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‘Yes?’ the woman opposite asks, running her palm higher so her fingertips graze my cock. I fight an impulse to dash her hand away.
I’ve been in this bar for the better part of the night. I have no concept of what time it is. But another Scotch doesn’t feel like the answer.
‘Let’s go,’ I say, standing up, reaching for her hand and holding it as though it is the talisman that will save me from the nightmare I’ve woken up in. ‘Now.’
* * *
The air is frigid against me as we step out of the cab. My place is just down the street a little way. Whatever-Her-Name-Is is slightly uneven on high heels and with a shitload of alcohol in her system. Drunk messy sex is going to get Holly and her fucking therapy session out of my head.
This is the therapy I need!
‘So,’ the woman purrs, snuggling up beside me, so I wrap an arm around her waist, holding her there, refusing to compare her slim, hard figure to Holly’s beautiful, soft undulations. ‘You’re rich.’
I laugh. ‘Am I?’
‘You have, like, two thousand pounds in your wallet and you live here,’ she says, shrugging her shoulders.
She must have seen my cash when I paid for the cab. And, as for where I live, I suppose it is a sign of wealth. I look towards the steps; it is dark, but a light from just down the street highlights the outline of a figure on my steps, hunched over.
A tramp?
I am already reaching for my wallet, happy to throw a few hundred quid his way, when the figure straightens and I stop walking, my heart jerking frantically inside me.
Holly.
She is as surprised as I am, her face pale, her eyes frantic, her lips parted.
She was waiting for me and instead she got us. Me and a woman whose name I don’t know, who is practically drooling at the thought of being in my bed.
What we are about to do is impossible to misinterpret. So I don’t bother insulting Holly’s intelligence by pretending. By apologising. I meant what I said in her office. We’re done.
‘Noah.’ The word is tortured from her, a groan that reaches inside me and snaps what little self-control I have left. I turn to the woman beside me, the woman who doesn’t even want to know my name, and smile.
‘Go inside, sweetheart. I’ll be in soon.’
‘Don’t keep me waiting,’ she murmurs, standing up on tiptoe and nipping my earlobe.
Holly gasps as though she’s been stabbed. My gut responds accordingly.
I unlock my door and hold it inwards while Skinny Model Girl teeters in. I pull the door shut afterwards, giving Holly my full attention.
‘What are you doing?’ she whispers, her knuckles white as she grips the railing behind her.
‘Isn’t that obvious?’
Her eyes are huge. ‘You don’t... You don’t want to do this, Noah.’
‘Oh, believe me, I do.’ And maybe it’s seeing Holly, maybe it’s a reaction to the panic inside me, but my cock is hard. I grab Holly’s hand and palm her across my front.
Tears sparkle in her eyes. Fuck. Not tears. I can’t handle that, and nor can I handle her.
‘What do you want?’ I ask bleakly, my buzz disappearing. I am stone-cold sober now.
‘I... Noah...’ She swallows, lost for words. She hadn’t prepared for this. ‘I can’t do this while she’s here.’
‘Do what?’ I demand. ‘I told you today, we’re done. I meant it. This is who I am, Holly. This guy. Not the man yo
u think you can make me.’
