Shit! I look at her lying on my chest, still trying to catch her breath. “Was I too hard on you? You know, for your first time?”

  She looks up at me. “What do you think?”

  “You look happy.”

  “I am happy. You weren't too hard on me. I loved it. Everything.”

  “Even the pain?”

  “Well, maybe not that. But it was soon over. And I needed you inside me then. I didn't want to wait.”

  I stroke her hair and kiss the top of her head. She's like a human kitten draped around me, all soft and strokeable and purring with pleasure, but without the evil claws.

  “Hey, Amy, did you really just not want any of those other guys? What does Sandra mean by you can stop worrying about it? Were you worried?”

  “A bit. Long story.”

  “I've got all night. I want to know.”

  “I might have other plans for you,” she teases.

  “No chance. Not until you tell me.”

  “Okay then. Promise you won't laugh or get mad.”

  “I promise.”

  “When I was fifteen there was a guy in school I had a crush on. Brian was a popular guy, just about to go to college. All the girls liked him.”

  “I hate him already.” I kiss her on the nose.

  “Anyway, I was pleased he asked me out and we had fun on our date. I thought he liked me. He took me home in his car. Not many of the guys at our school had cars, so that was something else in my stupid head he had going for him too.”

  “Yeah, I remember how we used to envy the guys at school with cars.”

  “When we got around the corner from my house, he parked the car and kissed me and that was fine, but he wanted more and got annoyed that I wouldn't go any further. I had no experience with guys and I was only fifteen.”

  “Did he take no for an answer?”

  “He did, or he seemed to. But next day, all his friends sniggered when I walked past. I didn't know why. But after my date with Brian, I got asked out a lot, dates where I had to fight guys off more often than not. I got really fed up with this, and I gave one guy such a big knee in the groin to defend myself. At which point, I thought I'd really hurt him and apologized. Like I said, stupid, naïve me.”

  I reach out and run my hands over her knees. “Carry on. I'm just listening, but just checking out where your knees are.” She smiles and takes hold of my hand and kisses it.

  “This guy said he didn't know why I had turned into the mad bitch from hell when he tried to touch me. Everyone knew what kind of girl I was. When I asked him what he meant by that, he said Brian had told everyone what a slut I was and that I had some special tricks to please guys. He said he just wanted his fair share like all the other guys.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I told him Brian was a lying bastard and left him there at the club. I left school and went to nursing college soon after that, but after that experience, let's just say the hookup culture passed me by. And I had a couple of guys who didn’t like that I wouldn't sleep with them on a first date and called me frigid. Sandra understands, but she thinks I'm letting it all affect me too much and I shouldn't care what anyone thinks. Just do what I want to do.”

  “And is that what you did tonight?”

  “Yes. Sorry about dumping all that on you.”

  “I'm glad you told me.” I give her a hug. “I'm glad you stayed tonight.”

  “Me too.”

  “And there's one thing I'm especially glad about.”

  “What's that?”

  “You didn't use the knee technique on me.”

  She laughs. “The night is still young.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Amy

  We're all sticky and to my shame, the sheets are a mess. He runs a bath and lifts me into it. I sting a bit and then sink down into the lovely hot water while he changes the bed. When he's finished, he comes back and soaps me all over with a big soft sponge. And then gets in behind me and holds me in his arms.

  “Can you stay tonight?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Your dad won't run out with a shotgun when I take you home tomorrow?”

  “Only if you don't bring around the camels. But I have to go to work tomorrow. Maybe I should go home now.”

  He gets out of the bath, dries himself and puts on a robe, and then he holds a huge towel out for me and pats me dry. He lifts me over to the bed and puts me between the covers and I hear him turning out the lights in the apartment. I'm so sleepy after that bath I can hardly keep my eyes open.

  He gets into the bed and wraps himself around me like a spoon. I turn to him feeling his hardness against me. I reach out and touch him. “It’s okay if you want to.”

  “Shh,” he says, softly. “It can wait. You’re tired and I think you need sleep now more than anything.”

  I feel so cared for in his arms, and that’s the last thing I'm aware of until the early morning sun is filtering through the curtains.

  I turn and the bed is empty beside me, but I smell coffee and toast. Just what I need. I grab one of his shirts and put it on before going through to the kitchen.

  “That smells good.”

  “I was going to bring it to you. Morning.”

  “Morning.”

  I look at him and blush at the thought of the things we did last night. He says he'll give me a lift home and then to work. He has the day off. We're very polite. I gulp down the coffee, almost scalding my throat. The toast feels dry in my mouth.

  “Touch of the emojis, again,” he says, as I start fussing with washing plates and cups without meeting his eyes.

  He takes the dirty plates out of my hands and puts them on the counter and pulls me to him.

  “Don't overthink anything,” he says. “You enjoyed last night, didn't you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then that was good.”

  Oh god. He's dismissing me with a 'we both enjoyed that but we know that's all it was.' My heart sinks and I pull out of his grasp.

  “Hey! What are you doing?”

  “Getting my stuff. It seems like I outstayed my welcome.”

  “Not at all. I wanted you last night. I want you this morning. It was all I could do to let you sleep and not wake you in the night. And It's all I can do not to take you now over the counter with the toast crumbs. I'm exercising some control, here. Sorry how it came across. I don't want you to go, Amy. It's a pity you have to go to work.” He runs his thumb over my lips and I look up at him again. I think he means it.

  CHAPTER 19

  Ronan

  This is a whole new ball game for me. Wanting a woman to stay the night, being the one to suggest it. I'm normally the one to call the cab to send her home or to get home from her place. I have the cab company on speed dial.

  What happened to my “never get into the position where you care about some flaky woman leaving” rule? I thought they were all flaky. But I don't think Amy is. She seems more sensitive than the usual women I meet in bars and clubs. And fuck! Her first time! I love that I was her first. Is it strange that I want to be her last and only too, already? It has to be too soon for that.

  I take Amy home to pick up her things and then drop her off at the hospital. As she gets out of the car, she says, “Your mother is likely to get out sometime today. Maybe I'll see you if you're picking her up later.”

  “I was going to call and find out about that. So yes, if she's getting out I'll see you there.”

  Amy smiles at me, like she's hugging a secret. Maybe I just made her happy. I like that thought. I want her to be happy. I watched her sleep like a baby in my bed making little snuffling noises when she turned over.

  “I'll probably see you later then,” she says.

  “If you're there, you won't be able to keep me away. Maybe I'll have to check in one of these days.”

  “Don't you dare,” she says.

  “Why not?”

  “Firstly, I can't fraternize with the patients. I'll lose my job. And secondly…”

  “What?”

  “I don't want you to even joke about ending up in the hospital. Not with what you do.”

  “No fire got me yet.”

  “But you're in the thick of it all the time.”

  “I am. And then I get out of the thick of it.”

  “Don't you worry about something happening to you?”

  “I never think of that when I'm at work. I couldn't do my job if it did. Everything we do is designed to reduce the risk of bad things happening. So don't worry.”

  “I'll try not to,” she says.

  “If I miss you here, I'll call. And, Amy, when I say I'll call…”

  “You mean it.”

  She smiles at me and waves as she goes through the big double entrance doors.

  CHAPTER 20

  Amy

  I frown as I go into work. I know Ronan says everything is designed to reduce accidents among the crew, but then there was that newspaper article where Ronan went right in despite being told it was too risky. I have to put it out of my mind and get on with my job.

  Apart from that niggle at the back of my mind, I'm on a high and not tired at all. I slept so well in Ronan's arms. He's made me feel good about myself. Not dirty. At least, not dirty in a bad way. Just sexy and adorable. How can that be bad?

  It's strange to see his mother, knowing what he thinks of her. She's not the lady I thought she was. At first, I say good morning and run through the checks I need to do to fill in her chart. I have to pretend she's just another patient as I rush to get through the busy morning routine. Mid-morning, I visit her with the doctor who is checking to see if she's ready to go home. And then a while later, I help her get her things together.

  “My son, Ronan, is coming to get me today,” she says. Of course, I don't tell her I slept with him last night. How could I?

  “I don't think he'll ever forgive me. He just doesn't know what it was like.”

  She seems to want to talk and I can't help wanting to listen. I want to know what possessed her to walk out on her family. I can't imagine anyone doing that without something truly serious going on. Some kind of mental health condition. Something. No one just walks out.

  “Ronan worshipped his dad. They did everything together. It was my son this, my son that. His dad took him everywhere. He was a good dad. I can't say he wasn't. But he was a terrible husband. We got married because I was pregnant with Ronan. He said he stood by me, but he kept on about how I trapped him into marrying me.”

  She wipes away a tear and I pass her a tissue. “It's okay, Mrs. Kendall. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.” It's uncomfortable seeing that anguish, and I feel a fresh wave of guilt about not revealing I know her son. But she wants to go on, and it's difficult to confess I know him now, when she's told me part of the story already.

  “I wasn't ready to sleep with Ronan's father but he pushed me and I gave in. And then he blamed me. I think he loved the baby because he saw someone he could mold into his image. He thought a lot of himself. But he became more and more abusive to me.”

  “Did he hit you?”

  “Never openly. Not in front of Ronan. Not in public. Not anywhere it showed. He frightened me, made me feel worthless. But I loved my son. He was everything to me and he loved me too. I know he did. He was a lovely little boy and even as a young teen, he was a good kid. He was all I had and when we were alone it was perfect, but if his dad was there, it was the two of them together. I thought it was good for a boy to have a father who loved him so much, even if the father was cruel to me.”

  It still feels like she's telling me this under false pretenses, but I've heard her son tell his version of events, and I want to hear hers, too. Maybe she's had no one to tell.

  “Once, when my son was ten, I tried to tell him how things really were but even as I started to say your father is not everything you think he is, the look of disappointment on Ronan's face was enough to stop me from telling the whole story. I battled on for years. That man made me feel so useless that I didn't think I had a chance of making it on my own.

  “Then a friend offered me a job in her gift store. He went wild. I was getting some independence. I thought he was going to kill me so I fled. He always hid his contempt for me, his hatred. He'd talk to me at night in bed when he knew Ronan was asleep. He'd force himself on me. He'd hurt me any way he could. But in the end, he hurt me in the worst way possible—by making my son hate me. And then he died and it's too late.”

  “Can't you explain to your son now how things really were?”

  “I've tried to talk to Ronan about it a few times, but he shuts me down. He doesn't want to hear a word against his father. Especially now he's passed. He thinks I'm just making excuses when his father is not here to defend himself. I don't think Ronan has a clue what was going on with us. My husband was very careful. We weren't warm to each other but then a lot of families are probably like that. We didn't show affection to each other but we showed a lot to him.”

  I'm reeling from her revelation.

  When Ronan comes to pick up his mother, I want to tell him to give her a hug and to listen to her side, to give her a chance, but I don't dare interfere. He's solicitous but cold to her. And I know he's anything but cold.

  She gives me a hug and says, “Thank you for listening.”

  Ronan shoots me a look that smacks of exasperation and I just shrug because right then is not the time to deal with this.

  He calls me after my shift and asks me if I'm free at the weekend. He wants to take me to the beach.

  I can't wait to see him again. Our shift patterns are all over the place before that, so it's the first chance I'll have to see him.

  CHAPTER 21

  Ronan

  Amy talking to my mother makes me uneasy. I bet my mother tried to make herself look good, to give her sob story whatever it is, about my father not understanding her or something to excuse what she did. She's tried with me over the years but there's no excuse worth listening to.

  I don't want to spoil the weekend, though, and there's no reason for Amy to get involved in all that, so I let it drop. I'm taking her to Sandgate for a break away from the city.

  Saturday turns out to be a glorious day and I put the hood down on the car so we can feel the wind in our hair. Amy has her hair in a messy ponytail today where tendrils keep escaping. I love how relaxed she is about all that, but then the natural look suits her.

  As soon as we get to the house I've rented on the beach, we fall into each other's arms and clothes fly everywhere. She's already wet for me and makes it clear she wants me right then. I enter her hard and fast, the sound of the sea as a backdrop, light and prying eyes filtered out by the soft gauze drapes of the living room that looks out onto a deserted beach.

  And then we slow down and take our time to explore each other, to tease and explore, with our hands, our mouths, our bodies. It's pure bliss here far away from the city.

  Later, we barbecue sausages and, one appetite satisfied, Amy looks at me with that sparkle in her eyes again, and I raise my eyebrows at her. She laughs and I chase her along the beach and bend her over a rocky outcrop jutting from the dunes, rip off her tiny panties and take her there in the soft night air.

  We are like kids, free of any kind of obligation as we walk back along the beach hand in hand. Amy hums a little tune to herself. She's happy and I love being part of what is putting a smile on her face.

  Later in bed, she acts all sassy. I think it's deliberate and I pull her over my knee. “You want me to pull down your panties and spank you?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says. “I do.” And she giggles.

  “I'm going to spank you until your cheeks are pink and glowing and you beg me to fuck you,” I tell her. I'll stop if she asks me to, but I hope she won't. And she doesn't.

  She snuggles into me that night sleeping on her stomach—well-spanked, well-fucked. We both sleep right through the night, and make love again before breakfast, a lazy coming together of bodies that now know each other so well, but I'll never tire of looking at Amy. I'll never tire of touching her or tasting her or pleasing her.

  Fuck! I've got it bad.

  We know we'll have to go back to reality soon and go walking on the beach. We grin at each other when we pass the rocky outcrop from the day before. We run in and out of the icy waves breaking on the shore, our shoes in our hands, jeans rolled up, getting wet around the cuffs. Neither of us cares about wet jeans or sand. Life is perfect.

  “It's beautiful here.” Amy smiles at me. The sun brings out all the shades in her hair as the wind ruffles it and I smooth it down behind her ears and kiss her. She smells like summer and peaches.

  “Have you never been to this area?”

  “No. We used to go down to Brightrock when I was a kid, when we went to the seaside, not this way. Is this where you always used to go?”

  “Dad brought me to Helm Bay just up the coast all the time—fishing and flying a kite, clambering about rock pools and eating fish and chips. Wonderful happy days.”

  “Did your mother never go with you?”

  “She never wanted to. It was always boys together.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “What do you mean?” I hope Amy is not going to go on about my mother and ruin the day.

  “Maybe she did want to go. Maybe she felt shut out.”

  “What has she been saying to you? Did she say that?”

  “Nothing about the beach. No.”

  “Other things then?”

  “Yes. Maybe you should give her a chance to say her side of the story.”

  Amy's not smiling anymore. My fucking mother. Not this again. She's even trying to ruin my life now, when I thought I was done with all that. “How can you say that? You know what she did. I told you that. How can you take her side?”

  “Maybe you don't know everything that went on.”