Then she threw herself at him.

At first, Priest thought she was attacking him before he realised her mouth was biting down on his neck and she had hooked her hands around his waist, until he fell back against the wall.

She kissed him, long and clumsily, her tongue finding his immediately, sending a surge of lust down through his body to where she was desperately scrabbling at his trouser belt. He tucked his hands around her backside and spun her around, pushing her against the wall and she gasped as he pulled her skirt up, finding the top of her tights and tearing them away.

‘Did she give you want you wanted?’ she hissed in his ear, throwing his belt to the floor.

‘It wasn’t what it seemed,’ he grunted, her insinuation fuelling the disgust and shame that enveloped him. He took her leg, pulling it around the small of his back, opening her up for him. She had him in her hand, stroking his shaft but it wasn’t enough – he wanted more, he wanted her. He pulled her hand away, pressed himself against her.

‘No, wait,’ she begged.

‘I want you.’

‘I’m not ready for this.’

He exhaled loudly with frustration, pulling her head back so he could suck on her neck. ‘Jessica . . .’

‘I need you to know that if you do this, then it doesn’t make me yours. I don’t belong to you.’

She was fighting for breath, barely able to breathe out the words as he kissed her again. She pulled his hand over her breast. He fumbled for the buttons on her shirt, tugging the first open, then the second before running his hand across her bare chest, reaching the point of no return.

‘Fine,’ he gasped, exasperated. ‘You don’t belong to me.’

She relaxed, closed her eyes. He positioned himself between her legs, entered her, and she moaned with what Priest knew was a desire as raw as his own.

Chapter 40

Chapter 40

The owner finished masturbating and lay still, panting, stretched out on the damp bed sheets. There was a portable gas fire in the corner turned up full blast and the room was enveloped in oppressive, hot air. In the distance, jackdaws squabbled on the abandoned railway line.

The owner had seen the headlines, they were everywhere: ELIAS FOUNDATION LIBEL WITNESS FOUND DEAD IN CAR BOOT. But why wasn’t the source of the story ever mentioned? It was infuriating that credit wasn’t given to those who deserved it. The limelight was always stolen by less talented, egotistical fuckwits.