Page 45 of A Night with Damien Spur

He didn’t even look at her. He drummed his fingers on the table and stared at her glass.

‘Aren’t you going to finish your champagne?’ he asked.

‘Why?’ she replied. ‘There’s plenty of time. I thought you said you booked the table for nine? It’s only seven thirty.’

Sophie knew what was going on. Nicholas was stewing about being caught in thiscompromising position. She watched him look askance at the good-looking man, who was far more relaxed than he was.

What’s your problem, Nicholas Morley? Why would a sophisticated player like Charles Lane be the least bit interested in the love life of a small-time antiques dealer from Bournemouth whose big night before he met Sophie was playing poker with the boys?

Sophie could see him thinking that even though he and Lane were in the same boat, someone else he knew could turn up.

He sneakily edged his chair away from Sophie.

She looked at Nicholas and felt sorry for him.

He wasn’t the sort of guy who took an affair in his stride.

Go easy on him, Sophie. You knew the score when you seduced him. A married man would never be an easy catch.

‘No need to pretend, Nicholas. I get you,’ she said. ‘Spotted with the mistress; how unfortunate. Well then, let’s put you out of your misery, Mr Morley. I’m going to the loo while you pay the bill, and off we go.’

As Sophie passed the art dealer, she winked at him. He winked back.

After that evening, they didn’t see him again, but it was fair warning. For the rest of their stay, Nicholas made sure that he didn’t hold Sophie’s hand in public. Any lovers’ gestures remained strictly under cover.

And so it continued back in England – grabbing days and nights here and there, midweek visits and the occasional weekend together when he went to an art fair in the country.

Nicholas and she had been going strong for six months, but when it came to the crunch, he didn’t want to leave his wife.

Sophie was becoming increasingly impatient. The more she saw him, the lonelier she became when he left.

A mistress’s life just didn’t satisfy her. She yearned for domestic bliss.

It was on Valentine’s Day that things finally came to a head. Nicholas had managed to slip away from Kate to spend the night with Sophie. He bought her red roses and a pretty diamond necklace, and she made him his favourite: lobster zucchini noodles.

She loved watching him eat. The way he sighed when he forked the juicy lobster meat and slipped it in his mouth.

‘Oh, Sophie. This is sublime.’

‘More wine?’ she said.

‘Yes, please,’ he said.

She brushed his shoulder with her breast as she poured him another glass.

He slipped his hand under the straps of her red silk dress.

‘Not now.’ She gently moved his hand away. ‘I want you to wait.’

That’s it! Make him so hot that he forgets he has a wife. Get him to the point where he can’t live without you. Give him the time of his life and then withdraw.

‘How do you want me?’ she asked, teasing his mouth open with a strawberry dipped in Chantilly cream. ‘In bed or on the sofa?’

She undid his shirt and rubbed her palm against his nipple.

‘Oh my Lord, here we go again.’ Nicholas could hardy speak. ‘Bed’s good, but I’m bursting for a piddle.’

Damn him. Why was she besotted with this man-boy? What did he want from her? He didn’t even care if they had sex. And yet he was such a wonderful lover. He was so controlled. Heated her up to boiling point and then cooled her down. Watched her as he got her all steamed up again and just as she was ready to blow a fuse he melted her.

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