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I didn’t think it would go in that direction. Delilah has every right to hate me, and I half expected the night to be filled with her accusations and admonishments about the way I treated her. I was prepared to be screamed at, snarled at, maybe even for things to be thrown about the house. But it all ended in a different type of passion.

Whatever convinced her to take the night in that direction, I’m beyond grateful. I’m not living under any illusion that we’ll pick up where we left off, go live the future we once talked about, or that she’ll suddenly be by my side through film premieres and we’ll debut a relationship and talk about rekindled love in interviews, but I hope she’ll give me more than one night. A taste of Delilah makes me feel like an addict who’s had a tiny, illicit drop of their chosen poison, and now all I want to do is drown myself in it for as long as she’ll allow. I want to take a deep enough hit that I’ll be sated when she takes away the supply, because I know she’ll take it away.

The question is not if but when.

Delilah stirs on the bed, extending her arm. I gather she’s awake and checking the time, because she quickly sits up like she’s been doused with cold water.

“Fuck,” she exclaims.

“Exactly the sentiment a man loves to hear.” I can’t help but laugh.

She scrambles out of bed, crouching down to gather her discarded clothes.

“I’m going to be so late if I don’t get a move on. Felix is going to kill me.”

“So, let me get this right. You’re swearing because you’re worried about being late, not because of distress at waking up in my bedroom?” I ask. My tone is teasing and light, but I can’t help but feel the little tightening of my muscles. Does she regret what we did? Did she plan to slip out of my bed before I woke, leaving nothing but the scent of her lingering in the room as a reminder she was here?

She stops what she’s doing and looks at me, a small smile on her face.

“No regrets, but Felix is going to be pissed if I’m late. We’re supposed to have brunch. I can’t turn up looking like this.” She gestures towards her hair and face, and I’m sure she knows how she looks. She’s right. I’m sure anybody looking at her right now would assume she’s spent the night rolling around in bed. “I also can’t show up reeking of sex,” she adds, frowning slightly as if the scent of sex in the room has just hit her.

“Go shower. Tell him you’ll be a little late,” I suggest. “I’ll drive you when you’re ready.”

“It’s probably best if Felix doesn’t see you.”

“Planning on keeping me as your little secret?” I tease as I get out of bed.

“I don’t keep secrets from Felix. I’ll tell him over brunch. It’s just one thing to hear it from me and another to see you.” She shrugs and walks in the direction of the en suite, taking her clothes with her.

I follow her. “How long do you have until you’re meeting Felix?”

She dumps her clothes onto the vanity, then reaches into the shower to turn the water on. I can’t help but smile about how unbothered and comfortable she seems in my house.

“An hour, but given it’s about forty minutes to get to near my house and I need to wait for a taxi, I’m going to be cutting it fine.”

“I said I’ll drive you,” I point out.

Stepping into the shower cubicle, she gives an appreciative smile under the hot water that pours from the powerful showerhead. She reaches for my shower gel on the shelf. There’s a weird thrill in my body when I realise that she might be washing away the smell of sex, but she’ll still smell like me and my shower gel all day.

“You don’t have to drive me. I’ll get a taxi.”

“It’s fine, Dee. I’ll drive you. I just need a shower first.”

She flashes me a grin. I watch as the water sluices down her body.

“Is that your way of asking whether you can join me in the shower?”

“It wasn’t, but….”

“Well, if it’s for saving time, come on, then,” she teases.

I laugh and step into the shower with her, positioning myself behind her. The showerhead is large enough that the flow of water covers us both. It’s one of my favourite things about the house, though I haven’t had an opportunity to experience a shower with somebody else in here before.

I take the shower gel bottle and squeeze some out onto my palms. But instead of washing my own body, I put my hands on her. She lets me soap down her arms, her back, then travel around to the front and cup her breasts.

“You heard me say that I’m running late, right?” she retorts. There’s little argument in her tone.

“Just helping you get clean,” I say, kissing the side of her neck.