‘I wouldn’t sell it. I wouldn’t even show it to anyone else, if you don’t want me to.’
‘Days?’ She frowned. She didn’t like the idea of lying around naked for days with him staring at her. He’d seen her naked plenty of times, of course, but this would be different. His gaze would be so intensely focused on her. She didn’t know if she could handle that.
‘I could do it from photographs, if that would be easier for you. I’d just have to take a few snaps. I could make the painting from those.’
‘Is it just as good using photographs?’
‘Well, I’d rather have the real thing, but…’
He obviously really wanted this, and he’d been so nice to her. It seemed like the least she could do. Besides, it would be good practice for her – she had to get used to being looked at naked. ‘Okay,’ she whispered.
‘You’ll do it? You’ll pose for me?’ His eyes lit up, and she couldn’t help smiling back at him.
‘Yeah, if you want me to that much.’
‘Thank you.’ He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his fingers going to the buttons of her shirt as he kissed his way down her neck.
‘You want to start right now?’ she asked, pulling back. She wasn’t sure she was ready just yet.
‘Right now, I want to fuck you. I wasn’t joking about all that twat talk turning me on. Besides, I want to paint you afterwards, when you’re all glowing and voluptuous with that just-fucked look.’
‘Oh!’
He took her hand and led her to the bedroom, and they spent the next couple of hours working on Claire’s post-coital glow.
‘This is how I want to paint you,’ Luca said some time later, propped up on one elbow beside her in bed. ‘Just like this.’ His thumb stroked over her swollen lips and then his hand moved down to cup her breast, his eyes following wherever he touched. ‘You’re so beautiful – all full and sated, and alive.’
Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard posing naked for him, Claire thought. Because the way Luca looked at her made her feel so sexy and beautiful, like she really was all that.
17
On Friday, Claire left work early and went straight to the airport. It had been a busy week in the shop, and she had hardly had time to think about her actual visit, she’d just looked forward to relaxing on the flight. But on the plane it hit her that she hardly knew Mark, and she could be letting herself in for a very awkward weekend.
So she was feeling nervous as she made her way into the arrivals hall, searching the crowds around the barrier for Mark. Then she spotted him waving at her, and was instantly reassured by the sight of his friendly face. She made her way quickly to him, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was a gentle, tentative kiss – less than lovers but more than friends.
‘It’s really good to see you,’ he said, smiling down at her.
‘It’s good to see you too.’
He took her bag and led her to his car, swinging her case into the boot. Her flight had got in just after eight, butthe evenings were lengthening, and the sun was setting as they drove towards London.
‘So, I thought we’d stay in tonight,’ he said. ‘I figured you’d probably be tired after your journey.’
‘I am tired,’ Claire said, stifling a yawn, as if by the power of suggestion. ‘Why is travelling always so exhausting, even if it’s only a really short trip?’
‘Tomorrow night I’ve booked us a table for dinner at a little bistro in the village. I hope that’s okay.’
‘It sounds lovely.’
He asked after her mother and work, and they chatted easily for the rest of the journey. Mark’s place was a large garden flat in a period building just outside Highgate village.
‘This is lovely,’ she said, as he led her into a bright, modern living room with wooden floors. She had expected his flat to be very sleek and minimalist, but it was much more homely and cosy than she had imagined, and felt comfortably messy and lived-in. There were books piled everywhere, and floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls in the living room.
‘Come on, and I’ll show you around,’ he said, dropping her bag on the floor.
He took her on a quick tour of the flat, the kitchen living up to some of her bachelor-pad expectations, with lots of chrome appliances, high-tech gadgets and granite worktops. ‘I knew you were coming so I baked a cake,’ he said, pointing to a sponge that was sitting on a rack on the worktop.
‘You really baked? For me?’ Claire asked, touched by the sweetness of the gesture.
