Dermot pulled her T-shirt out of her jeans and up. He was kissing her tummy, fiddling with the button of her jeans when he seemed to come to his senses. ‘Laura? Do you want this?’

‘Mmm,’ she said, nodding her head urgently, thinking that if he stopped she would die. She knew she had the rest of her life to regret it but she felt she’d rather regret something she’d done than something she hadn’t.

Now it was she pulling at his clothes, freeing his shirt so she could feel his skin under her fingers, against her cheek.

‘We don’t want carpet burn,’ he said. ‘Come on.’

She wanted to object, sure that if they went upstairs her sanity would return, and she didn’t want it to. She didn’t have a chance to say anything. He took hold of her wrist and dragged her behind him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

She just had long enough to take in the fact that there was a clean sheet on the bed, untucked, not straight but clean, before he was unzipping her jeans and pulling them down, dragging off her socks before throwing her on to the bed. She started to giggle helplessly, delirious in her happiness.

‘We’ve been here before,’ he breathed. ‘Do you want to back out?’

‘No. I don’t.’

‘Any time you change your mind . . .’

‘I won’t change my mind. I’m stone-cold sober, and I won’t change my mind.’

‘I won’t either,’ he breathed.

After the first breathless rush they experienced downstairs, Dermot now took his time, removing the remainder of Laura’s clothes with sensual care. The rest of his own clothes were pulled off and kicked away.

Laura swallowed as she returned his gaze, serious and tender now. Then, lying on the bed next to her, he supported himself with his arm and continued to gaze at her body. Instead of feeling self-conscious she felt like a flower opening under the warmth of the sun.

‘You are so beautiful, darling Laura,’ he breathed, and she felt beautiful and so sexy she thought she’d dissolve.

Then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and drew his finger down her cheek, along her jawline to her chin before going back to her ear, down her neck to her shoulder.

‘Your skin is like silk. Sorry, that’s not a very original way to describe it but it’s the best I can do at the moment.’

She giggled lovingly. ‘It’s all right, I don’t mind if you don’t make love to me in iambic pentameters.’

He kissed the inside of her elbow. ‘That’s good, I much prefer free verse.’

‘And free love,’ she murmured, but he may not have heard because he didn’t answer.