He didn’t know what to do with this new stage in their relationship. There was her constant niggling presence in his mind and he had to come over – not just as her friend or colleague. Now that he was here with these flowers in his hand though, he felt foolish. He didn’t even know if Imogen liked flowers.

‘I’ll put those in water.’ She took the flowers and went into the kitchen, Adrian following. On the windowsill was a vase of what he supposed were dead flowers, although they looked more like a witch’s binding of dusty twigs. She pulled those out and put them in the bin, then started to fill the vase with water. He had been wrong before; he couldn’t take things slowly. That’s why he was here, now, with these stupid flowers. This collision course had been coming for some time, maybe from the moment they met.

Adrian walked up behind her and brushed her hair away from her neck. He kissed her on the very most inner part.

‘I can’t stop thinking about this … about us,’ he said, hoping he wasn’t alone in his feelings, knowing that he probably wasn’t. Now that they had put it out in the open, it had got worse. Maybe sex was the only way through it. Maybe once they had got that over with they could move on. Right now, it was at the very front of his mind and driving him to distraction.

Imogen turned and their lips met. Instead of the frenzied kiss they had shared before, this time he was slow and deliberate, soft and curious. She leaned back against the sink. Adrian reached behind her and turned the tap off that was running in the background. Imogen took a deep, heavy breath.

‘Me either.’ She put her lips on his and took his face in her hands.

The scent of coconut shampoo was all Adrian could smell as Imogen’s hair brushed against his face. He had put his hands on her before, but this time was different; there was no secret any more. He pushed his fingers in between hers.

‘Are you sure? We can’t go back if we do this,’ Adrian said.

‘I don’t think we can go back anyway,’ Imogen whispered. ‘Let’s go in the other room.’

She led him into the bedroom and sat him on the bed. Adrian watched as she pulled her jeans off before leaning forward, kissing him again and straddling his lap. This closeness was unfamiliar but not unwelcome. The warmth of her legs around his hips stirred him and he fell back onto his elbows. She unbuttoned his shirt and he watched her hands travel down his body. Seeing her touching him made him breathless. There was no darkness now, no secrecy. It was still light outside and he could see her legs across his pelvis – the only thing between them was three layers of fabric. He put his hands on her thighs and slid them towards her waist, catching the edge of her sweatshirt and dragging it upwards so he could see more. Imogen pulled the sweatshirt off. She wore a tight black vest that clung to every muscle. He looked at her grey pants, pressed against him, the tail end of the scar that ran the length of her torso tucked into the hem.