About twenty minutes later we arrive at the entrance to an underground garage at a converted warehouse on St Katherine's Docks overlooking the Thames.  I realise it's only a short walk from where he took me for dinner that night.  As we stop in front of the door Jake presses a button on his dashboard to open the gate, and drives down into the garage where he parks smoothly into a space marked 10/1.  I feel nervous.  Or am I excited?  Both probably.  Unbuckling my seatbelt, I take a deep breath to steady the butterflies that have started fluttering.   I'm going to see where he lives.  This is a seminal moment surely.  This must mean that I'm safe hands.  Safe-ish hands anyway. 

Jake gets my case from the boot and walks around to meet me just as I'm closing the passenger door.  He slips his hand into mine and raises his eyebrows playfully, which makes me smile.   He pulls me with him toward the entrance to the stairwell and once through the door towards a set of lifts, letting go of the case and not my hand to press the button to call it.  As we wait he strokes his thumb softly over the skin of my hand and smiles at me.  It's a sweet relaxed smile but definitely has promise behind it.  I want to kiss him again.   I lean forward, closing the distance between our mouths, but just as I'm about to touch my lips to his the doorway to the garage bursts open making me jerk back.   Through it struts a tall tanned blonde girl dressed in a barely there skintight white vest top (hiding what has to be implants surely?) and tight white cropped trousers.  Her heels have to be at least 6 inches.   As she comes to stand next to us I get a waft of strong, thick perfume that mixed with the butterflies, makes my stomach turn.   She looks round at Jake and smiles brightly.

"Hey Jay, how are you?" She says, batting long overdone eyelashes at him. Jay?  She calls him Jay?  Oh I don't like that.  I really don't like that. 

"Yeah good Dawn.  You?" He flashes her a small tight smile and nods before dropping his eyes and pulling me closer to him. Now this I do like.  I like it more because Dawn doesn't seem to like it; she gives me a weird look like I just sprouted a second head.

"Great thanks, yeah." she says.  Her accent sounds Essex and her appearance seems to back this up.  When the lift springs open Jake stands back to let me in first before stepping in behind me.  Dawn gets in last and we travel up in silence until Dawn gets out at level 5 and glances back at Jake with a look so subtle that she may as well have given him a lap dance.   I look sideways to see his reaction, which appears to be one of mild awkwardness, and its all the confirmation I need.  He's slept with her.  It's the sort of intimate awkwardness that can only come from them having seen each other naked.  Which means I've just become a love-rival to a glamour model.  Well I never thought that would happen in my life.  Jake steps forward and presses 10 and the doors close.

"So I guess you never called," I say quietly. 

He looks round at me. "What do you mean?" his eyes are wary.

"Dawn," I incline my head.   "Afterwards.  You never called her did you?" I try and keep my voice calm and even and my eyes soft even though inside some sort of green-eyed monster wants to snarl and spit.   He thinks about it a moment, making me think he may deny it, but finally he just shakes his head.

"No.  I didn't." His tone is casual. "It was months ago. It only happened the once.  Never shit on your own doorstep," He mutters with a shake of his head.

"Well Miss Nuts Magazine there is clearly still into you," I smile. 

"Yeah, I know.." He nods, watching me intently.

I nod back before shifting a little on my feet.  "So... that's your usual type then?" I ask.  I have no idea why I just asked him that.  The question comes from nowhere of substance; it just pops into my head and then out of my mouth.  His eyes flash with something and then he moves quickly, pressing me against the side of the lift, pushing his body into mine.  His scent and heat washes over me. 

He lowers his lips almost to mine. "Baby, I've never had a type until you," He whispers, dropping his eyes to my mouth.  

I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out but then he's kissing me.  Deep and warm and slow is his mouth, the kind of kiss that's really just foreplay.   All of a sudden the metal lift feels very small and very warm and when the door opens on a ding he recovers quicker than I do and he has to pull me out behind him because I'm still dazed. 

He leads me down a long brick corridor that's carpeted in black, and has a floor to ceiling window at the far end through which I can see Tower Bridge.   We come to a stop at a shiny copper door with the number 10 / 1 etched into it and he unlocks it and leads me inside.   We enter into another brick hallway with dark hardwood flooring, leading off of which are another two of those gilded copper doors, one on either side. 

"Go through," He says gesturing for me to go ahead.  Behind me I hear him lock two locks on the front door as I walk ahead into the main part of the flat.  It's large and modern like something out of a stylish living magazine.  Open plan, the ceiling is lower at the entrance to the space and then it opens up into double height with a mezzanine level behind me.  A black wrought iron spiral staircase is visible just past the kitchen, to my right and goes upwards.  Straight ahead there are more floor to ceiling windows with an impressive view of the docks and bridge.  To my left the kitchen is all white lacquer and stainless steel, completely modern and utterly spotless.  On my other side is the living area; comfortable and stylish with a large dark brown leather corner sofa, huge flat screen TV on the exposed brick wall, below which sits a unit holding what I imagine is a games console and everything else required for a media center.  There's a low wooden coffee table on top of a soft looking white rug.  The dark red exposed brick of the main walls, and the warm mahogany wood floors give the apartment a cozy feel despite being large and sparsely furnished.   In the far corner I see an acoustic guitar and amplifier, and almost a full wall of white shelves holding what must be hundreds of CD"s and vinyl records.  So he plays guitar and he really likes music then.  I never knew that, and he never told me.

I turn back to him, "You play guitar?"

He frowns and shakes his head. "No," I look at him confused, and then gesture towards the beautiful wooden instrument by the window.  "I wish I could.  I'm teaching myself. I'm a terrible teacher," his voice is playful but there's regret there. I nod but I'm not sure whether to believe him.  He's probably just being humble again.  

I turn back around and look at where the staircase goes and can only assume it's to his bedroom. A shiver runs through me at the thought of Jakes bed.  What he might do to me in it, and what I want him to do to me in it.  

This place must be worth a fortune.  A duplex in central London does not come cheap meaning the London club scene clearly pays.  When I turn around to look at him he's leaning against the wall by the kitchen watching me. He has a strange, almost distant look on his face.

"I'm impressed," I smile.  "You have a really beautiful place."

"Yeah well, it never normally looks this good." He states, his eyes hungry.  

I flush and shake my head, but find it impossible not to smile back.  He stands up off the wall and walks towards me, stepping into my body space and wrapping his arms round my waist.  He pulls me into to him and kisses me slowly, dipping his tongue gently into my mouth.  As I moan, I bring my arms up and loop them behind his neck, stroking the back of his short, cropped hair as his mouth moves over mine.  God, will I ever tire of kissing him?  Not likely.

"I'm glad you're here," He says separating our mouths and licking his lips.

"I'm glad too,"  He smiles deeply and kisses the tip of my nose. "Thanks for inviting me." I add.

"Mmm you're welcome," he presses his mouth to mine again.  "So, want the tour?" he asks.   When I nod he moves around behind me pulling my back tightly against him, his hands wrapped around my body and his head resting on my shoulder. It reminds me of our position yesterday afternoon when he was naked in my bedroom. He turns me on the spot. "Kitchen, Living room, that first door on the left is my junk room - baby please don't go in there, it's honestly not worth it.  You'd run a mile - and the door on the right is the main bathroom."

"Your junk room?  So you don't have a red room of pain here?" I smile.

"A red room of pain?" 

I shake my head.  "Oh nevermind... It's just a thing... from a book..." I mutter.  I'm embarrassed now.  Jake does not need to know about my Fifty Shades of Grey Fantasy.  Not yet anyway.

"Sounds violent.  Should I read this book?" he presses his lips against my neck.

"It's not violent exactly.  But um... I'm not sure it would be your thing.  Go on, give me the rest of the tour." I try to change the subject but an image of Jake topless wearing only ripped jeans as I'm tied to my four-poster bed wanders into my mind.  Oh god...

He pulls his head up and leads me towards the spiral staircase, nudging me up in front of him so that I feel his eyes on my body as I climb the curved iron stairs.  When I get up there I almost gasp.   The floor to double height ceiling windows mean that he has an unobstructed view of the London skyline from his bed, what a view it would give him at night if it looked this good during the day.  I can't wait to see it later.   Because the bedroom sits directly above the kitchen it gives a view down to the living room from where we're standing.  Along one wall is a row of mirrored and walnut wardrobes, with a matching walnut tallboy against the wall.  The bedroom is carped with in a thick grey carpet and done in muted white and grey.   The bed sits in the middle of the room; a large low dark wood affair covered with light grey bedding.   Jake's bed.   Where he sleeps. 

I can't believe how immaculate it all is; so neat and tidy.  For a moment I wonder if maybe he's brought me to a show home, but since the room completely smells of him - that dark, spicy, clean scent of his that has such a debilitating effect on me - I know it's his room and his home.  He's just a neat and tidy man I suppose.  I'm not sure it's what I was expecting which means he's surprised me again.

"Bedroom," He whispers into my ear.

"Are you going to tell me this is where the magic happens?"   

As I utter the words it makes me wonder how many women he's brought up here.  It must be a fair number.  He's a man with a bachelor pad most guys can only dream about.  A lot of women have probably been here. Dawn from the lift has probably been here.  I feel edgy and nauseous again.   It's that "one of many" fear that creeps into the back of my brain sometimes when I'm with him, when I stop to think about how he's not my type and how he could hurt me.  It's utterly unhealthy and I know that.

"Hmmm. Well I could tell you that," he says, pressing his mouth to my neck.  He slides his hands up and over my shoulders to slip my jacket off, slowly running his hands over my arms as he does.  He drapes it over the bed and turns me around to face him. "Or I could show you.." He kisses the side of my neck again, biting softly making goose pimples break out across my skin.  I close my eyes on a soft moan.  "I fucking love how your skin smells," he whispers. 

He loves the way I smell? His smell drives me absolutely bat shit crazy.  Of course I cant tell him this, so I say nothing and instead drop my head to the side, enjoying the feel of his hot wet tongue and lips roaming over my neck and collarbone.  

I move my hands around and inside the back of his jeans grabbing at the hard muscles of his bum.  At my touch he groans louder and then his hand is at the zip on the back of my dress and he's pulling it down. "Alex I need to fuck you now," he says. 

The words light a fire inside me.  Yes, I need him to do that now too.  My hand goes to the front of his jeans and I feel immediately how hard he is.  I doubt there will ever be a time when I don't get thrill knowing that he wants me and that I make him hard.  That I can do that do a man like him.  It's an odd but heady kind of power.

Turning around I move to unbutton and unzip his jeans, while he grabs his t-shirt and pulls it up over his head, tossing it behind him.  His hands come up to my dress and he slides it off my shoulders so that it falls down and off my body.  As soon as I step out of it our mouths meet in a rush, and I pull down his jeans before he kicks them off and I push him toward the bed.  He sits down first, pulling me onto his lap to straddle him as he leans up to kiss me, his hands roaming over greedily over my body and round to my back where he unclasps my bra.  As he pulls it off my body his eyes drop to my breasts, which he stares longingly at.

"I fucking love these you know..." He whispers as he lowers his mouth.  He takes one hard nipple in his mouth and sucks hard, almost painfully, but not quite.  He moans a raw male sound as he suckles it and flicks it with his tongue, his long stubble tickling the sensitive skin around it.  I hold his head and run my fingers through his soft hair, pulling hard on it.  He moves suddenly, flipping me over onto my back and brings his hand to the waistband of my pants and I arch up off the bed to aid him pull them off.   After he tosses them to the side he runs his hand up the inside of my thigh and cups me possessively between my legs.  He groans loudly as his hand makes contact.

"Fuck you're so wet... so wet for me baby," He moans, bending to kiss me again.  I honestly don't get why he sounds surprised, I'm pretty sure 'wet for him' is the new constant in my life.  He slides a finger inside me and I gasp digging my fingers into his bare shoulders.

"God Jake..." I arch under him as I clench around him.  He kisses me deeper, licking at the inside of my mouth before pulling back to look at my face as he inserts another finger.  Slowly he teases me, withdrawing from my body to rub around the outside and against the spot that is tender and desperate.  As he slides his finger back inside I feel the blood rush to my cheeks and I gasp, pulling him back down to kiss me.   He pecks me lightly on the lips before pulling back to watch my face again. Resigned, I drop my hands by my sides and close my eyes and move against his fingers.

"I fantasised about this," I hear him say very quietly.  

I open my eyes to look at him. "About what?" My breaths are shallow as his fingers slow inside me.

"The first time I saw you, I fantasised about this. About you lying here on my bed, naked."  His tone is soft.   "I imagined fucking you here on my bed.  I wanted you in my bed." 

I feel a deep clenching in my belly in response.   So he imagined all of this while I was stitching together a potentially life threatening knife wound.  How...kinky.

"Mmm I bet you say that to all the girls," I smile.  I see a flicker of something cold flash across his eyes and he removes his fingers from me, leaving me aching and drifting.  I've said the wrong thing.  Stupid, stupid me.  He sits back on his thighs and stares down at me.

"Why do you always think I'm giving you a line Alex?" he sounds serious, a little angry even.  Not quite as angry as when I stood him up, but somewhere in-between.

"I was joking, I'm sorry.  It wasn't funny,"  

"You weren't though were you?  You always say shit like that whenever I tell you how I feel.  You always think I'm bullshitting you, why is that?" he says. 

Do I do that?  I guess I have done it.  Not always but I have.  I have thought that about him.  Why is it? I try and think.  But all I can think of is that I'm naked and splayed out before him and suddenly I feel very exposed and vulnerable.   I shuffle up the bed and lean back on the headboard pulling a pillow over myself; not the most modest of outfits but it'll do.  I stare at him. He's waiting for an answer.  Why do I always say things like that?

"I don't. I guess I just...." God how do I say this, without offending him. "I just think that you have a way with words, I've said it before.  It's not a big deal," I try shrugging because I think that might make it seem less like a big deal.  He narrows his eyes.  It clearly doesn't.

"A way with words?" he repeats quietly. 

"Yes, you know.  You're good at saying things girls want to hear.  It's not an insult Jake.  It's a compliment." I'm trying flattery now.  It's desperate.  I can see the cogs ticking over in his mind and then he shakes his head and a small laugh escapes his mouth.  I say laugh but its not really.  It sounds hollow and he sounds annoyed.  He looks at me again, glares rather.

"Listen to me Alex," his voice low and serious and it gets my undivided attention. "I don't say shit like this - to anyone.  I've never thought this shit - about anyone.  I don't fantasise about bringing women back here and I don't bring women back here. Ever." He states firmly.

A small laugh breaks out of my throat. "Oh really?  You've never brought a woman back here?"  If he thinks I'm going to believe that then he must think I'm an idiot.

"No, never," He confirms.

"Oh really?  Not even Dawn from the lift?"  I raise an eyebrow at him. 

He stares at me for a moment longer and then sits up and steps off the bed and walks over to the glass barrier at the edge of the bedroom.  He leans over it, looking out at the view; his shoulders hunched as he runs his hand over his face.   As I watch his strong muscled tattooed back, a virtual barrier between his emotions and me, I wonder why on earth he's so annoyed about my comment.   He's hardly a bloody priest.  

Why does he care enough to lie about it?  I suppose part of me is still worried that this is all a play for him, and since I cant tell if he's playing me or not, that's why I say the things I do, so I at least appear like I know he is even if he's not.  Does that even make sense in my own head?  I'm not sure it does.  It scares me and worries me though that I'm just a notch to him.  Still, I probably shouldn't have said it, here, now.  It's something a weak insecure person says, not to mention a mood killer. 

"Jake I-" I start but he whips round and stares at me. 

"You want to know how many women I've been with Alex. Is that it?" His voice is angry but he's not shouting.   "Would that help?  If you knew how many women I'd fucked but never called?"

I don't even know how to respond.  No I don't want to know that.  I don't ever want to know how many women he's been with.  What number I am to him.  It would only make me feel cheap and inconsequential - two things I've never felt before in my life.  

"No," I shake my head.  I don't want to know how many women you've been with." He looks away from me and stares at a point in the floor clenching and releasing his jaw whilst he works at the inside of his lip with his teeth.

"I guess it doesn't really matter anyway.  Since you've already made your mind up that I've stuck my cock in everything that moves," he bites.

"I never said that Jake." 

He looks up at me and takes a deep breath. "No but you implied it. You do it all the time Alex.  Which means it's how you see me," He sounds sad, regretful. He's right though. I do think that.   I look down.  From day one I had assumed him to be a player; a man who fucks women, doesn't do relationships and who'll break my heart when he moves briskly on to the next one.

"Don't you think this is funny?" he says after a long moment.

"What?" I'm confused. I'm pretty sure nothing about this is funny.

"Just that I'm the one on trial here for my sexual history but on three times since I met you I stood watching you in the arms of other men," His voice is measured and controlled but the truth in what he just said stings me. 

Oh god that's unfair.

Its unfair that he's right. Again.  I have.  Sam, Matt, and today.   The realization is blinding, and the fact that I'm sitting on Jake's bed naked doesn't make me feel any less cheap.  It makes me feel even more like a slut.  Well this evening certainly isn't turning out how I wanted it to.  I want to go home. I feel cheap and sad and I want to go home right now. 

Slowly I slide across the bed and get up, bending down as gracefully as possible to retrieve my underwear from the floor.  I slip into my pants, deciding to forgo my bra because really, who can do that gracefully, as Jake watches me in complete silence.  I can feel the weight of his eyes on me but only when I step into my dress does he move forward, putting his hands on my arms from behind before turning me around to face him.  He doesn't look angry anymore he looks guilty.

"Please don't.  Fuck I shouldn't have said that," he looks down and shakes his head. "It was petty. I'm sorry," He says sincerely, shaking his head. "I don't want you to leave baby," His eyes are soft and pleading.  I don't want to leave either.  I want to take back all the stupid jabbing comments about him being the biggest man-whore in London and go back to the way he looked at me when I first walked into his apartment.  He can't be the biggest man whore in London anyway because I'm pretty sure my brother is.

"I'm sorry too.  For the comments, for how I feel sometimes, that's my problem not yours," I stare up at him.  His hand comes up to cup my face and he begins to stroke my cheek softly as he nibbles on the inside of his bottom lip. 

"No.  Not all yours," he says letting out a breath.   "Okay look, my past history with women isn't something I'm proud of Alex.  I haven't been a nice guy.  With women.  I've been a cunt to a lot of women.  But it is history; I can't do anything about it.  But it has nothing to do with us, or you," His voice is soft and sincere and it didn't escape my attention that he just called us an 'us' again.   "We all have bad shit we'd rather not think about or talk about or share with someone we're trying so fucking hard to impress," His thumb grazes my lip and his eyes dip to my mouth before coming back to my eyes. 

I smile. "You're trying to impress me?"

He quirks his eyebrow as if I just said something ridiculous.  "I'm always trying to impress you Alex, and always failing miserably by the looks of it." He says.

I shake my head. "You haven't failed at anything Jake," I lean up on my tiptoes to kiss him and he opens his mouth, so I can stroke and suck at his tongue with my own.  With an arm around my waist he pulls me tighter into him and I hear him moan through his nose.  God I love when he makes that sound.   When I pull back from him and look into his eyes they're a little heavy lidded.  "Actually that's not technically true.  You've failed at feeding me.  I am totally starving," I frown dramatically.

He smiles adorably and leans forward, touching his forehead to mine and stroking his nose against mine like he did in the restaurant that night.  I still love the gesture, it's so intimate and cute that it makes me want to bite him somewhere.   His eyes close over and he kisses me on the mouth and then the cheek before finally pressing his lips to that tender spot under my ear and inhaling deeply.  I inhale him too, my nose close to his hair. Warm, male, cleanliness is what floods up my nose and into my brain. 

"Well there is something I can do about that," He says as he pulls back.  He looks excited. "Prepare to be impressed." he reaches down to get his jeans, stepping into them and buttoning them quickly before lifting his t-shirt.  I watch his hard muscled tattooed body flex with the movement.  Jesus he is maleness personified. 

"Will you tell me about your tattoos one day?"   I ask as I slide my dress up my shoulders.

He stands, turns and unfolds his T-shirt out the right way as he looks at me.  "What do you want to know?" his expression is unreadable. 

I shrug, casting my eyes down over his remarkable collection.  "I don't know.  What they mean, which one came first, if you're getting more," 

He waits until my eyes meet his before slowly pulling the T-shirt over his upper body, shrouding his markings.  "They remind me of where I've been, what I've done, where I'm going.  The boxing dwarf on my right bicep was first, and yes," he steps forward into my body again, pressing himself against me. "I absolutely will be getting more." he states.    I have nothing.  I wasn't expecting a detailed explanation if I'm honest and so I don't have anything else planned as a follow up question.  So now I ask questions and he answers them.  Well this was definitely progress.  As he kisses the top of my head I smile. 

"Would you cook for me naked if I asked you to?" The question comes from nowhere.  Well technically not from nowhere, from the fact that he has the most amazing body I've ever seen and I always want to look at it naked.  He pulls back from me and fixes me with one of those hard sexy stares.

"Only if you were naked too.  Don't want you having me at a disadvantage,"

I try and hide a smile. "I really don't see how you being naked is disadvantageous for anyone," I tilt my head giving him a look I hope is seductive. 

He smirks.  "Ok maybe not for you, but it might be for the guy handling hot food," He points at himself.  "but you naked," his eyes look over me, heating me, tightening me.  "Nah actually, far too distracting, which could also be dangerous for me. How about we both keep our clothes on for this yeah?"

I make a small disappointed noise and he smiles and runs a hand through his perfectly rumpled hair.  He looks utterly edible. God I really need to eat something before I devour him whole. 

He comes round behind me and zips up the rest of my dress and then turns me back to face him.  He brings his hand up and runs it down the side of my face until he gets to my chin, which he pinches gently between his thumb and his forefinger.  It's another cute gesture and it pulls him into my heart a little further.  He leans down and pecks me on the lips, then takes my hand and leads me downstairs.

"Come on Doctor, time to be impressed,"