I smiled. “That would be the wisest move, I’m sure, but I don’t want that. I never did, not from the moment I barged into your hotel room.”
“Neither do I.” She reached out her hand and I folded her dainty little fingers in mine. “So, what now?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “This isn’t a position I’m used to occupying. I can’t say it’s entirely comfortable.”
“We could carry on…” she said. “As we were.”
I shunted my way toward her, craving her body more than ever. “I don’t know if I can be the man who can offer you more, Lydia, I’m not sure that’s me.”
“So don’t.” Her smile was soft. “Just be the man you are.” She leant her head into my shoulder. “I don’t want to lose what we have, James. You make me feel so alive.”
My stomach churned in rapport with her words. “I can’t offer you a relationship, Cat, it would never work. I’m too private, too closed, too set in my ways. And I can’t lose my career, I’ve worked too fucking hard. Order is my only constant, my routine is my salvation, my road through any storm.”
Her eyes glittered like moondust, pale as the kiss of a ghost. “Please talk to me. What happened to you? Was it Rachel? Was it bad?”
I sighed. “It wasn’t a good time.”
“You came here for a reason,” she whispered. “Because you care. At least try and let me in.”
“I need a drink,” I grunted, brushing her legs aside. She didn’t follow me, just sat and watched, eyes haunting my every move. I opted for a coffee, and made Lydia one too, brooding around my own resolve as the kettle boiled. This time I positioned myself away from her, my elbows on my knees.
“Rachel was already married when I met her,” I began. “We worked together a long time before anything happened. She was married to our boss’s best friend, it’s how she got the job initially. Her husband worked long hours and she was bored, he figured she could do with a hobby and along she came, to join me as a junior even though she wasn’t such a junior.”
“Go on,” she encouraged, eyes wide and so fucking compelling.
“Rachel’s first husband was a lot older than her, boring, she called him, but I suspect he worshipped the ground she walked on. She was spoiled, but frustrated, claiming the passion had all dried up. For about six months it was all she’d talk about, how much she wanted to leave him. She told me she’d moved into a separate bedroom at first, that they weren’t having sex. She’d say too much, bemoaning the fact she was a red-blooded woman without a man, and me, well I was a red-blooded man without a steady woman. She came back to work after a long Christmas holiday that year and told me they’d agreed to separate. I believed her, I mean, why wouldn’t I? It’d been a long time coming. I guess it was around that time she decided she wanted me for real, and hell did I know it. She’d message me on my personal email, listing off fantasies she’d never fulfilled, and some of them made my mouth water, Lydia, some of them were so fucking filthy.”
“So, you fucked her?”
I smiled, despite myself. “Many times, and she was as filthy as her fantasies. She lapped up every single crazy thing I had to give her, and back then I was stupid, I thought we could hide it, I thought it wouldn’t matter. But Rachel craves attention more than she craves sex, only I didn’t know her well enough to realise that. She’d photograph every mark I ever made on her, emailing me a copy so I could take pride in my work outside of office hours. I figured she’d delete them, figured she’d be careful, but Rachel isn’t careful, she doesn’t think through her actions.”
I watched Lydia watching me, and she was biting her lip in the way that I love, the way that makes my dick twitch. “Go on...” she prompted.
“I’d been in that company since university, Cat, it was like a home to me, my whole fucking life was there, years and years of work. I’d worked my way up to the top, and it meant the world to me.”
“What did she do?”
“Rachel didn’t do anything, it’s what she didn’t do. She didn’t delete her photographs and she didn’t delete her emails. Every single photograph and sordid conversation was