Friday at work is too long and around one pm I start to wish I had called in sick as had been my first thought when I'd peeled my eyes open this morning in the stuffy brown light of my bedroom. I'd had an oddly deep sleep but with disturbing vivid nightmares that lingered long after I'd gotten out of bed.

Jake and I were in France, at the farmhouse. It was a hot night because the sweat clung to my body in sheets and felt thick in the air. I was lying on top of the large dining table which looks out onto the pool, the patio doors wide open allowing the soft night breeze to float through.

My dress was pulled up to my waist and my legs were spread wide apart as Jake sucked and bit and devoured me with his mouth. His hands gripped my thighs tight as he brought me to the very brink of orgasm with whispered words of desire and the familiarly delicious placement of his tongue. But as I thrashed on top of the table I turned my head towards the patio and saw him standing there. Jake. His face was a mask of murder and fury and when I looked down I found not Jake but Laurent smiling up at me, his mouth wet and his eyes glittering with unbridled lust.

Then I remember crying, sobbing hard as I tried to explain to him that it was a mistake; it had been Jake there, just a moment before, it was him, I thought it was him. Of course, he didn't listen; he had raged and shouted and called me names that I never imagined I would ever hear from his mouth directed at me. I spent hours, days maybe, crying at his feet and begging him to let me to touch him before everything faded to black.

So vivid was it that when I woke I felt pure relief that it had been just a nightmare. Though, maybe I shouldn't feel too relieved since it's likely that's what he imagined happened anyway.

In any case, my body felt heavy and sluggish as I dragged it into the car and then into the surgery, everything feeling and working slower than normal. My brain spent the day overloaded and clunky and seemingly ambivalent to the litre of coffee I had gone on to consume.

In the end, I take two ibuprofen and push the 'fight with my boyfriend' to the back of my head to be dealt with when I eventually get out of work. A fight with my boyfriend was what I'd heard Janice call it to Emma, Sam's replacement, after I'd left the kitchen earlier. Not that I'd told Janice anything, she just had a weird sort of knack for knowing these things. I'd just given her a weird sort of shrug thing earlier which she'd taken as an affirmative. I'd been in loading up my mug when Emma had politely asked if I was okay.

She had been trying to befriend me since she arrived a few months back, which I suppose made sense since we were the closest in age, and since Sam had called me 'his saviour' when he introduced us.  Except unfortunately for Emma she had arrived during the most insular period of my life. Making new friends wasn't really something you did after just having your heart forcibly ripped from your body. What you did was work, cry and sleep - interspersed with enough calories to keep your body functioning. Perceptive as she was, she had obviously noticed a change in me this week because had attempted to try again to make some sort of connection with me.

I doubt she'd give it a third shot after the brusque "Nothing I really want to talk about thanks," I'd given her before brushing past her back to the relative isolation of my office.

Maybe I'd invite her out for lunch when things were sorted with Jake and me.

By 6pm he still hasn't gotten in touch, and the worry and stress begin to twist and transform into something else. Something which throughout the day had been small and fairly benign, but had grown a little more each time I'd opened my desk drawer and lit up my phone screen to see nothing but a clock and the screensaver of Tash and Nick grinning back at me from France.

The small benign nodule was beginning to develop into anger. So he just isn't going to contact me until he decides we've had enough space? Do I get no say in this? How is that fair? Especially since he didn't even stay around long enough to talk about it properly before storming off. Last night I felt his pain. He made sure I bloody felt it. Now he's making me feel angry.

Taking my phone out of the drawer for the hundredth time, I finally cave and type out a text. Since I don't want him to know I'm angry, I keep any trace of irritation out of my words. Beneath the growing anger, I'm still sorry anyway and I need him to know that.

//Jake can you please call me? We need to talk properly. I love you, Axx//

Around 7pm, I'm still trying to catch up on what my sluggishness had caused to slip during the day when I pull open the drawer to check if he's responded. My heart lifts a little then falls again as I let out a sigh I've probably been holding in all day.  Pressing my fingers hard to my temples as I close my eyes, I chew my nails for a moment as I try and decide what to do now.

Well, at least he responded.

Christ, I need to get out of here. I'm not even concentrating anymore anyway; Jake is apparently the only thing I can't organise into a pile and come back to later. Decided, I stand up from my desk and slip my phone into my bag.

He will damn well talk to me, and we will damn well sort this.

***

Miraculously, I manage to find a parking space on the street behind the club. I'd never get parked anywhere near central London on a normal day, but it looks as though not many people bring their cars to Brick Lane on a Friday night. After double-checking I'm not on faded double yellows or a disabled box, I start toward the club.

I definitely feel less helpless having made the decision to come to him. The anger is still there but it's simmering gently on the back ring and I feel less controlled by it and less smothered.

His curt, 'I'm busy. Working. Call you later Jx' was what had brought me here. In fact, it had probably had the reverse effect to the one he was hoping for when he sent it. Softer, kinder words would have been easier to swallow- and would have kept me away most likely. But if almost 24 hours wasn't enough time and space for him to calm down then I had to intervene. We needed to talk about this - we were in a relationship and our lives were forever entwined now, and well, I'm carrying his child. 

Of course, this last fact isn't something he is aware of yet, but surely the first two are more than enough on their own? He can't just sulk and ignore me.

If I was expecting to turn up to an empty club, getting ready for the night's entertainment, I was wrong. There's a massive queue of about a hundred people long on one side of the door, and a shorter, decidedly more contained queue on the other, by a small will call window cut into the wall.

Doormen dressed all in black stand at the head of each of queue, and they both eye me suspiciously, casting glances at each other in confusion as I approach. As I stop in front of them I smile and the one on the right raises his eyebrows at the other before they both look back at me.

"Can we help you sweet'art? You on the list?" the eyebrow raiser asks in a strong cockney tone. He's a massive man with a scar down his left temple and cheek, but apart from that has a pair of friendly eyes.

"What? Oh, no, no I'm not. But I'm sure you can help," I smile politely. "I actually need to speak with the owner please."

He frowns then, looking me over from head to toe. I know what he's thinking - my black C&K dress and matching blazer isn't the style of this particular Surgery. To him I probably look like an environmental health inspector here to check the beer taps.

"Owner or Manager?" the other one asks, head cocked to the side.

"I thought I was quite clear? The owner." I'm sure not many people turn up here asking to speak to Jake by name, or if they do they don't look like me. I'm also aware that Jake now has a manager running the day to day activities of his club, meaning he didn't need to be here at all really and certainly not two nights in a row. Meaning he's almost certainly using the term 'busy, working' as code for avoiding me.

"He expecting you?" he frowns, large bushy eyebrows meeting in the middle.

"Oh, I very much doubt it," I step forward, still smiling, "still, if you could let him know that Alex is here that would be great, thanks." My tone is professional and polite. These two don't intimidate me, as much as they're trying to.

"You got a second name... Alex?" the first one asks.

"Oh, he'll know which Alex you mean, trust me," I say. I contemplate saying Alex 'who's-mouth-he-came-in-last-night-before-walking-out-on-her' but I decide against it for obvious reasons.

He narrows his eyes, curious now more than anything, but after a long pause seems to decide to trust me.

"Wait here," He says and disappears into the club. The other doorman gives me a long curious stare of his own before turning to let a few more people in, who also eye me with curiosity.

I hover uncomfortably for a few minutes before my friend returns looking pleased with himself. As I cast my eye over his shoulder I see not Jake, but Kevin, or as I call him in my head - violent creep. He looks alive and well considering the disappearing act and death of his father.

His mouth is turned up into a smirk at me and as he comes closer he pats the doorman on the back in a kind of condescending way and tells him he'll take it from here.

"Doctor... good to see you again, been a while." He smiles. It's a leering malignant smile that sets my teeth on edge. Not long enough is what I want to say.

"Hello Kevin," I say instead, suddenly very aware of the stares of the doormen, clubbers and Kevin alike. "Is Jake here? I really need to speak with him."

He smiles deeper. "He's here." He nods, beckoning me with a flick of his head back inside the club. As I follow him past the security I feel them regard me now with a sort of deference, which I don't like because I feel like somehow Kevin did that.

I follow him into the foyer of the club, which looks decidedly different from how I remember it being, it feels much bigger and louder and altogether more intimidating. It feels like years since I was here with Rob and Leigh, and it feels odd somehow knowing that it belongs to solely to Jake. That he no doubt put blood, sweat and tears into making it happen.

I look above me to the high arched ceiling trimmed with chrome and black and around me at the velvet walls the colour of charcoal and feel suddenly out of my depth. It feels like the thick opaque walls may be trying to smother me. I feel small and weak again.

Walking behind Kevin to the left of the main entrance, which is busy with people checking in coats and shouting loud over the music, I watch as he uses a shiny black keycard to unlock a sturdy looking metal door, which he holds open for me to follow him through.

"So that you an my boy all loved up again then?" He says as the door slams closed behind me. I jump at the noise before turning to give him a confused look. What the hell is that? His boy? Honestly, I hate that he knows anything about us at all, but at the same time, I like that he doesn't seem to know we are smack bang in the middle of a fight. Or maybe he does, how on earth would I know what's behind that leering face?

"Um, yes," I reply. "I missed him," I add for no reason at all.  He nods, smirking again before his wide mouth turns down at the sides.

"So even the smart ones love fucking bastards then?" He chuckles to himself more than me. Oddly, it doesn't sound like he's insulting Jake in the slightest - it sounds more like he's in awe of him.

Frowning, I shake my head to indicate that I don't understand what he's talking about but he just laughs a little louder before motioning me down the stark white corridor which is flooded with bright overhead lighting. The walls are concrete blocks, the kind you see in sports halls or gymnasiums, and the floor is a hard grey stone which my heels click almost ominously off of.

"Wanna take the lift?' he asks with almost childlike enthusiasm. I shrug my indifference which he takes as an affirmative and reaches out to press the call button. I breathe a little breath of relief when it pings open immediately because honestly, I'd rather not spend any more time in Kevin's company than is particularly necessary.

Once inside the enclosed space, he presses '3' and the lift jerks upward making me stagger a slightly. As I steady myself against the cold metal wall, I look over at Kevin, who's still smiling at me like he's party to some private joke he's dying to tell me.

God, I really dislike this man. Some part of me, a quiet disturbing part, hopes that when Jake finally 'does what he has to do' Kevin will be affected in a way that will wipe that smirk off his face permanently.

He has an exceptionally mean face. The potential for immeasurable violence is in that face. Dark navy eyes sink deep into his square-jawed head, eyes which are almost too large and too wide for the other features next to them. He looks dangerous, a fact which he seems to be well aware of, but dangerous in a completely different way from how Jake often looks. How odd, I didn't realise there were varieties of dangerous.

To distract me from the fact that I'm in an enclosed space with him, I look at my shoes, my nails, and finally at the specks of silver on the floor of the lift. Still, though, I feel him watching me hard and he begins to say something, but the lift jerks to a stop and the doors spring open cutting him off.

I step out first, happy to be further away from his dominating, threatening form, into another stark white corridor with lots of black metal doors leading off. This time though all of them, with the exception of the one labelled 'Fire exit', have those little keypad locks about shoulder height. No Keycard is getting anyone through these ones.

"This is the shortcut by the way." He informs me as he walks towards the door closest to us and punches in a code, which his massive hand obscures. So Kevin is trusted with meeting visitors, keycards and codes at Jakes club? Why does that worry me?

He pushes open the door, holding it open again for me to step through. This time, he doesn't leave enough space and I have to graze against him in order to pass into what is a small compact kitchen.

Closing the door very gently behind him, Kevin then moves toward the door to the left of the small space and pushes it open, this one isn't locked. I can hear the sound of the music from the club as we move through a dark corridor, voices too - I know where I am then: Jakes office. We round a slight corner and I see him.

He's not alone.

A slender woman with long legs and long blonde hair dressed in a red dress which shows off an ample cleavage is sitting on the sofa close to him. Very close to him. Their body language makes me uncomfortable. She has her legs crossed at the knee causing her too short dress to ride up her strong looking thighs.

She's leaning into him with her head thrown back as she laughs at something he just said. Her hand is also resting far too high up on his thigh for my liking – in fact, I don't like a single thing about the scene in front of me.  I'm certain I feel my fingernails sharpen into claws.

Jake looks relaxed too, chuckling quietly, clearly amused. And whilst he isn't touching her, he isn't exactly throwing her off either. There's a glass of brown liquid resting on his vacant thigh and as I look down I see a bottle of Jack Daniels on the low table in front of them. She's drinking champagne by the looks of the half empty glass and ice bucket in front of her.

The rage practically sears through my body, lighting up ever nerve ending.

So I'm given the silent treatment while he sits here entertaining some overdone trollop.

How fucking dare he??

Beside me, Kevin makes a sort of low whistling noise, like wind escaping from a small space. It's enough to get Jakes attention however and he turns his head, eyes widening the instant he spots me across the low lit room.  Though his mouth sort of falls open, he doesn't move away from her, not a bloody inch.

Neither does she move away from him. Nope. Her hand stays firmly planted on his thigh.

Doesn't she have any shame? Doesn't he?

My teeth clench together hard as the image forms; her on her back with those thighs wrapped around him while he fucks her. It takes all of my strength not to fly across the room like a woman possessed.

"Shit mate totally forgot you already had company," Kevin says unapologetically.

He forgot no such thing. He wanted me to see this, of that I'm certain. Though for what reason, I have literally neither the will nor desire to contemplate right now. Jake says nothing; he just stares at me, his eyes burning with something. Guilt hopefully. Oh, it had better be guilt.

I narrow my eyes on him and slowly shake my head. "Yes. Apologies for intruding, I had no idea you were this kind of busy." I simmer before turning on my heel and going back the way I came.

My rage propels me out into the corridor and along towards the fire exit and then I feel a hand on my arm pulling me back.  I'm spun around to face Jake. He doesn't look panicked or guilty, he looks mildly exasperated, annoyed even.

"Where are you going?" he asks with a tired sigh.

I try yanking my arm from his grip but it doesn't give as he tightens his hold.

"Where the hell do you think I'm going, Jake??" I snap. "Home. I'm going home. You can go back to your company now." I turn my body away from him again but I don't get far.

"Alex, wait, stop." He says, pulling me back and pressing me into the wall, crowding me with his body.  It gives me little choice but to face him directly. Christ the fury inside me is thunderous, a crackling electricity flowing through my veins. It feels flammable.

"What are you doing here?" he asks me.

I narrow my eyes. "What am I doing here? Umm... let me think. Oh I know, I'm here because you've basically ignored me for the last twenty-four hours and we need to talk. Or maybe I'm here because the last time I saw you was after you came in my mouth and walked out on me and so I don't know, maybe I missed feeling humiliated and thought I'd come back for more??"

A flicker of something moves across his eyes before he drops his head back and looks up at the ceiling, running a hand over his mouth and beard. "I said I'd call you later." he sighs again. "Why can't you ever just do as you're told..." He mutters quietly.

"Do as I'm told???" my voice burns with incredulity.

He turns to face me again.  "I told you I'd call you later Alex." he repeats, calmly.

"Yes Jake, you did. You said something similar last night too. You didn't call."

Another sigh. "Yeah well, you shouldn't have come here." He sounds so tired. It makes me feel even more like a misbehaving child.

"Yes, I'm inclined to agree!" I snap again, my eyes going to the door of his office.

"It's business Alex. She's business. I'm try-." He stops talking when the door to his office opens suddenly and the blonde sashays through it, flanked by Kevin. She stops and looks between Jake and me.

"Aaah, prichina." she smiles at me. She's Russian? The reason? I'm the reason? What the hell does that mean?

I narrow my eyes at her. "Izvinite?" I ask her in my best Russian. Her eyes widen in surprise and Jake's head whips round to me.

"Ne volnuytes' dorogoy. On ves' tvoy," she beams a fake smile at me. "Nesmotrya na vse moi usiliya..." I don't quite catch it entirely, which was maybe her intent - it was spoken very fast and with a heavy dialect - and my Russian is barely there and very rusty - but I hear; don't worry with some condescending term of endearment, and he's yours in there somewhere. A fact that she seems to be mildly annoyed about, which makes me smile.

"Yes, he is," I say, in English.

She smiles again, falsely again, showing me the perfect set of white teeth behind her bright red lips before turning back to Jake. "I like her Jake, feisty."  She breathes. "Keveen can look after me now. But I'll be in touch..." She says, touching her hand to his bicep.

Oh, I don't like that she thinks she can touch him. I also don't like the way she says his name in that sexy Russian accent of hers. Or that she'll be in touch. In touch with what? His thigh? Who the hell is this woman? Jake nods politely and gives Kevin a long look before the lift springs open and they both get in.

When Jake and I are alone again I turn back to find him staring at me, his eyes softer.

"Any languages you don't speak?" He says, a small smile playing across his mouth.

"She'll be in touch? What the hell does that mean? You were that good I take it?" I fold my arms.

He frowns, looking perplexed. "What? Fuck sake Alex give me a break yeah? It was nothing like that... fucking hell you think I'd d-."

"It looked exactly like that from where I was standing Jake," I cut in. "You know, if this is some sort of revenge for Laurent, it's petty and pathetic."

The light disappears from his eyes immediately, and his mouth hardens into an almost snarl. "Pathetic? Alex if you honestly think me being pissed off at the thought of you with another guy is pathetic then you clearly don't know me very fucking well.." His voice is dark like his eyes and I swallow, feeling scolded and stupid. Wrong word choice Alex.

"You're allowed to be angry Jake. What you're not allowed to do is seduce bloody bond girls in your office as some sort of payback."

His mouth twitches with the hint of a smile. "She's not a bond girl."

"Bond villain then."

He smiles a little deeper. "Jealous baby?"

I give him a look of warning and he lets out a soft breath, his eyes dropping to my mouth. "Have I ever told you how fucking gorgeous you are when you're angry?" He says as I feel him stroke at my arm softly through my jacket.

"Yes, you have. Stop changing the subject. Who was she?" Okay, I'm certain he wasn't sleeping with her but until I get a decent answer I'm not simply going to melt into his body. No matter how warm and perfect it looks. Or how great it smells.

"A business associate." He says and I raise my eyebrows in question. "That's all. And before you ask; legitimate. Although I should have her fucking arrested for daylight robbery," he mutters towards the lift with a shake of his head.

I frown. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing you need to worry about." He replies.

Why is it whenever he says that I do the complete opposite? I worry.

"Well, later we can talk about whether I need to worry about her or not." I throw a withering stare in the direction she just went and he smiles that small smile again.

"So that's why you came here? To talk?" he asks, sharp canine  nibbling hard on his bottom lip.

"Yes, I did. We're in a relationship in case you hadn't noticed, and I'm not going to just sit at home until you decide you're not angry at me anymore. We're not going to sort this with you ignoring me either.  We need to talk about it, properly." I assert.

He mulls over my words a moment still absently chewing on his bottom lip. I wish he wouldn't do that. It makes me hungry watching him do that.

"Okay." He says letting out a long breath, shoulders slumping slightly. "Let's go back in and talk about it then, properly."

At the door he punches in the code, his hand unlike Kevins not obscuring the six digit number - also the fact that he doesn't try to obscure it softens something inside me for some reason. He holds open the door open, staring at me hard as I cross the threshold into his office once more.

"You want anything?" he asks as I walk towards the sofa where the faint indents of two bodies still remain.

He's standing by the low drinks cupboard under the TV and when I shake my head he walks toward me and lifts his glass and the bottle of Jack Daniels from the table before taking a perch on the edge of his large oak desk. He's facing me and silent as he refills his glass halfway before reaching around to place the bottle down behind him.

Keeping his eyes on me he raises the glass to his lips and takes a long large gulp, not wincing at all as he swallows it. How do people do that? I've never understood it. He does the same thing twice more before I can't take any more.

"Please say something, Jake."

"What is it you want me to say, Alex?"

"I don't know. You're the one being distant and who needs space," I stretch out my hands indicating the room. "I want to fix this. Don't you?"

He thinks about this as he raises the glass to his mouth again. Then he shrugs softly. "I don't know how to." He says before taking another drink, a small sip this time.

The rush of blood to my head is quick and immediate and my heartbeat kicks up a gear. My legs tremble slightly too and a tremor of nausea rolls over my stomach. I feel sick.

"What do you mean?" I ask in a small voice.

He sighs for what feels like the hundredth time tonight and looks down at the almost empty glass in his hand. "I mean I don't know how to fix this." When he brings his head up again he looks confused, and sad.

"I assume fixing it means you want me to just stop being pissed off about it? But see, I honestly don't know how to do that. Every time I think about you with him I want to hurt someone. And since I don't know where the fuck he is..." His jaw clenches tightly. "And since I can't fucking stop thinking about it, about you with him, about you trying to forget about me by being with him, I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do about it. How do I fix that Alex?"

Very aware of the hammering in my chest and the panic rising from below I move toward him, into the space between his legs. Maybe if I'm physically close to him then the rest will follow?

If he doesn't know how to fix it then I need to figure it out, and fast.  There's no other option. I know now that there's no point in trying to enforce the technicality that we weren't together. He clearly doesn't care about that. I need to try something else. Something more important, something I should have said last night.

"Jake I know you were hurting too, when we were apart, I know that. I guess trying not to think about us meant that I forgot to think about that too..." I drop my eyes guiltily for an instant before bringing them back to meet his. "I know if you'd drowned your misery in another woman I'd be angry too, heartbroken and angry."

His eyes narrow. "So that's what you did? You drowned in him?"

Jesus, why can't I say the right thing?

"No," I shake my head. "No, I didn't drown in him. I was just... drunk and he was there and I missed you." I take hold of his hands, which are still wrapped tightly around the glass. God, I just want them on me, or in me, touching me somewhere.  I never want anyone else but him to touch me for as long as I live.

I look down at our hands and at how perfect they look inside one another. I love his hands.  "I thought I wanted him but I didn't, not really," I continue, my voice trembling slightly, "it was you that I wanted. I missed you so bloody much that all he did was make it worse. I felt guilty and stupid." I look up at him to find his eyes intensely focussed on me, he's seemingly hanging on every word.  "But it helped me realise that I couldn't be without you anymore, and that I couldn't go on like that. I just couldn't live like that, without you. Maybe I should have told you about him and I'm sorry I didn't. But it wasn't to keep it from you, or lie to you, it's just there's been so much going on and I didn't want to... well... pile on any more for us to deal with." I think about the baby then, and for the tiniest fraction of a second I think about telling him, right now in this instant, but then the notion is gone as quick as it arrived. It's not the right time. In fact, right now is maybe the worst possible time to tell him I'm having his child. I'm not sure when the right time will but I know it isn't here in this room under this smothering mass. It needs to be soon though. I don't think we would recover from any more hidden things. 

As I wait for him to respond, I notice again the music behind me, it sounds like a female voice and vaguely familiar. It's louder now and I can hear the crowd and though it's a little distracting I'm actually glad of its company, because it fills the otherwise heavy silent space between us.

I'm about to prompt him when he moves, placing the glass behind him next to the bottle before turning back and taking both my hands in his. My heart soars from the increased contact, a fluttering sensation moving upwards into my throat.

"This is all new for me Alex, you know?" He says. His voice is soft and uncertain, vulnerability seeping through the cracks.

"What is?" I ask. He squeezes my hands tighter, stroking his thumb back and forth over my ring finger.

"All of this stuff.  Feeling like this, being with someone, like this. Like you. That's what I meant when I said I don't know how to fix it." His head comes up and his eyes meet mine again. They look so blue and so deep and I don't ever want to look away from them again. "I've never cared about anyone enough to want to fix anything. I've never been here before." He lets one of my hands go brushes his knuckles softly over my cheek before moving it to hold my face. My eyes close and I lean my head into his palm.

When he speaks again his voice is quiet and soft. "I know how this will sound yeah, but it is what it is... I always felt like you belonged to me, like you were meant for me. Right from the start I felt that, from that night you fixed me. Drove me fucking mental, to be honest," he smiles a little. "But when I told you that day that I felt like I'd been waiting for you, I meant it. I just wish..." His voice trails off and I hold my breath, half terrified of what he might say next. "I just wish I'd been fucking ready for you, you know? That my life wasn't such a fucking mess when you finally came along. I wish I was a different kind of person,"

"Jake I've told you, I love you. Nothing else matters. We're tog-." He puts his hand up to quiet me and widens his eyes, an urgency in them now.

"I need to know something... the truth Alex," he warns. "When you were with him, when we were apart, did you ever think that maybe it was for the best? That it would have been better for you if you'd never fucking met me? Do you ever think about that? About how much better off you'd be?"

The breath freezes in my lungs. He can't be serious. How the hell can he ask me that? Now. After everything. How can he still think he isn't what I need or want? What the hell do I need to do to prove that I belong with him?

"How can you say that?" I whisper.

"Baby you're better than this..." he looks around him, a sad smile moving across his mouth.

"I'm not listening to that Jake. Stop it. Now." I flare, the tears pushing against the back of my eyes. I push my body into him, meeting his stare with a defiant one of my own. "You want the truth, then here it is, listen to it. No, I didn't think that. And I have never thought that. Not once has it ever even entered my mind, not for an instant. Not even when my heart was in a million bloody pieces. Even then I wanted you and I loved you.  Because I knew you were the only one who could fix the way I felt.  That feeling you have about me belonging to you? It's because it's true. I do belong to you, and even when we were apart I belonged to you. Like you belong to me.  I love you. That's your truth, Jake."

He stares at me for what seems like hours, his breathing quick and fast, his eyes heavy with emotion. So many moments pass where nothing happens but everything needs to happen and I honestly have no clue what's going through his mind or whether my words have like most times done nothing but bounce off of that hard outer shell of his.

Then he moves, fast, the suddenness of it taking my breath away. His other hand comes up and he holds my head as his mouth crushes down onto mine and his tongue delves deep into my mouth. The first thing I taste is the warm delicious spice of the bourbon on his tongue - definitely, the best bourbon I've ever tasted - and he moans loud against me, sucking, biting and licking at my mouth hungrily.

I can't breathe. The kiss is faintly reminiscent of the first time he kissed me here in this office but it has the weight of love and need and loss behind it now.

In order to stay upright as his body pushes forcefully into mine, I stagger backwards, stopping only when the surface of the large window hits my back. As the chill of the glass hits the back of my thighs I throw my arms around him and breathe him in.

His deep masculine scent hits my nose and my throat and my lungs all at once, before coiling deliciously in the pit of my stomach and around the tops of my thighs. Tightening. Trembling.  He devours my mouth, his tongue and lips unforgiving as those beautiful moans I love so much escape from the back of his throat. He wraps a hand around my bum and hoists me up off the floor, lifting my leg and sliding his hand up my inner thigh and under my dress, cupping me between my legs, rubbing me harshly over the damp material.

With a groan he pulls my knickers aside roughly and slides two warm fingers deep inside me so that I gasp with pleasure. I bite down hard on his lip which partially stifles my moans but not his.

"Alex... Fucking hell I want you so much..." he breathes against my mouth. I moan loud as he kisses his way down my chin and licks his way down my throat and around to my neck as his fingers move deep inside me. God, it's been too long. A day apart from him is too long now. Far far too long.

My body feels the same; greedy and starved it grabs on to him, hands, thighs and insides all trying to draw him further into me. As he spreads me open and fucks me with his fingers my climax starts to build, quicker than I expect and I move my hips wantonly against his hand and bury my head deep in his neck. The cords of muscle under his skin here feel strong and vital and taste salty against my tongue.

"I need you too... please," I whimper against the heat of his neck. Drawing his mouth away from my collarbone, he pulls his head up and looks deep into my eyes and kisses me roughly on the mouth, his eyes wide open as he does. Possessive. Fierce. Intense is what I see.

That's when it hits me. I need to show him how far I'm willing to go to prove that I belong to him.

And right then I know exactly how to do it.