"I thought we weren't goin' to do this anymore," Nadine says, somewhere between a half-hearted protest and a moan as Cheryl's lips latch on to her neck.
It was a mistake to come here. She knew, when Cheryl suggested it over a crackling transatlantic phone call last week, that she should refuse or at the very least insist on somewhere neutral and not Cheryl's bloody marital home but here Nadine is, not exactly resisting the Geordie's attempts to press her up against the wall.
Of course, Ashley's not around - something about a Chelsea Supporters' Club commitment Cheryl had said but Nadine suspects it probably has more to do with getting p!ssed with his teammates and pulling star-struck bimbos in clubs, given his track record. (She conveniently ignores the inherent hypocrisy of what she and Cheryl are doing.)
"I've missed you so much, babe," the brunette mutters against Nadine's throat, exhaling a sharp burst of air that seems to superheat sensitive skin. "It's been weeks."
"I've been busy recordin'," Nadine responds distractedly, trying to ignore the way Cheryl's words squeeze her chest and make it suddenly difficult to breathe. "I've been in Nashville and New York and LA."
It's the truth. Mostly.
Except that she's deliberately been avoiding this reunion because she knew any attempts at meaningful conversation would just get sidetracked by this - Cheryl's hand up her top and hips grinding slowly but suggestively into her own.
She'd been trying - up until this point - to put some distance between herself and Cheryl. There was a very good reason Nadine had been one of the most vocal supporters of the band's year-long break - it was supposed to give her the opportunity to finally get Cheryl out of her head for good.
Or so she thought. It hasn't quite worked out that way because she's here, now, despite repeatedly swearing to herself that she won't put herself through this fecking drama again.
Cheryl's married - admittedly to probably the most loathed footballer in the UK - and Nadine's in a comfortable relationship with a lovely man who really doesn't deserve this, to have her carrying on behind his back. She doesn't need this mess in her life.
Yet here she is.
Somehow Nadine's powerless to refuse when Cheryl's other hand - the one that's not fondling her breast - moves purposefully between her legs, rubbing at the seam of skin-tight jeans.
"I've been thinkin' about this all fuckin' week," Cheryl says huskily, making Nadine shiver despite herself.
They can put Cheryl in labels and heels but underneath she's still that girl from a tough Newcastle estate - foul-mouthed and fiery, a diamond in the rough. All the expert styling and media coaching in the world can't take that away. It's what attracted Nadine to the Geordie in the first place and she's no more immune to the brunette's charms now than she was then. Cheryl, with her dimples and her propensity to swear like trooper, can completely undo her with just a look. How can Jason, attentive and sweet as he is, ever compete with that?
The last time they did this, after the Coldplay support gigs, they'd come to an understanding of sorts. They'd agreed that the affair should stop before somebody got hurt, that it was better for everyone involved - not least the other girls - for this to come to an end. Nadine had constructed a whole speech in her head, delivered it admirably and all the while she'd had her fingers crossed behind her back.
She'd come here today to rehash the same speech, words shuffled but the argument essentially the same and she couldn't do it. As soon as Cheryl kissed her it was a lost cause.
Cheryl's a compulsion. An addiction. Someone who is unquestionably and wholly bad for her in their present circumstances. Around Cheryl, she can't keep a clear head.
That in itself would be bad enough but it isn't just an affair anymore, not to Nadine anyway. That realisation has been forming in her mind for a while now and she's tried to pretend otherwise, tried to be happy with her lot because she really does have it good - the LA lifestyle, the upcoming album, an adoring boyfriend. She isn't sure exactly what she wants from Cheryl but it needs to be more than this: snatched moments that leave her feeling guilty once the afterglow has passed.
So she shouldn't be letting Cheryl kiss her now, tongue sliding confidently into her traitorously welcoming mouth; she shouldn't allow Cheryl to pop the button on her waistband, drag the zipper down and slip a hand into her jeans with the casual familiarity of having done it a hundred times before. Her hips shouldn't jump eagerly to meet Cheryl's touch and her own hands should most definitely not tangle in Cheryl's perfect L'Oreal-sponsored hair in a bid to pull the other woman impossibly closer.
She gasps as Cheryl's fingers glide over her clit and the kiss breaks briefly for the Geordie to smile against Nadine's lips, clearly pleased with the noise she's elicited. Not that she gives Nadine long to catch her breath before delving in to kiss her again.
Cheryl's free hand quickly abandons palming at Nadine's breast and drops to her thigh, urging Nadine to lift her leg and hook it around the brunette's bum. It gives Cheryl all the room for movement and leverage she needs to hit that glorious sweet spot that Cheryl and only Cheryl is ever able to find with unerring accuracy.
And it surprises Nadine still, how hard and fast Cheryl can bring her to the edge. It's only a matter of minutes before she comes, convulsing around Cheryl's fingers, a high moan smothered by their sealed mouths.
When she pulls back Nadine's stare catches the other woman's and her stomach drops to her knees. There's just something about seeing the stark want in Cheryl's brown eyes that completely dismantles Nadine, leaving her awed.
In that moment Nadine knows, as certainly as she's ever known anything, that she can't stop this now. Even if she's unable to look Jason in the eye, even as Cheryl tells the tabloid press her marriage has never been more solid. When she's with Cheryl the web of secrecy and lies almost seems worth it.
The End
