Page 78 of Match Point

I believe him.

My breaths come faster as he gradually increases the pressure of his thumb. When he slides two fingers inside me, my back arches as my hips instinctively rock into his hand. Heat flushing through my body, I clench my teeth, trying to be silent as he watches me closely, his gaze focused and intense. His fingers retreat and sink into me again, deeper this time, and I gasp, my fingernails sinking into the leather seat as he increases the pressure of his thumb. Oh God, he’s so good at this.

‘Kieran,’ I breathe, my muscles tightening around his fingers.

My whole body is flushed with heat and my toes are curling in my stilettos, my legs naturally falling open wider as I almost forget we’re not alone. He’s making me forget.

The indicator clicks come on as the car slows, reminding me.

My eyes dart nervously to the driver and Kieran slowly draws his hand away, gripping my thigh. Wound up and whimpering, I reluctantly bring my knees together, wanting nothing more than to ask Matthew to turn the car around. Damn it.

‘Here we are,’ Matthew announces cheerfully, and I hope he’s been oblivious to everything that’s been going on back here, although I have to admit that it was too hot for me to really care.

Still watching me intently, Kieran tips his head back against the headrest, his Adam’s apple bobbing. ‘Matthew, would you mind driving around for a bit longer before we pull up to the hotel? I’m going to need a minute to… calm my nerves.’

‘Of course,’ Matthew replies, driving on down the road and taking a left.

Glancing down at Kieran’s hands attempting to hide his erection isn’t helping me pull my focus from the pulsing heat between my legs. I turn to look out the window, suppressing a smile. Matthew takes a long route round and when we approach the entrance to the driveway of the hotel a second time a good few minutes later, he checks with Kieran in the rear-view mirror. Catching his eye, Kieran clears his throat.

‘Ready now, thank you.’ He turns to me, arching his brow. ‘So. Five minutes and then we leave?’

‘Make it three.’

He locks his eyes with mine, a dangerous smile playing across his lips.

21

A grand Victorian manor house set in a sprawling secluded estate, the whole of Warren House Hotel has been hired for the event tonight. There’s a red carpet but no paparazzi, just the official photographers hired by the organisers, and the ballroom looks spectacular with dozens of flickering candles and extravagant green and purple flower arrangements on display. A string quartet is playing in the far corner and staff are waiting on the entrance to greet you with long-stemmed flutes of Champagne. I gladly take one – I’m going to need as much confidence as I can get at such a glitzy event – while Kieran sticks to a soft drink, fourth round looming over him tomorrow.

From the moment we enter the party, Kieran barely leaves my side. Guiding me through the room with his hand resting protectively on my lower back, he stays next to me as I’m introduced to the chairman and her husband, before his hand returns to the base of my spine and he weaves a path for us through the crowd of glamorous guests to a spot by the window that looks out onto the lawn. Although I may not be a tennis aficionado, I’m still able to appreciate a few of the big sports stars in the room – Serena Williams is about a metre away from me, in conversation – but I’m soon distracted from my celebrity spotting by patrons of the club, keen to introduce themselves. Kieran’s fingers brush against mine as they eagerly ask him questions and, while offering them vague and tentative answers, I notice him continually glancing at me.

At first I think it’s because he’s worried about the fact that I’m out of my comfort zone and don’t know anyone, so I make a huge effort to be as warm and friendly as possible, launching into conversations with other guests nearby in the hope that he’s reassured – I don’t want him feeling like he has to babysit me all night. But I gradually get the feeling that he actually wants to stay close to me out of choice. He’s tense here and more reserved, and I realise that I have the rare privilege of seeing Kieran O’Sullivan at home, relaxed and at ease. Outside those walls, he gives the impression of the person he’s expected to be: moody and cold. But I know now he’s neither of those things, not really.

‘Ah, Kieran, there you are,’ Neil says, appearing next to us. He pats Kieran’s arm, looking relieved. ‘It’s good to see you.’ His eyes flicker to me and his jaw tenses. ‘Flora, nice to see you, too.’

‘Thank you for asking the chairman to let Kieran have a plus-one,’ I say gratefully.

‘Yes, well. I’m not sure Kieran gave me much of a choice,’ he mutters, before clearing his throat. ‘Anyway, lots of people I’d like you to chat with tonight, Kieran, so stay where you are and I’ll find you in a moment.’

‘Can’t wait,’ Kieran says under his breath, rolling his eyes once Neil has left.

‘What did he mean by that?’ I ask, watching him weave through the crowd, looking for someone specific. ‘That you didn’t give him much of a choice.’

‘I said if he couldn’t swing a plus-one for you tonight, then he shouldn’t expect me to show,’ he answers simply, taking a sip of his drink.

‘Kieran! I’m trying to get him to like me! You throwing around diva demands on my behalf won’t help matters.’

His lips twitch. ‘That’s the second time you’ve called me a diva, Flossie. I’m beginning to worry that the first time wasn’t a joke.’

‘Have you met you? You refuse to drink tap water.’

‘I don’t refuse. I just… prefer bottled.’

‘Classic diva excuse.’

He smiles to himself. ‘Anyway, Neil likes you. Who wouldn’t like you?’

‘Uh, you when we first met,’ I remind him haughtily.

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