He sighed. ‘It seems to. I just meant this house doesn’t feel like you.’
‘And how do you know what I feel like?’ She blushed as soon as she said it.
‘I don’t.’ Yet.
‘This is my home, okay? I’m sorry it doesn’t have the edgy cool of your place.’
‘Sorry. Don’t mind me, I’m just jealous. I love this house.’
‘You secretly long for doilies and net curtains?’
‘I do. I go doily-hunting every weekend, but the old ladies always beat me to the best ones.’ He was relieved that she smiled slightly at that and relaxed a little.
Still, a mother in the house was problematic. That meant they would have to be quiet, and he’d like to see Claire let rip. She was so tense – a good shouty fuck would do her the world of good. He hoped her headboard wasn’t too close to the wall of her mother’s room.
‘I hope we don’t wake her up,’ he said tentatively, glancing at the ceiling.
‘She’s not here. She’s… away at the moment,’ Claire said.
‘So, we’re all alone,’ he said, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
‘Um… yeah.’ She grabbed her wine and drained the glass.
God, poor thing. No wonder she was so out of practice. Living with her mother must really cramp her style. It might also explain why she was so desperate to make something happen tonight, while she had the place to herself. Maybe it was the only chance she’d had for a long time and she was determined to grab it, even if the effort was killing her. She obviously wasn’t used to bringing guys home, and she was very shy. He wished he could make it easier for her. If only she knew she was already way ahead of the game. She didn’t need to go to all this trouble – setting a table, cooking food, making conversation. He was used to girls dragging him home to fuck them in unmade beds with barely a hello. Well, he’d give her his A game tonight. If this was her once-a-year day, he’d make sure it was one she’d never forget.
‘Well, it’s late,’ she said, when they were finished, standing and starting to clear the table. He could feel her tension as she scraped plates and fussed with the dishwasher. He was about to go over and take her in his arms when she turned around.
‘I’ll show you the spare room,’ she said. ‘I mean, you don’t have to go to bed now. You can stay up as long as you like. If you want to watch TV or anything…’
She was suggesting he watch TV? Jesus! She had obviously used up all her nerve getting him here, and she had no idea how to make the next move.
‘I don’t.’
‘Okay. Well, I’ll just show you where you’ll be sleeping and then you can do whatever you want.’
Whatever I want?It was on the tip of his tongue to make some suggestive remark, but he thought better of it. It might give her a heart attack.
He followed her upstairs again and she showed him into a small, neat room, the walls painted duck-egg blue. A high bed took up most of the space. It looked soft and billowy and welcoming, with four plump pillows and a thick white duvet. He was ready to crawl into that bed right now. He wanted it so badly it hurt, his eyelids drooping at the very sight of it. But he had some chores to do before he could climb under the duvet. He didn’t mind. They were very pleasant chores.
Claire had moved into the room ahead of him and pulled the curtains. ‘There’s an electric blanket on the bed, if you want to use it,’ she said, turning to face him, her hands clasped together tightly.
Luca dropped his bag inside the door and moved towards her stealthily, determined to make this easy for her.
‘And there are extra blankets in the wardrobe, if you’re cold?—’
‘Oh, I don’t think I’m going to need those,’ he said, smiling into her eyes. ‘Am I?’ Then he bent his head and kissed her, one hand cupping her face, his thumb stroking her jaw encouragingly, while he slid his other arm around her to pull her close. He felt her body go rigid, but he kept kissing her softly, coaxingly, trying to relax her. He slid a hand up under her jumper and cupped her breast gently over the material of her dress.
She yelped and jerked away from him. ‘What— what are you doing?’ she gasped, an outraged look on her face.
‘Singing for my supper.’ He bent to kiss her again, butshe turned her face away. ‘Come on, isn’t that what we’re here for?’
‘Wh-what? You think I?—’
‘Hey, it’s cool,’ he said. ‘It’s okay to ask for what you want.’ He put a hand on the side of her face to make her look at him. ‘And it’s okay to want this.’ He leant in again.
‘No!’ She stepped back, putting distance between them, one hand raised. She looked as if she wanted to hit him but couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Oh, Christ! Luca froze. One look at her shocked face, the panic and upset in her eyes, and he knew he had read the situation all wrong. She really was just being kind when she’d brought him home with her. She had taken pity on him, fed him and offered him a bed for the night, and he had repaid her by groping her and insinuating that she had only brought him there because she wanted a fuck. He wished shewouldhit him. He deserved it, and it might make him feel better.
