‘How old are you, Juno?’ I ask her gently, hoping to draw her out of her shell and gain her trust. Her shoulders are rigid and her chin dipped as if she’s pulled herself inward for protection. It makes me want to smooth my fingers down her spine to help her relax. She doesn’t seem to be able to look at me. Instead she’s playing with the cocktail menu, lining it up with the edge of the table.
‘Twenty-two.’
‘Why are you so eager to lose your virginity? Twenty-two isn’t old to still be a virgin.’
She takes a stuttering breath and finally looks up at me. ‘Because it seems to me that in order to be sexy you need to have had sex. At least, all the women I know that attract men’s attention are the ones that are really comfortable in their own skin. They ooze sex appeal. And none of them are virgins.’
‘How can you be sure?’ I ask, picking up the whisky sour I’ve ordered and taking a sip.
‘I’ve asked them.’
The drink gets caught in the back of my throat, making me cough.
‘Wow. So, what, you’ve just gone up to them and asked the question?’
‘Yes. For research purposes.’ She shrugs. ‘I like to investigate my subject thoroughly. It’s important to have all the information to be able to make an informed hypothesis.’
I frown, then flip it into a reassuring smile. ‘I don’t think you have to have had sex to be sexy. At least, not in my experience.’
‘Yes, well, unfortunately not everyone shares your viewpoint.’ She looks down at the table again.
‘Ah. So there’s another guy involved in this?’ I hazard a guess.
She visibly bristles. ‘Actually, I don’t think that’s any of your business.’ Her cheeks are bright pink and the expression in her eyes is defensive.
I hold up my hand. ‘Wait—you want me to take your virginity but you won’t tell me why?’
Her throat moves as she swallows. ‘That’s correct.’
I shake my head and frown, concerned about what I might be stepping into the middle of here.
‘I’m really not comfortable with saying yes to this unless I know why you want it. We need to be able to be open and honest with each other. It’s important we trust each other if we’re going to get that close and intimate,’ I say slowly, trying to sound as if I’m looking out for both our interests here.
She stares at me for a moment, then nods, and I can tell from the pained expression on her face that she’s been struggling with what she’s about to tell me. My gut clenches and I stretch back in the seat to ease it. It’s a troubling feeling and not something I’ve experienced much. I usually only get it when I come across a woman I really like but can’t have. Or one that I’m not supposed to have, at least.
‘Okay, fine. I suppose it is better if you know the whole story.’ She takes a shaky breath and splays her hands on the table, staring down at her fingers as she begins to talk. ‘There’s this man—Adam Cormack—he’s a lecturer at St George’s University where I’m doing my PhD.’ I see her swallow and a small pinch appears between her brows. ‘And I...er... I like him...a lot.’
‘But he’s not into you?’
She shuffles a little in her seat. ‘Well, he likes me, I think. We’ve been on a few dates, but I think he’s concerned about how...er...inexperienced I am. He’s a bit older than me and I think he’s looking for someone more like him. Well, not a man like him, but someone with the same sort of life experience as him.’
I smile. ‘You mean he doesn’t want to fuck you because you’re a virgin?’
The frankness of my words seems to shock her and her face flames, bright splashes of red highlighting her pale cheeks.
‘Yes,’ she mutters. ‘But in a much more gentlemanly way than you make it sound.’ She’s having trouble meeting my eye again and picks up her cocktail, taking a big gulp, then pushes her shoulders back in an obvious attempt to appear more confident, but it just looks stiff and awkward. My heart goes out to her. Her shyness is actually a real turn-on, if I’m honest.
‘He’s the only man I’ve ever felt this strongly about,’ she murmurs. ‘And I’ve decided it’s time to stop hiding under a rock, get out there and go for what I really want. And if that means showing him I’m worldly and mature enough to handle a relationship with him, then that’s what I’m going to do.’
I have a moment of unease where I worry that I’m about to take advantage of her heartache, but I push it firmly away. She came to me first, after all.
Clearly she’s sensed my concern, though, because she says, ‘Look, do you think you can help me or not? Because if you’re not interested I’m going to go and find someone who is.’ As if to prove her point, she stands up and reaches for her bag.
Panic ripples through me. I can’t let her walk away. I need this to work out.
‘Perhaps I could help,’ I say quickly, holding up a hand to halt her. ‘If we can agree on a couple of conditions.’
Her eyes widen with hope and she sits back down in her seat. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Okay.’ I nod. ‘I want you to come to Florence with me for a week, go out on some dates with me there, so we can get to know each other first. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me but it’s not my style to just jump into bed with a woman without getting to know her a little first. And honestly...’ I lean forward, giving her a friendly smile ‘... I think you’ll be more comfortable with the whole situation if we handle it that way. With a little class.’
‘Classy sounds good.’
‘You know, that way you could put some photos of the two of us looking happy together on social media. You never know, Adam might see them, assume you’re dating me and realise what a fool he’s been passing you up. Believe me, there’s nothing like jealousy to motivate a guy to action,’ I add as a further incentive.
She shakes her head, wrinkling her nose in disdain. ‘I despise the whole social media circus and avoid it as much as possible. I loathe the idea of everyone knowing exactly where I am and what I’m doing all the time. And I really hate having my photo taken. I had a horrible experience with the press in my teens.’ She shudders. ‘Death by public scrutiny.’
‘Right,’ I say, feeling my heart sink. ‘Okay, then, no photos.’ At least, none she’ll be aware of. I’ll have to make sure that the photographers I call will be discreet. I try not to feel bad about not telling her we’re basically going to be courting the Italian press while we’re there. It sounds as if it’ll be better if she assumes they’re following us off their own bat. It’ll be less complicated that way. And it’ll seem more natural if she looks genuinely surprised to be photographed with me. Anyway, they’ll be positive pictures. They’ll make her look good. I’ll make sure the photographers agree to that when I call to tip them off about where we’ll be.
‘Why do we need to go all the way to Florence?’ she asks, apparently confused by that particular detail, which I guess is understandable.
I play it cool and give a nonchalant shrug. ‘I’ve promised to house-sit an apartment there for a couple of weeks and after that I’ll be too busy to help you.’
‘So if I go out with you on a few dates first, you’ll help me out with my...issue?’
‘I’ll teach you anything you want to know about how to please a guy in bed. When I’m done, believe me, this guy Adam won’t be able to resist you.’
I see her throat work as she swallows hard and a spike of disquiet pierces my chest.
‘My only caveat is no full sex,’ I add, to try and exonerate my guilt. ‘I’ll let him have that honour. You’ll be grateful to me later when you realise what a big emotional deal it is to lose your virginity to someone you care about.’
She frowns, thinks about it, then asks, ‘Did you lose yours to someone you cared about?’
‘No,’ I grunt, unwilling to go any further with that line of conversation. ‘So I know what I’
m talking about. There’s plenty of other stuff we can do, though,’ I murmur, giving her a teasing smile and moving my leg gently to press against hers. I’m rewarded with another full-face blush and, predictably, my cock springs to attention.
‘Why are you doing this for me?’ she asks, her voice sounding a little husky now. ‘Especially after the horrendous way I acted last night.’
‘Charity begins at home, right?’ I take another sip of my whisky then smile at her over the rim of the glass, feeling guilt gnaw at my insides. ‘And because I can’t resist a challenge like this, especially when it involves someone as pretty as you.’ I lean forward in my chair, ignoring the uncomfortable tension building in my chest. ‘It’ll be my absolute pleasure to help you out, Juno.’
This, at least, is the God’s honest truth. I pause and take another sip of my drink to give myself a moment to refocus my thoughts on the issue at hand and stop them from wandering towards all the physical delights I’m going to take great satisfaction in introducing her to.
‘Just so we’re clear, it’ll just be for the time we’re in Florence. After that we’ll go our separate ways. You towards your lecturer guy and me back to the uncomplicated lifestyle I love.’
From the look on her face, I can tell she’s seriously thinking it over.
‘I have a lot of work to do for my PhD, though. I can’t be away for too long,’ she says slowly, almost to herself.
‘Bring your laptop with you. You can work during the day and hang out with me in the evenings.’
‘Would that work? I need quiet to be able to concentrate.’
‘Sure. I can entertain myself when you’re busy,’ I say, trying not to think about how bored I’ll be sloping around the city on my own. I guess I should consider it karmic payback for losing my cool and punching that guy in the face.
‘My father’s mistress’s apartment, where we’ll be staying, is right in the centre of Florence and it has a study where you can work in the daytime without being distracted,’ I reassure her.
She blinks at me, her eyes wide with astonishment. ‘You know about your father’s mistress? And you’re prepared to stay in her flat?’
I shrug. ‘Of course. She’s a lovely woman. I get on really well with her. They’ve been together for years.’
She shakes her head, looking utterly scandalised now.
‘Doesn’t your mother mind?’
Again, I shrug. ‘I don’t think so. Their marriage was arranged for convenience so I don’t think they’ve ever really loved each other. They’re very fond of each other, though, and they work well together as a team, so I don’t think they’ll ever split up. Not when the family’s reputation is at stake. Reputation is everything to my father.’
Her expression tells me she’s still completely baffled by the idea of that but I guess you have to live it to understand it.
‘So are you up for it, Juno?’ I press, wanting it absolutely confirmed.
She nods, confidently this time. ‘Yes. I accept your conditions.’ She leaves a small pause before adding, ‘I’ve not had a holiday in ages because I’ve been so focussed on my work—which isn’t particularly healthy, I know—so I suppose it’ll be good for me to take a break away from London.’
‘Great. Then we’ll fly out tomorrow.’
‘Okay. Tomorrow.’
I raise my glass, and when she does too I clink mine against it. ‘A nuove esperienze.’
‘To new experiences,’ she repeats.
‘You speak Italian?’ I ask, impressed.
‘Yes, some. Enough to avoid any embarrassing misunderstandings, I hope,’ she replies, grinning shyly for the first time since she arrived. She has a killer smile and the sight of it warms my chest.
I don’t quite know how it’s happened, but I seem to have landed on my feet here. I now get to spend the next week in bed with this enigmatic woman and all in the name of doing the right thing.
Yeah. This could actually turn out to be a lot of fun.
CHAPTER THREE
Juno
WE FLY OUT to Florence in Sandro’s family’s private plane the following afternoon, though we only just make our scheduled take-off slot, because he was half an hour late picking me up from my flat in his low-slung Italian sports car and has to put his foot down to get us to the airport.
He seems totally unconcerned about his tardiness, though, and throws me the merest of apologies when I raise my eyebrows and pointedly look at my watch.
He’s such a cool customer. I wish I could be so nonchalant.
Upon boarding the plane we’re shown to our seats—two large, cream leather armchairs positioned next to each other in a cabin that only holds six more. It’s a small plane but beautifully upholstered with silk wall linings and soft wool carpets. We take off only minutes later and I settle in for the two-hour journey sitting next to Sandro, my pulse on a high tickover as I breathe in his delicious scent and think about how much closer I’m going to have to get to him over the next week—though not, it seems, as close as I’d initially hoped.
At first I’d been a bit miffed that he was still refusing to take my virginity but, the more I thought about it, the more I’d come round to his point of view. He was probably right. It was a hell of a thing to ask of him and I’ll most likely be glad to have more of an emotional connection with the person I finally lose it to. Someone I’ll be in love with, perhaps.
In the meantime, I hope just by hanging out with him some of his charisma will rub off on me. And, if not, I have a week to study the way he acts and interacts with people, which I can then apply to my dealings with Adam when I get back. Perhaps he will hear about my ‘relationship’ with Sandro, realise I’m not the ingénue he thought I was and regret calling a halt to our burgeoning relationship after only a couple of dates.
I can only hope.
Once the plane is on a steady course we’re served drinks by one of the elegantly dressed cabin crew. I watch Sandro out of the corner of my eye while I pretend to read the guidebook to Florence that I’d picked up the day before in the bookshop round the corner from my flat in Notting Hill. He rolls his cut-glass tumbler round and round in his hands. He has a restless sort of energy about him, as if he finds it hard to sit still and is always on the verge of getting up to do something else. He was the same in the bar where we had the drink and I agreed to this proposal. He flipped the drinks menu round and round in his fingers as we talked, as if he needed something to do with them. It made me wonder whether he’d been a smoker and now needed something in his hands with which to distract himself. As he twists the glass I marvel at the perfection of his long fingers with their square, blunt nails and wonder how he’ll touch me with them, how it’ll feel to have his hands on my body. All over my body. I squirm in my seat as a wave of heat rushes through me, pooling at the juncture of my thighs.
Right at this moment I can totally sympathise with his need to move about.
Just sitting still next to him in our plush leather seats, I can feel the attraction pulling taut between us. At least from my side. He’s brought out a plethora of physical reactions in me. My heartbeat is accelerated, my skin hypersensitive and rushing with sensation and there’s an insistent throb between my thighs that’s steadily building the longer I sit here—as if my body craves something with which I’m not providing it.
It’s a hot, heavy want.
‘You know, I’ve never understood why people rave so much about sex. Practically speaking, it seems like it’d be a messy and uncomfortable thing to do,’ I mutter out loud to try and distract myself from these alien feelings.
He turns to look at me with a quizzical expression in those piercing eyes of his.
‘And how can people let it wreck their lives?’ I add nervously, realising I now have his full attention. ‘It’s just a physical act, right? Perfectly natural, and obviously imperative for continuing the hum
an race, but surely it’s not something to destroy a marriage over? What drives people to do that—to cheat on their partners? Just for the thrill of sex with someone else? I don’t understand how it can be so overwhelming an urge that people are willing to do pretty much anything to get it.’
He shrugs. ‘Passion is an irrational thing.’
‘Passion? But that suggests emotions, feelings.’
‘Not necessarily. It can be a basic human urge. That’s a totally different thing.’
‘So you think it’s possible to have sex with someone without having feelings for them?’
He sits round in his chair, his knee brushing mine and sending an electric thrill of sensation through my whole body. ‘I think it’s perfectly possible. Otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed to my part of the bargain. What I think you’re talking about is something different. More than just the physical need for sex. When people cheat there are always other feelings at play. Insecurity about what they have or low self-worth. Or perhaps a fear they’re missing out on something they’ll regret not experiencing in years to come. I think, for others, the rush of sex with someone new after years of fucking their partner the same, predictable way can be like taking an addictive drug. That’s just pure laziness, of course. There’s no reason for sex to get boring. You have to work hard at being creative.’
‘Are you creative?’ I ask, though I think I already know the answer to that.
‘You bet your sweet ass I am,’ he confirms with an underwear-melting smile.
‘I knew you’d say that,’ I mumble, my throat tight with nerves.
‘Are you suggesting I’m predictable?’ he teases.
I can’t help but grin, which breaks the tension.
He grins back and for a moment I’m lost in the dizzying intimacy of the moment.
I clear my throat. ‘Have you ever felt that sort of passion for someone?’
For a second he glances away, up towards the ceiling. ‘No.’ Sitting back in his chair, he moves his leg away from mine and fixes me with a serious expression.
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