“Do you think I’m in the habit of inviting random blokes to my digs?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“As well you should,” I said loftily. “Just see you don’t do it again.” He looked downcast, and I swore. “I wasn’t serious, Jeremy, I swear it.”
“Yes, James.” Bit by bit his body relaxed against mine.
I hummed in approval and ran my palm up and down his spine, taking care not to put pressure on his bruises.
“I really can’t stay long, however. I’ve got that paper for Dr Mallard.”
“Have you decided on a topic?”
“Not actually.”
“Do it on Catherine the Great being shagged by her favourite stallion.”
“James! You’re incorrigible, sir!”
“Seriously, I’ll help with whatever topic you choose. Please stay. An hour?” I wheedled. I knew I could talkhim into staying, but it was more important that he choose to on his own.
He shook his head.
“Half an hour?”
“Really, James. I thought you promised me a meal.”