I shrug. “It just always seems to be what people are doing when they have a surprise whole-day birthday present.”

“Charlie, I doubt your hair would ever fit in a helmet, so parachuting is definitely out.”

“You weren’t complaining about my hair when I stroked your cock with it last night,” I say and laugh when he chokes on his pastry.

“Oh, you’ve done it now,” he says darkly and throws himself on me.

“Misha, the tray,” I protest as I fall backwards.

“Ignore it. I need to tick stupendous sex off my checklist for the day.”

“Oh, are we bringing someone else in to give it to me?” I say innocently and then shout in laughter as he tickles me.

The laughter slowly turns to groans and sighs as Misha attends to his checklist.

A couple of hours later, I follow Misha down the street. He’s carrying a weekend bag, and we’re both wearing jeans and jumpers, our jackets slung over my arm.

“Are we having a drive out?” I ask. “This is where you park the car.”

“I can tell you’ve been to university,” he says as we cross the road. “You’re so quick.”

“Not as quick as you this morning,” I say and laugh as he grinds to a stop.

“Charlie Burroughs, you know very well that when you do that special thing, you get one result, and what is that?”

“You come quickly,” I say, trying not to laugh. “I can’t help being a sexual temptress.”

“Life is a lot more interesting when you spend your time reading books with men’s abs on them.”

“Those are book club choices,” I protest and his laughter echoes around the car park. I follow him as he walks down a level, shivering and pulling my coat on. It’s cold down here.

Finally, he comes to a stop, and I look round in consternation. “Why have we stopped?”

He gestures at the car he’s standing next to. It’s a bright cherry-red Volkswagen Golf. “Ta-da!”

“Ta-da, what?” I say in mystification. “Have you had some sort of brain freeze? That’s not your car.”

“No,” he says and guides me around until I see the enormous blue bow wrapped around the front of the car. “It’s yours.”

“What the fuck?” I breathe. I look at Misha who is grinning ear to ear like a small boy. There is no sign at all of his legendary smoothness. “What have you done?”

“Bought you a car.”

“Oh my God,” I breathe, as he drops our bag to the floor. “I was expecting a Toblerone and a Waterstones voucher.” He opens his arms, and I automatically step into them, feeling his body heat warm me. I reach out and run my hand down the silky coldness of the car roof. “You really bought me a car?”