I start by digging out a roll of bin liners from the cupboard under the sink, not shocked to see they've been unopened. I'm not sure he's ever used a bin in this place.

Once the rubbish is disposed of, I clean the kitchen, grateful that there aren't many dishes to clean as it means I can spend more time cleaning the empty cupboards.

Once that's done and the floor is mopped, I grab the laundry basket and fill it, disgusted when I find even more discarded clothing in his bedroom. He's so lucky the washing machine is a nine kilogram. I can fit most of it in one wash.

His pockets are full of wrappers and used scratch cards. A pair of his jeans even holds an open but unused condom, still in its wrapper. That is so gross.

By the time I'm done two hours have pa.s.sed and I'm wondering if I have time to shower.

"Dear G.o.d," I say, almost hurling in disgust at the sight of the shower and the toilet. "How the h.e.l.l does he get clean in here?"

I ruin my clothes with bleach and I don't even care. I go through two bottles of the stuff and get severe cramp in my arms from the scrubbing, but I still don't care. By the time I'm done, the bathroom is sparkling and the laundry is done.

I switch the washing into the dryer and place another load into the washer.

He said don't snoop, but I'm sure he won't mind me looking for a clean towel.

Unfortunately I don't find one. I do find a hairdryer, though, and a clean T-shirt in his closet. I'll have to make do.

I have to admit that the showers my dad installed in all of his homes are b.l.o.o.d.y brilliant. They're so powerful, it feels like I'm stood under a waterfall. Why hasn't he installed one of these in my bathroom?

I'm definitely bringing that unfairness up to him when I'm allowed back into my home.

Isaac Using the spare key, I let myself into my apartment and the first thing I smell is bleach, lots of it.

"What the h.e.l.l?" I've been gone five hours. I check my watch to double check that fact. Yep, it has only been five hours and I don't even recognise my apartment.

Where's the mess? Where are my clothes?

I hear the washing machine and the dryer humming. Well that explains the latter.

"Elle?" I call into the darkness as my hand flicks on the light.

The room illuminates, showing a freshly vacuumed carpet and dust free units. Maybe she left already.

"Elle?"

I push open the door to the bathroom and smell bleach mixed with the scent of my shower gel. She cleaned my toilet.

She actually cleaned my toilet.

How the h.e.l.l did she do all of this in less than a decade?

"Elle?" I call, louder this time as I drop my bag on the ground and make my way to the bedroom. A sudden thought crosses my mind; what if she's not dressed? She could have fallen asleep.

It doesn't stop me from slowly pushing open the door until the light from the room spills over the bed.

My mouth goes dry and my brain implodes. I inhale a shallow breath and grip the doorframe for support.

She's not sleeping. She's lying on her stomach with her legs bent and her ankles crossed in the air above her knees. Her legs are naked. They look so smooth.

I recognise the T-shirt she's wearing. It's my lucky shirt and normally I'd be p.i.s.sed that someone is wearing it, but I realise that it has only served me another dish of luck. I gaze upon her form, the way the shirt skims just below her curvaceous a.r.s.e, showing the entirety of her shapely, bare thighs. Her hair is slightly damp and rests over one shoulder. She has my IPad in her hands and headphones over her ears. I hear the faint sound of music travelling from them and realise that's how she hasn't heard me. She's far too enthralled with whatever she's doing to have noticed me come in.

I imagine myself sitting beside her, kissing her ankle while my hand strokes up her thigh and back down again. I imagine her turning over and smiling as I lift the large top up and over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, revealing her smooth figure hiding beneath.

I gulp, trying to get my mouth to produce an ounce of moisture, but I fail and instead my throat makes a strange noise.

Unfortunately at the same time I make the choked groan, the music in her ears goes silent and her head whips around to stare at me.

Neither of us move for the longest moment. I stare, my eyes lingering on her face and then on the curves that are accented by the way the top rests.

I'm not sure what happens. I'm not sure how it happens. All I know is that my legs are moving and my hands are ripping the headphones from her head. She gasps, fear and arousal swimming in her perfect f.u.c.king eyes as I toss the IPad to the side and wrap an arm around her body.

My mouth connects with hers as I pull her into a kneeling position, my arm tight under hers and around her back. She whimpers through her parted lips, her hands resting on my shoulders. I lick her lower lip, praying she gives me permission to taste her delicious looking mouth.

She does and the feeling it sends through me is almost painful. Fire courses through my veins, melting and tightening every part of me. It makes no sense. It feels unreal. I feel high. I feel like I'm on the strongest drug if drugs were to make you feel this way.

Everything melts away, reality, time, s.p.a.ce, rules. Everything is gone in one simple thing.

She meets my tongue with her own, moaning s.e.xily as I sc.r.a.pe my fingers down her sides, finally getting the chance to feel her shape, her heat.

We kiss for what seems like forever, but forever doesn't seem long enough. I don't want to stop. I don't want this feeling to stop.

I pull her closer with one arm, keeping our mouths connected as I loosen my tie with my free hand and toss it over my shoulder. Her hands finally begin to explore, starting at my hair and neck, before sliding down and working at the b.u.t.tons of my shirt. I feel her trembling. I can taste her nerves and her need in her kiss, which is strong but soft and so f.u.c.king perfect.

She finally relieves me of my shirt, her delicate fingers pushing it from my shoulders and down my arms with a little help from myself. I tear my lips from her mouth and greedily suckle at her neck, nipping and no doubt marking her perfect flesh as I go. Her head falls back and a shuddering gasp leaves her parted lips.

I grasp her breast through her shirt, loving how perfectly it fits in my hand with just a little left over. She's perfect. She feels perfect. She feels breakable and so delicate and pure.

I take my time teasing her neck and collarbone, wanting nothing more than to rip my lucky shirt open.

Her fingers run through the light hair on my chest, following every ridge and dip along my abdomen and sides.

It's my own hand that loosens my belt and pulls it free. It's my own hand that tugs at the b.u.t.ton of my trousers and pushes them down. It's my own hand that pushes her back onto the bed and it's my own hand that lifts the shirt up her body, revealing the one thing I've secretly and unknowingly desired for so long.

"Isaac," she whimpers and her hands go to cover her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

I shake my head, unable to talk. I've never felt so feral, so untamed.

I grab her wrists and pin them above her head, giving myself a second to admire her beauty, before finally pressing my bare chest to hers and pressing my tongue back into her mouth.

My hand pulls the drawer open beside the bed and searches for a foil packet. When I finally snag one, I sit back and rid myself of my boxers in a quick and well-practised move.

She leans up on her elbows, her eyes wide when she takes me in, her chest heaving as badly as mine. I slow down my movements after donning the condom. My hands trace her skin, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her stomach and thighs.

I want to taste every inch of her, but my desire to feel her at this point is too strong.

"Elle," I say softly and her eyes come to mine as my hands part her thighs. I watch her cringe as I look upon her glistening folds. Her warm scent sends me crazy. I can't control myself, but I need to. "Tell me to stop."

She leans up, her arm hooking around my neck and the side of her nose sliding along mine. She pulls me down until I'm hovering over her, our breaths mingling and our hearts beating so loudly you can hear them. "Don't stop."

I almost lose it.

I push into her sharply and smother her cry with my mouth. Her back arches and her legs tense against my hips, but I don't stop. Just like she said, I do not stop.

She feels so good, so tight, like a f.u.c.king glove made just for me. Her heat is unreal and her moisture just... perfect.

I groan and push deeper before slowly sliding out. She relaxes with a quiet whimper and falls back onto the bed. Her hands seek the sheets as I move my hips, plunging into her over and over again. It's better than imagined. It's more than I dreamed. My imagination was never this good and I have a good f.u.c.king imagination.

Her eyes flutter shut and her body writhes and tenses beneath me. The fabric of the sheets crinkles in her tight fists as I slide my hand beneath her back and pull her a.r.s.e an inch off the bed, giving me even deeper access to her sweet, hot depths.

"Isaac," she says my name with a moan and I know with one hundred percent certainty that she isn't faking that at all.

When she begins to lose herself, her reservations vanish and her awkwardness leaves her body. I soften my movements, wanting her to guide me, wanting her to teach me how she likes it, how she likes us together.

Her hips move up and down as I circle my own. Her hands grip my hair and pull my mouth to hers. Her legs move higher up my body, until her knees are as tightly bent as possible.

It's too much. I can't last. I want to keep going. I want to last the night, but I can't and neither can she. Her hips become more frantic and her forehead presses against my neck. I feel her tongue. I feel it right before I feel her teeth and feel her tense and throb inside. She's silent. She doesn't scream or cry out. She shudders and pulses. Her body throbs and heats and her teeth sink so desperately into my neck they almost draw blood.

I lose myself. The build-up releases seconds before she fully comes down from hers. I'm not so silent. I pound and growl and spill myself inside her as she clings to me. The rush of pleasure that travels through me is more intense than anything I've ever felt.

I can't stop moving and jerking. I can't stop growling and whispering her name. It's not until the pulsing stops that I finally collapse onto her, never once feeling so spent as I do now.

The second the feeling goes, the second I feel finally satisfied, I become wracked with guilt and grief. The reality of what just happened hits me.

What the f.u.c.k have I done?

Eloise I catch my breath, my body still trembling and tingling from whatever the h.e.l.l kind of explosion that was.

Isaac seems tense on top of me. His cheek is pressed against mine and he seems to have stopped breathing.

I smile. I've never felt so... so alive and amazing. If flying were possible, I don't think I'd be able to make my feet touch the ground again for at least a year.

This is what a s.e.x afterglow must be.

My fingers travel up his spine and tangle in his hair. He tenses and inhales a shuddering breath before finally pulling up and looking into my eyes.

I'm not sure what was in his eyes before he looked into mine, but now they've softened and I am slightly relieved.

I wriggle beneath him, trying to find a comfier position, and his hips and body jerk almost violently. "I'm sorry," I say and he smiles as he collapses onto me, groaning and rolling onto his side, with me in his arms.

His hand pulls my leg up and over his hip, keeping him lodged inside, not yet soft but not quite solid either.

His fingers push the hair back from the side of my face and twist it around my ear.

"Are you okay?" He finally asks, his voice gruff.

Am I? "I don't think okay quite covers it."

His laugh is quiet and it makes his body shake. This time I shudder and tense at the peculiar feeling it triggers where we're still connected. As I tilt my head back, he presses his lips to mine and rubs his nose along my cheekbone. "What time do you have to be at Hayley's?"

My body goes solid when I realise he might just want me to leave now.

"I just don't want you to get in trouble."

I relax slightly but the question still lingers; what now?

He rolls onto me, sensing the panic thrumming through me. "How about we have a shower, eat and work things out from there?"

"Okay." That actually sounds like a good plan.

"Come on." He grins and climbs out of bed, pulling on his boxers. Taking the robe that's hung loosely on the back of the door, he wraps me in it and lifts me from the bed, cradling me against his chest.

I've never been carried. I've never desired to be carried, but there's something sweet about this that would make even the toughest heart swoon.

He rests me on the closed toilet and leans into the shower. His hands press at the b.u.t.tons before the water begins to flow over his shoulder and arm.

"I'm not sure how we're going to eat," I say as he holds out his hand for me to take.

I nervously slide the robe from my body, letting it drop to the floor at my ankles. My arm crosses across my b.r.e.a.s.t.s as my other goes to cover my lower region.

"Don't," he says, pulling my hands away as he kicks off his boxers and steps backwards into the small shower. "You're beautiful."

This boosts my confidence, though only slightly. I feel better once the hot water is covering us both. It does nothing to hide me, but I feel better protected and I'm no longer cold. "You said eat, but there's nothing in your cupboards."

He grins and pulls me into his body so our fronts are connected from knee to chest. "We'll figure it out."

As his soapy hands roam over my body, rubbing and caressing all of my aches away, I can't help but wonder if I am in fact dreaming.

I just had s.e.x with my teacher and I don't know how to deal with that. I don't know what's going to happen next, but whatever happens, I know I'll never regret this.

I fill my own hands with his shower gel and rub them together until they form spicy scented bubbles that cover my hands. If this is the last time I'm ever going to get the chance to touch him, then I'm not wasting it. Sensing my thoughts and determination, he pulls back and allows me my last chance. As I ma.s.sage and rub every inch or his chest, neck, abdomen, arms and back, he kisses my lips softly and lets out a long sigh.

I let out my own and wrap my arms around him, loving the feel of his fingers in my hair as they detangle the ends.

"Wait here." He releases me and climbs out of the shower as I switch it off.

He races to the dryer totally naked, allowing me one last perusal of his beautiful, dripping wet body. I shiver as I wait. He returns with a towel around his waist and one in hand, which he wraps around me, and then pulls his robe onto my shoulders, fastening it at the front.

"What do you fancy?" He pulls open the cupboards, wincing at the emptiness of them. "Take out?"

"How do you stay so... fit?" I look him up and down. His body is toned and muscular, with no more than an ounce of padding to soften him. "When you eat so much takeout?"

He grins wickedly. "I skip lunch and breakfast a lot and mostly have dinner at my parent's. Random weekly gym sessions help. I'm not as vigorous with it all as I was when I was in Cambridge."

"You were a health freak?"

He looks sheepish. I wish I had a camera. "I took care of myself."