When I opened my eyes, slowly, it took me five seconds to work out I wasn't in my own bed. No, this mattress stretched on for miles, a king size compared to my single, a chocolate-brown duvet rather than my thrift-store floral. Matching furniture—two wardrobes and a chest of drawers in light wood. And a window. A window with a glimmer of moonlight shining through and illuminating the hand splayed across my stomach.

Another five seconds, and I realised who was in bed with me, and by extension, whose bed I must be in. Will's. His musky smell was a dead giveaway, but underneath that was a hint of smoke, and before I could freak out about being wrapped up in a man, the events of last night hit me like a rocket-propelled grenade. A punch to the gut that left me fighting for breath.

"Easy, easy."

Will's whispered words brushed over my ear, a veil of calm. I stopped struggling.

"Nothing happened," he said.

What? No, the acrid aroma clinging to my skin told me the fire was more than a dream.

"Everything happened, Will. Someone burned our home down."

"I meant between us." He lifted the corner of the duvet. "See? We're both still fully clothed. I know you hate people being close, but I couldn't bear to leave you alone."

Somebody had tried to kill us, and he was worried about sharing a bed? My sludgy brain pondered that for a minute. I suppose after what I'd said to him about hating a man's touch, it was sweet that his first thought should have been for my feelings. But that was Will all over—sweet. And his touch? It felt...comfortable. Like I could get used to waking up with him beside me.

And that thought scared me, not the heaviness of his arm.

I rolled away and sat up, squashing myself against the padded leather headboard, and the movement unleashed a tsunami of questions. Why did someone set fire to our flat? Who? How did I get here? The answers wouldn't come. I drew my legs up to my chest, hugging them close as I sifted through memories.

Will turned on the lamp on his bedside table and rolled over, propping his head up on one elbow.

"I won't ask if you're okay, because that's a dumb question. But what can I do to help?"

I burst into tears.

Will's muttered, "Shit," as he crawled up the bed barely registered, but his arm did as he wrapped it around my shoulders, tentatively, as though he was afraid I'd push him away.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," I whispered.

"What do you mean, what's wrong with you? You escaped from a burning building last night—crying's natural."

"You're not crying. And the last time it happened, I didn't cry."

"Last time? Tell me you haven't been firebombed before."

"In Syria. I climbed out of the building and I didn't shut down like this." Another sob burst out. "I'm sorry."

"Fuck."

One arm turned into two as Will pulled me into his lap and wrapped me up in his strength. And yes, perhaps I should have panicked, but this was Will and I burrowed into his chest as he pressed kisses against my hair.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, Nia. You didn't start the war."

"But..."

He pressed a finger against my lips. "Shh."

No, I couldn't "shh." I ignored his finger and spoke anyway.

"I don't want to be a burden. It wasn't only me who could have died last night. You and Shannon and Aisling and Taffy..." I sensed his eyes rolling when I mentioned the cat. "Where is Taffy?"

"In the games room."

A games room? Bloody hell, Will lived in a whole different world to me.

"Well, they could have died, and it was all my fault."

"How exactly do you work that one out?"

"I overheard the police talking. They said there's an arsonist targeting refugees."

"We don't know that for sure. Hell, I've pissed plenty of people off over the years. Or maybe Shannon upset someone."

I half laughed, half snorted, then cursed because I sounded like a pig in distress. "Shannon's too nice to upset anyone."

"What about her exes? Aisling's father or the asshole before him? And she wasn't too polite to RJ the other night."

"I still don't see it. We've kept out of their way."

"Maybe Taffy shat on something he shouldn't have?"

This time, I laughed properly because that idea was so stupid it was funny.

"That's better," Will said. "A smile."

"I still hate being a burden. I mean, Christmas is ruined for everyone."

Will tilted my chin so I was forced to look at him, and I didn't see anger in his eyes, or sorrow, more of a gleam.

"Ruined? I don't think so. It's Christmas Day, and I've got my girl in my bed. Sure, we're not quite as naked as I'd like, but we've got to start somewhere." He dipped his head closer, an inch from my ear. "Because make no mistake, Nia. You're my girl. I don't care how slow we need to take things, but I'm not letting you go."

A month ago, I'd have been running down the stairs already, but today, the idea of being claimed by Will brought a rush of warmth rather than cold terror. Sure, he could be a persistent asshole at times, but I kind of liked the thought of him being my persistent asshole. And from the way my heart thumped against my ribcage, it agreed. There were just a couple of problems.

"Will, I'm not sure..."

"I am."

"You can't ask—"

"I'm not asking. I'm telling you: you're mine. No other woman makes my heart do this."

He pressed my hand against his chest, and sure enough, it was dancing to the same tune as my own. I reciprocated the gesture, and the dirty git let his fingers stray sideways to my breast.

"Will..."

"Sorry." His lips came closer to my ear, brushing against it. "Okay, I'm not."

"Will, what if the arsonist comes back? What if he finds us here?"

"RJ's got a trickshit security system. If anyone sets foot on the property, it sets off an alarm on his phone." He stopped feeling me up long enough to flex his knuckles. "And I'd quite like it if he did stop by. So would my golf clubs."

Another bubble of laughter escaped. "You play golf? I can't imagine you playing golf."

"Hey, I was posh once. And they're actually RJ's golf clubs. I sold mine on eBay when I got short of cash."

Will nibbled my earlobe, and I stiffened. Not because it felt uncomfortable—far from it, I wanted to relax and enjoy his attention—but because I didn't have the faintest clue what I should do next.

"Will, stop."

He did, in a heartbeat, loosening his grip until his arms fell away completely.

"Sorry, Nia. Too fast, right? You have no idea how much I want you right now."

The duvet had slipped to the side, and Will was wearing a pair of sweatpants that showed everything. Yes, I knew exactly how much he wanted me, and a foreign throb pulsed between my legs as my body began to respond. And it felt...good. No, more than good. Delicious.

"I don't know what I'm doing," I whispered. Obviously, I wasn't a virgin. We'd already had that sickening discussion. But I'd never willingly participated in sex before. "I've never kissed a man properly, and I just used to lie there wishing it was over."

Oh, hell, now the tears were back. My emotions were on a roller coaster today when all I wanted to do was ride the fairground horse.

But rather than run, Will gathered me up again, stroking my hair as he murmured the sweet words that would be my undoing.

"Kissing's like everything else, Nia. It takes practice. And you've got a willing partner right here. I'll put in as much effort as it takes for us to reach the top of the league. We'll win the gold medal. With lips like yours, you'll never be anything but a winner. We'll be the world champions at snogging, you'll see."

My eyes strayed to his crotch again. "And I suppose you've got the equipment for us to win the gold cup at sex too?"

Will's lips quirked into a filthy smirk. "I'm pleased you noticed."

Then before I could think, he rolled me underneath him and lowered his lips to mine. Softly, so softly, the merest touch at first. Our breaths mingled, and I wished I'd brushed my teeth. But Will didn't seem to care. That soft caress became a kiss pressed to each corner of my mouth, then a gentle lick along the seam of my lips. My mouth opened all of its own accord and invited him in, and it turned out that when I gagged my brain and gave in to feelings rather than thoughts, I did know how to kiss. At least, I knew how to kiss Will. And by the time Aisling's wails drifted up the stairs, it was me pulling Will closer rather than the other way around.

But nothing good ever lasted in my life, and he lifted his head as footsteps sounded outside the door.

"Where's Shannon?" I asked.

"RJ put them both in his bed. Without him in it," Will hastened to add. "He values his teeth."

"I should help."

I struggled to get out from under Will, but he held my shoulders down and dipped his head to press one last kiss against my lips.

"No, I'll go mediate. You take a shower. Fresh towels are in the bathroom cupboard, and I'll find you something clean to wear."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm always sure."

Now he got up, offered his hand, and helped me to my feet before pulling open the nearest wardrobe.

"Sweatpants, a T-shirt... Socks are in the top drawer," he muttered. "I don't have any girl underwear."

"I'd be more worried if you did."

That gleam in his eyes came back. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the idea of you going commando."

"Go and help RJ."

I closed the door to the en suite, but Will's grin told me he'd caught the smile on my face before I did so. And even when I thought about the hell of the fire last night, that smile wouldn't leave. Because those flames had brought me closer to Will, and if I was his, then that made him mine. My own dirty-talking, boundary-pushing, wandering-handed, ex-posh private investigator.

That man would be the death of me.

If somebody else didn't get there first.