‘Come, I’ll take you home,’ he says, getting to his feet.

I nod and pick up my purse. Yes, he definitely wants to get rid of me. We walk to the car in silence. We drive in silence. Outside my apartment, I turn toward him.

‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ I say quietly.

‘Yeah, OK.’

He bends and kisses me lightly on the cheek. ‘Goodnight.’

He’s dismissing me as if I’m some woman he doesn’t give a shit about. I feel utterly abandoned. I peer into his closed face. ‘Have I done something wrong, Dom?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, it’s not you.’ And then he grips the steering wheel. ‘It’s not you,’ he says again. As if in those three words lies the solution to what is eating him.

‘Goodnight,’ I say.

‘Goodnight, Ella,’ he says softly.

I get out of the car, sad and confused. He waits until I get into the door of my apartment building before he drives off. I lean against the wall of the foyer and listen to his car blast off into the night before I slowly climb the stairs up to my flat. I let myself in. There is a lamp burning in the living room. I walk to the sofa and sink heavily into it. It feels as if my whole world has just collapsed.

I’m in love with a man I cannot understand. A man who is closed off to me. The only time he’s real with me is when we’re in bed, but tonight, for no reason that I can see, he has rejected even that from me.

I know we have something.

It feels so real, but is it enough?

I go into my bedroom and sit in front of my dressing table. My face looks dazed and lost and I feel like crying, but I don’t. I tell myself that I am strong. I can be strong for him and for me.

One day he will tell me what’s wrong.

One day I will make his demons go away. Until that day, I will be here waiting and loving him. I cleanse my face, get into my pajamas, and finish my toilette. Then I go back into the living room and listen to music.

I listen to Heart singing ‘Stairway to Heaven’. And the sadness of the song makes me tear up. The song ends, and my phone buzzes. A message from Dom. I am so desperate to open the message that I drop the phone. I pick it up and click on the text.

Are you still up?

My hands shake as I type in my one word reply: Yes. And click send. I cover my mouth and wait. The phone sounds again almost immediately.

Don’t go 2 bed. Coming round in 10 minutes.

I stare at it. And suddenly it’s as if I’ve been told I’ve won the lottery. I leap up from the sofa and run to the bedroom. I get out of my PJs and slip into a sexy nightie. It’s see-through with a plunging neckline and little pearl buttons. I light some scented beeswax candles. I slick on nude lip gloss. Standing in front of the mirror, I brush my hair and dab perfume onto my wrists.

Once I’m satisfied with my appearance, I go back to the living room and because I gave him a key to my flat last week I arrange myself in a sexy pose on the sofa. I hear his key in the door and hurriedly fluff my hair. The door opens. He stands for a moment in the doorway and sways slightly. Then he comes in and, closing the door, leans against it. I stare at him. He is dead drunk!

‘Hey there, tiger,’ he drawls.

‘Hey, you,’ I say cautiously.

He starts walking toward me, stumbles once, rights himself, and continues on his journey to me.

‘You drove here like this?’ I ask incredulously.

He nods.

‘God! Dom. You can barely stand. You could have killed yourself. Or someone else.’

‘I didn’t,’ he mutters, ‘kill anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

I stand. ‘I’ll make some coffee for you,’ I say, heading toward the kitchen. I love him, but I’m not going to condone drunk driving. As I pass him, his hand shoots out and he pulls me into his hard body.

‘I spent a lot of time and money to get into this state. I don’t want to sober up just yet, thanks,’ he says.

I look into his eyes. There’s no real focus in them. If I’m going to find out anything, now is the best time. ‘OK. Come sit with me and let’s talk.’

He shakes his head slowly. ‘I didn’t get this way to sit and talk with you.’

‘What do you want to do, Dom?’

‘What I always want to do when I’m around you, Ella.’

A chill comes into my body. Here. Cold, clear proof that I am nothing but a good fuck. I’m in love with the guy, and all he wants from me is sex.

‘Is that all you want from me?’

He frowns and peers at me. ‘Awww, Ella. We have this. Isn’t this good?’

I don’t answer him.

‘C’mon, babe. Don’t kick a man when he’s down.’

‘Are you down?’

He breathes out. ‘Like you wouldn’t believe.’

‘What’s wrong? Tell me, please?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

I stare at him with frustration. ‘But I do.’

‘Trust me, you don’t want to know.’

I look up at him, confused and intrigued. What on earth could it be that I wouldn’t want to know?

He frowns again. ‘I can’t talk about it yet,’ he says and slips his forefinger into my cleavage. He gazes into my eyes. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he whispers.

In the candlelight, his eyes glimmer. The air is snatched from my throat. I suck in a breath. Strains of music surround us. It’s so sweet and intoxicating, it should have been magic, but it’s not. An air of barely suppressed grief hangs around him. He sighs heavily, and a deep worry line etches itself between his eyebrows.

My heart feels heavy.

‘There are all kinds of memories hiding in the curves of your breasts,’ he murmurs. His eyes flutter shut and then snap open. He is maudlin. Vulnerable.

His other hand comes up and cups my breast. He rolls my nipple between his fingers and I feel the familiar itching between my legs start. His eyes darken as he thrusts his knee between my thighs. I push my sex against the hard muscles and feel his cock pressing against my hip, straining to get to my wet heat.

‘Oh, Ella,’ he groans, and, lifting me up, clumsily carries me to my bed.

He drops me on the bed, and, with haphazard urgency, removes his shoes and clothes. He lands on the bed heavily and immediately rolls onto his back.

‘Ride me. I want to watch your face when that hot little pussy of yours stretches wide for my cock,’ he growls.

I clamber over him and sit on his thighs.

He pops the two little pearl buttons on my nightie. My breasts spill out and he slides his hands over the flesh and massages them.

‘You really are so ripe and beautiful,’ he mutters to himself.

I arch my back to push my breasts into his hands.

‘Get naked,’ he orders.

I pull my nightie over my head and fling it to the floor.

He takes a deep, satisfied breath, curls his hands around my midriff, and pulls me down for a kiss. I spread myself flat over his hardness as his mouth claims mine. He smells of alcohol and something broken. I don’t know him, and he won’t allow me in. The thought is extraordinarily painful. A lone finger strokes the swollen lips of my vulva as the kiss goes on. It makes me melt into him until he digs his fingers into my hips. I pull away from his mouth and stare down at him.

‘Come, sit on my face,’ he invites.

I knee-walk along his body and turn to face his feet. Hovering over his face, I slither and snake my body like a belly dancer so he can see what a gooey puddle my pussy has become.

‘So eager, so wanton,’ he growls.

Cupping the globes of my bottom as I gyrate teasingly above him, he lifts his face and extends his tongue. It flicks my clit and I whimper with the velvet heat. He pulls me lower and lets his tongue worm its way through the damp undergrowth.

As soon as he tastes my syrup, he pulls me all the way down, and I helpfully spread my thighs as wide as I can. I reach down and let the tip of my tongue flick and tickle his cock. He shudders under me and glues my vulva to his face. I feel my juices flow out of me and drip into his mouth.