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I never knew Mrs Dunlop’s husband, but given how pleasant she is, I find it hard to believe he’d be the type to dispense vigilante justice.

“Anyway, dear. Your top’s on inside out.”

I look down. She’s right. Wonderful.

“Oh. So it is.”

Her eyes flick over my escaped curls, then past me, to the stairs.

“Were you coming down from upstairs just now?”

Oh no.

“Er…yes. Ryan offered to teach me self-defence. He didn’t mention my top was on inside out. You know what men are like. They don’t notice these things.”

“Mm-hmm,” she says, but the twinkle in her eye suggests she isn’t entirely convinced.

“Anyway, I’ll let you deal with your recycling. Nice bumping into you.” I give her a smile, open my door, then close it behind me and lean back against it.

Oh. My. God.

I slide down until I’m sitting on the floor. Penny comes trotting through from the living room and clambers into my lap.

What was I thinking?

Clearly, I wasn’t thinking. That was the problem.

Even now, my body still hasn’t got the message that it was a terrible mistake. I’m still humming from it—from what he did to me, and from what I did to him. Because holding Ryan in my hands was just as hot as the two orgasms he gave me. Seeing him lose control, and knowing that I was responsible for it? I’m turned on just thinking about it.

“Never again,” I tell Penny. She yawns.

I mean it, though. No more lessons. I should never have agreed to them in the first place. Emmy said she did a self-defence course once. Why didn’t I ask her where? I could have paid an instructor and learnt how to break a wrist grip without ending up naked.

I bend to kiss Penny’s head and catch the smell of upstairs on my T-shirt: Ryan’s soap, his skin, the rubbery scent of the mats. Oh, for goodness’ sake.

I ease Penny off my lap and get up. Through in the bathroom, I pull the T-shirt over my head, drop it in the laundry basket, and turn the bath taps on full. I will wash away the smell of him.

Once the bath is full, I sink into it, lie back, and stare at the ceiling. This is when I calm down, get clean, and think sensibly about the whole thing.

I shouldn’t be embarrassed. I am, after all, human, and we have needs. And given that I’ve ignored said needs for years now, it’s no wonder I got a little carried away.

Images come to me. Ryan’s hand between my legs, his eyes on mine in the glass, his voice telling me to watch. Ryan breathing me in off his fingers. The weight of him in my hand, hot and heavy and shockingly big. The way his whole body jerked when he⁠—

My thighs press together.

Stop it.

I’m only torturing myself here. Ryan made it very clear we won’t be doing that again. We are, however, neighbours, which means I’ll have to pass him on the stairs knowing he’s watched me lose control not once but twice in the mirror of his home gym.

Just as embarrassing is the way I acted afterwards. Kissing his cheek and asking if he’d ever consider more, when he’d already told me it was a one-off. Why did I do that?

I knew the terms. I agreed to them. Can I really blame him for snapping at me?

Of course, I do blame him, but mainly because it makes me feel better. I’m not sure it’s entirely justified.

Still, he could have been a bit nicer about it. He was so mean.

I sit up and reach for the shampoo.