He was looking at her strangely. She saw now how dry and hollow his cheeks looked, a thin layer of stubble over his jaw, his upper lip. But it was the intensity of his gaze that made something catch in her throat – fervent and desperate. She had the strangest impulse to reach out her hand and gently cup his cheek.

The laptop in its box was heavy and awkward in her arms, and she felt weak and a little shaky, so she put it back down on the countertop so she could face him properly.

‘I shouldn’t have sent you that picture,’ she admitted.

‘Listen, it was my fault. I should never have encouraged you to do that. Jesus, I feel awful, like some kind of creepy auld fella. But, I dunno, things were not so great between me and Becca, we’d had a row and she’d stormed off taking Jo with her. I was here on my own, having a few beers, feeling a bit lonely – not that that’s an excuse. But as soon as you responded, I knew it was wrong. That I shouldn’t have done it. It scared me a bit. And I know it was cowardly of me not to reply. I should have at least tried to explain to you.’

He let out a long breath and shook his head, stared at the floor.

Quietly, she said: ‘When I didn’t hear back from you, I just assumed you didn’t like what I’d sent.’

He looked up quickly, an expression of confusion on his face. ‘Not like it? My God, that picture was fucking amazing.’

She saw the wonder now in his gaze. ‘It was the hottest thing that’s happened to me in years,’ he told her, and then he put his hands on her waist and kissed her and all her thoughts slowed right down.

His lips felt dry against hers, she tasted beer on his tongue, warmth flooding her bloodstream. It amazed her that this was happening, that he was pressing her back against the counter, the force of his body against her. She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, feeling him press closer to her, his tongue hungrily exploring her mouth, his hands roaming quickly over her back and hips, unable to settle. His wife and child were right upstairs and here Eva was with him, in the kitchen, giving vent to their lustful feelings – the thought of how brazen and wrong it was just made her more excited. When Ross’s hand slipped down the front of her jeans, she had to mash her face against the brushed cotton of his T-shirt to muffle the cry that came up her throat. Her hips pushed against him, her pelvis working quickly over the slick of his fingers, shocked and thrilled by the lust that had stirred to life between them.

A sudden clatter overhead made them pull apart.