bathroom window. As he licks at me from behind, his tongue from this angle now delving deep inside me, pulsing and probing, I almost come at once. A sharp crescendo of a wave lifts me higher and higher and I’m panting as his tongue slips out from inside me and runs along my crack as his hands spread my cheeks.

“Ah, fuck, no, Eli.” I’m panting with every word but it doesn’t make any difference. He carries on, licking, pushing, searching, seeking out every single piece of me with his mouth. I cry as I shudder to a climax.

He straightens and turns me around. Shit, I can’t even meet his eyes. “I’m going to be late for work now.” He pecks a kiss on my mouth. “I’ll be thinking about that all day.”

He steps away and moves out the shower, dragging a towel off the rail and rubbing at his drenched hair. I’m shaking under the shower, hearing him move about changing his clothes.

Fuck. I’m doomed. How will I ever get anything done with things like that swirling around in my head?

When I get out of the shower he’s already gone, but a shiny object catches my attention on the bed—which he’s made—lets be real, making beds isn’t on my to-do list any day of the week. It’s a key attached to a ribbon. On the ribbon is a brown label like the type used to address postage packages. Make yourself at home...

I sit on the bed and take the key in my hand turning it in the light.

Make myself at home? Is he being serious about me moving in?

I can’t, can I?

It’s crazy.

“So, what do you think?”

“What are we talking about here?” Abi frowns at me across FaceTime. “Are we talking about the fact Elijah wants you to move in with him, or the fact you seem to be making a giant phallic shape with clay.”

I look at the clay I’m moulding. “That is nothing like a penis.”

“Adam! Come and look at this, is Faith making a clay dick?”

She swings the phone, so Adam can see, and I roll my eyes. “Hi, Adam, why aren’t you at work?” Might as well try to make decent conversation while stroking a clay penis.

“The kids gave me a tummy bug.” He shakes his head and points at Abi mouthing the word ‘cooking’. I snort and a sofa cushion smacks him in the face.

“So are you going to move in with the Baroness’ son?”

I scowl at Abi and she turns the camera back around to her. “I don’t think of him like that.”

She narrows her gaze. “Well regardless of how you think of him, that’s what he is. At some point you are going to have to be his girlfriend in front of his mother and face up to everything it brings.”

I purse my lips. “His mother can’t know. Not now, or yet. I don’t know.”

“So you are still his little secret, just like you were over the summer?”

“No. Well, maybe.” What is this an inquisition? “I don’t know.”

“You sound like a thirteen-year-old.”

“Bite me.” I give my head a shake. “I thought you liked him? You were the one talking me into giving him another chance.”

She howls with laughter. “I don’t need to, it seems Elijah has that all covered. I just want you to finally have a normal relationship. And I want you to have dates, and fun, and awkward family meetings.”

“Really, do you think meeting his mother now we are together is going to change everything? I don’t. I think she will ruin everything.”

“But at the moment you are a secret. And, Faith, you deserve more than that.” She pauses for a moment and thinks before opening her mouth again.

“And his friends?” She nods. “I mean you’ve got to meet his mates, right?”

I haven’t even thought about this. I know nothing about being in a relationship. It’s quite scary. “I don’t know.” I shrug. “He’s never mentioned any friends.”

“So basically, you guys are fucking the brains out of each other and not talking at all.”

My heart sinks. That’s exactly what we are doing. “Shit.” I slump a little bit over the clay penis.

“Don’t worry. It’s all fine, you guys are perfect for each other no matter how different you are.”

Abi’s not helping here at all.

“And hey, think of it this way, it sounds like you’ve got a house in France out of it.”

“Abi!”

“And a huge diamond. I mean come on, Faith, you are winning here.”

I know she’s only joking, but her words sting a little. Is this what people are going to think of me? That the girl with the tatts has somehow managed to bag herself an heir to one of the richest families in England? Is that what everyone I meet is going to think from this point on?

“I’ve gotta go.” I smile at Abi, but it’s fake and forced.

“No, Faith, come on, I was joking.” Her face creases with a frown but I give her a little wave and press the red button to disconnect the call.

I rub at my face and look at the random pieces of art I’ve been creating the last few days while Eli’s been at work. There is nothing there that makes them cohesive to one another. It’s just more individual items with no purpose.

I’ll never be known as Faith Hitchin the artist who could create ‘—’ fill in the blank.

What if I’m not known for being an artist, but instead become known as the woman who Elijah Fairclough elevated to a position she didn’t deserve?  

With a hollow knocking in my chest I snap pictures of the pieces in the studio and then upload them onto my laptop ready to take to Whitlocks.

My phone pings, and I glance down at the screen. Abi. Please don’t listen to me, I’m just jealous of all the sex you’re having. Adam’s forgotten I have a G-spot.

I smile and type back a quick response. Don’t worry. I’m cool.

With a sigh, I pack up my laptop and put it into my bag.

I grab a coffee on campus, asking for a double espresso with a shot of hazelnut, and with still an hour until I’m due in any lectures, I sit down at a small round table and pull out my sketch pad and pencils. I might have been playing with clay earlier—although I stand by the fact it wasn’t supposed to look like a penis, but the truth is I’m a bit short on ideas.

Before I met Elijah, I was also blocked. It was only making that cameo from the marble that’s enabled me to even come back for this third year. I was blocked. And I still am. Folding back the spiral pad, I smooth my hand over the surface and tap a pen against the table top.

I take a sip of my coffee, but it doesn’t help. “Hey, Faith.”

“Hey.” I don’t take my eyes from the paper but kick the chair opposite mine out for Gerard to sit on. “Don’t you have a coffee machine in your office?”

“I like to keep it real with the students.” He sits down and pulls my blank piece of paper towards him. “You’ve got something really great here, Faith, I’m impressed.”

“Shut up.” I scowl and take another sip of coffee.

“What’s up?” He blinks at me through his glasses and I appraise him from behind my cardboard cup. I no longer know what my obsession with him was. It’s what I do though, get uncontrollable urges that can’t be appeased until I give into what I want—all objectivity lost.

Is that what I’m doing with Elijah?

I’d be crazy not to consider the possibility... I’ve never had a boyfriend in my life... and now what?

“Earth to Faith?”

“Sorry.” I lift my gaze from the blank sheet of paper and give him a smile. “I’m blocked like a public toilet.”

He grimaces, scrunching his freckles. “You’re disgusting.”

I flash him the brightest smile I can sarcastically muster but it soon drops.

“How can you be blocked? On Friday you had an exhibition launch in your honour. A few weeks ago, you taught a bunch of kids who had never done anything outside local authority education. So how on earth can you say you’re blank?”

I sigh and scrape a pencil across the page, leaving a dark groove in the paper. “It was different over the summer. The ideas just seemed to flow.”

“Because you were inspired?”

I shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe it was because I wanted to prove Jennifer and Connie Fairclough wrong. That I was suitable, and I could do better than the low estimation they had.”

Gerard grins. “So basically, you need to find someone you’ve got to prove yourself to.”

“I don’t think it’s quite that clear cut.” I finish my coffee and scrunch the cup into a misshapen ball.

His smile turns sly. “It’s given me an idea.”

“No, no, no, no.” My head shakes from one side to the other. “Your ideas are terrible. Look at what happened over the summer.”

“Exactly, it was a major success.” He drains his cappuccino and wipes the froth off his beard with the back of his hand. “So you and Fairclough are still off then?”

I hesitate. Gerard is friends with Peter and I don’t know how deep that friendship goes. I nod my head. “Yep.” Pushing my chair back, I stand up and stare down at him. “You know me, Ger, I don’t do second chances.” And just like that the lie slips from my mouth. I push my still empty sketch pad back into my bag along with my pencils. “See you in lectures.”