I would ask myself how I come to be here, but I really don’t need to ask that question if Jesse was in the bar. I grasp the bedding, lifting the sheets to look under the covers. Well, I have my bra and pants on, so I can’t imagine any Jesse style fucking went down. I smile to myself.

Oh Lord, I need a toothbrush and some water, pronto. I gingerly push myself up, untangling myself from the bedding as I go, reveling in the waft of Jesse’s scent as it hits my nostrils. Every slight movement crashes into my poor head. When I’m on my feet, stood in just my underwear, I stagger. I’m still drunk.

‘And how is my lady lush this morning?’ His voice is smug. Why didn’t he stop me drinking? He saunters over to me, looking too fucking delicious in his tight, white boxer shorts and with his morning messy hair. I know I probably look awful, with my loose hair and crusty make-up.

‘Terrible.’ I confess moodily. Was that me speaking? I’m throaty. I hear him chuckle to himself. If I could coordinate my movements, I would swing at him. I feel his arms wrap around me, and I’m thankful for the support. I bury my head in his chest and could, quite easily, drift back off to sleep.

‘Do you want some breakfast?’ he asks, stroking my hair. Even his soft rubs against my skull are unbearably loud, and I nearly vomit at the thought of food. He must feel my dry heaves and body jerks because he laughs again. ‘Just some water then?’

‘Please.’ I mumble into his chest.

‘Come here.’ He scoops me up and carries me downstairs to the kitchen, placing me on the worktop gently.

‘Oh!’ Shit, that’s cold!

He laughs, easing his grip away slowly, like he’s afraid I might fall off. I might do, I feel God awful. I grab the edge of the worktop to steady myself and watch, through half open eyes, as Jesse opens almost every cupboard in the kitchen before he finds the one with the glasses in.

‘You don’t know where you keep your own glasses?’

He rummages through a drawer, pulling out a white sachet. ‘I’m learning. My housekeeper tried to tell me, but I was a little distracted.’ He rips the sachet open and tips it into a glass. The muscles of his back roll as he gets a bottle of water from the fridge, filling the glass quickly, before walking back over to me. ‘Alka-Seltzer. It’ll sort you out within half an hour. Drink,’

I reach to take it from him, but my arms won’t liaise with my brain. Without a word, he moves between my thighs and lifts the glass to my lips for me. I guzzle the lot.

‘More?’

I shake my head. ‘I’m never drinking again.’ I mumble, falling forward onto his chest.

‘That would please me so much. You’re very argumentative when you’re drunk.’ He strokes my back.

‘I am?’ I don’t remember.

‘Yes, promise me you won’t get in that state when I’m not around to look after you.’

‘Did we argue?’ I ask. I remember the toilet dispute, but we were friends after that.

He sighs. ‘No, I submitted power temporarily.’

‘That must have been a challenge.’ I reply dryly.

He reaches up, snapping my bra strap. ‘It was, but you’re worth the effort.’ He turns his face into me, kissing my hair before pulling back and focusing his stare on my semi-naked state. ‘I love you in lace.’ he says softly, tracing the top of my knickers. ‘Shower?’ I nod against his shoulder, wrapping my arms and legs around him as he slides me from the counter.

I’m carried back through the penthouse, upstairs into the bathroom and put on my feet outside the shower. I’m left briefly as he turns the shower on. I feel wobbly. As soon as he’s in front of me again, I flop forward onto his chest.

‘You are feeling sorry for yourself, aren’t you?’ He picks me up and places me on the vanity unit. ‘I have fond memories of you sat exactly here.’

I frown to myself, but then realise…our first sexual encounter happened in here on the launch night of Lusso. I look up into hazy, green eyes staring down at me. ‘You finally got me where you wanted me, didn’t you?’

He cups his hand on my cheek. ‘It was always going to happen, Ava.’ He grabs his toothbrush, squirts some toothpaste on and runs it under the tap. ‘Open.’ he orders.

He sets about brushing my teeth gently, holding my jaw in his free hand. I watch him concentrate on his small, circling movements around my mouth as my dance floor revelation comes back to me – the moment that I finally admitted to myself that I have, most definitely, fallen in love with this man. I wasn’t so drunk when that little realisation crashed into my wine drenched brain. My aim to avoid exactly this has been well and truly trampled. I’ve fallen in love with this arrogant, forceful, God like creature.

Bollocks! I reach up to cup his stubbled cheek in my hand, and his eyes jump to mine, his lips parted ever so slightly. He stops brushing and turns his face into my palm, kissing it tenderly. Yep, I love him. Oh God, what am I going to do?

‘Spit.’ he says quietly against my hand.

I drop my hand from his face and lean over the sink to rid my mouth of toothpaste before returning to face him. Running his thumb across my lip, he collects some stray paste and slides his thumb in his mouth to clean off what he’s swept up.

‘Thank you.’ I utter through my cracked voice.

The corner of his mouth cocks into a half smile. ‘It’s just as much for my benefit as it is for yours.’ He smiles, leaning in and kissing me soft and slow on the lips, his tongue sweeping through my mouth tenderly. I sag on a sigh. ‘You’re rubbish at hangovers. Is there anything I can do to make it better?’ He pulls me off of the unit, so I’m stood before him, and reaches around to clinch my bum, effectively holding me up.

‘Have you got a gun?’ I ask him seriously. That would cure my pounding head.

He laughs a proper belly laugh. ‘That bad, huh?’

‘Yes, why is it so funny?’

‘It’s not, I’m sorry.’ He straightens his face and runs his middle finger down the side of my cheek. ‘I’m going to make it all better now.’

Oh? Alcohol, quite clearly, has not killed off my libido because every dehydrated nerve ending has just sprung to life. I must look hideous, and he’s getting all fresh with me? We’re not on even ground here. He’s fierce and God damn delectable in his morning roguishness, smelling all musky, mixed with fresh water. I, on the other hand, have a hangover from Hell and must resemble something like a scarecrow, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered.

He reaches around my back, unclasps my bra and removes it before leaning down and giving each one of my nipples a quick peck. They harden instantly under the brief contact from his lips, my breasts becoming heavy burdens on my chest. My body has been completely distracted from the after affects of alcohol and is now buzzing all over in anticipation of his touch.

As his head raises and his lips find mine, my hands slide up his arms and delve into his soft, blonde mass of hair. Oh God I’ve missed this. It’s only been four days, but I’ve missed it so much, it frightens me.

‘You’re addictive,’ he breathes against my mouth. ‘We’re going to make friends properly now.’

‘Are we not friends?’ I ask. My voice is breathy and desperate.