Page 55 of The Love Hack

And so it happened again – that night, and the night after, and almost every night for the next three weeks. The kisses in the silent office, the tumult of desire that swept over like a tsunami, Kieren eventually, gently, insisting that we stop and go home; the notes on my desk the next day.

I didn’t tell anyone what was going on – partly because I didn’t fully understand what was happening between us. We weren’t dating; we hadn’t slept together. We’d only kissed. If Kieren had bundled me on to the floor and had sex with me, there’s no way I’d have objected – I wanted it more than I’d wanted anything in my life.

But he didn’t – not until almost a month after our first kiss in the lift.

It was a Wednesday afternoon and we were all on deadline, stressed and snappy. As a junior, my role was to step in and help whenever help was needed – and try to look busy when it wasn’t. So when an email arrived in my inbox, I sprang into high alert – first with alarm and then with a kind of dizzy excitement.

It was from Kieren. The subject line was, ‘Can you stay tonight once everyone’s done?’

He’d never emailed me before. He’d communicated either by those hand-written notes, or by walking across the office to find me.

My hand trembling so much I could barely control the mouse, I clicked on the email.

I don’t think I can wait any longer, Lucy. I want you so much. Do you want me?

K

I fumbled for the Reply button and typed one word: ‘Yes.’

The rest of the day passed in an agony of anticipation. Every time it seemed we were about to be able to sign off and go to press, someone would find an error and it would have to corrected, checked and re-checked, the pages processed again and sent off. Every time I turned to look for Kieren, his head would be bent over his work, a dark line of sweat staining the back of his shirt.

At last, at almost nine o’clock, we were done. No one cheered – there was nothing to celebrate, just another Wednesday, another edition put to bed. But I felt no release of tension – it had been building in me all day, a mix of anticipation and nervousness, and now I felt like it was reaching its crescendo. I waiting, barely daring to breathe, as the office gradually emptied.

At last, some sixth sense told me that Kieren had got up from his desk and when I turned to look, I saw I was right. I stood up too. Our eyes met across the empty office and he smiled – a smile full of promise.

My weariness melted away. I stood up, my knees stiff from sitting for so long, and walked over to him.

‘My God,’ he said, ‘you’re the sweetest thing I’ve seen all day. A sight for sore eyes – literally.’

I laughed; my own eyes were dry and burning.

‘Lucy,’ he said, his face serious, the harsh light casting shadows on his skin, making him look older, and tired. ‘Will you promise me something?’

‘I – yes, of course.’

‘Don’t tell anyone in the office about this. About us.’

It hadn't occurred to me to – up until that night, there’d been nothing to tell.

‘I won’t, if you don’t want me to,’ I said. ‘But why?’

‘You know what it’s like. A hotbed of gossip. I’m older than you. I don’t want to damage your reputation. I don’t want people talking about you – seeing you like that. You’re precious to me, and I want to keep this special, just between us. All right?’

‘Pinkie promise,’ I said, and he laughed.

‘You’re so cute. Come here.’

Pushing aside my apprehension, I stepped into his arms, waiting for his kiss. Except tonight there would be more than a kiss – I was about to have sex. Not for the first time ever, but for the first time in absolutely ages, with a man I fancied who must, surely, fancy me back – otherwise why was I here?

His lips met mine, and immediately I felt reassured – that familiar, magical kiss, the kiss I’d dreamed about for weeks. Just the same as it had been in the office, although now there’s be no disappointment, no reluctant moving apart and going home.

This was the start of something new – something special, like he’d said.

I closed my eyes, letting myself get lost in his kiss, feeling the surge of desire it always awoke in me, tinged this time with additional excitement. My fingers found the buttons of his shirt and fumblingly undid them until I could slip my hands onto his chest – that smooth skin I’d yearned to touch, the hard arc of his ribs, the slight softness around his waist. He eased my dress up over my head and unhooked my bra, gasping as he touched my breasts.

‘God, you’re beautiful,’ he said. ‘Like a flower.’

He eased my tights over my bottom and down my legs, kneeling to remove my shoes. I heard the clink of his belt buckle and the swish of fabric against skin as he took off his jeans.

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