Page 22 of Hot Greek Summer

Everything about her body language told him she was offended, from her braced shoulders to her balled fists beside her on the bench.

‘I always thought it was romantic, actually. Not everyone has to put themselves about like a …’ She flicked her hand towards him to encompass all that he was. ‘Like a tomcat, snogging anyone and everyone who is even halfway interested.’

Jesse laughed. ‘I like kissing, Winnie. There’s nothing wrong with that.’ He refused to be anything but blasé. ‘I like screwing, too. I like it a lot.’

‘Well, there’s a surprise. No doubt you’ve lost count of how many women you’ve …’ She flicked her hand at him again rather than repeat the word.

‘Does it matter?’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t lie. I don’t cheat. I don’t fall in love either, but we have a damn good time and we respect each other in the morning.’

She spread her fingers flat on the bench and studied them.

‘Maybe you’ve got it right. At least no one gets hurt.’

‘Things are only ever as complicated as you make them, Winnie,’ he said softly.

‘But that’s what love is, Jesse. It’s complicated, and it’s messy.’

‘I’m not talking about love. I’m talking about kissing, and about screwing, and about honesty. This thing in here –’ he tapped two fingers against his heart ‘– it doesn’t need to get involved.’ Reaching over, he drew a cross over her heart with one fingertip. ‘No entry,’ he whispered. ‘It’s better that way, trust me. You don’t need to involve your internal organs when it comes to sex. All the good stuff happens on the outside.’

She didn’t look convinced by his philosophy. ‘So to be clear, you’re saying I need to exercise my external pleasure organs more and my internal emotional organs less. Is that your actual advice?’

He swallowed. She was wide-eyed and actually looked as if she was seriously considering his life advice.

‘Did you know that your skin is the biggest organ of your body?’ he asked, letting his arm fall across the back of the bench until his fingertips brushed her upper arm. Her blue eyes widened a fraction as she registered his touch. ‘See?’

‘No, I don’t see,’ she said, pulling away a little until he was no longer touching her.

‘Then let me show you. Call it an experiment.’

She shuffled further away from him along the bench, her eyes nailed on the view. ‘Stop being so ridiculous.’

She was so very, very tense. It emanated from her every pore, and it frustrated the hell out of him that she clearly lived her life as buttoned up as if she were wearing an invisible straitjacket. He’d been there, and he’d learned that flinging off the shackles and sticking two fingers up to romantic notions and expectations was the most liberating thing you could ever do.

‘Turn your brain off. Stop thinking about anything and concentrate on that ridiculously fabulous view,’ he said quietly, and then trailed the back of his fingers slowly down her arm from her shoulder all the way to her spread fingertips on the bench between them.

‘Now do you see?’

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and her nostrils flared slightly.

‘What I see is you trying to make a point,’ she said, turning to look at him with those big, trouble-filled eyes.

‘Damn right I am,’ he said, stroking his fingertips along her jawline from beneath her ear to her chin. ‘If showing you that it’s OK to let someone make you feel good physically without risking your sanity is making a point.’ As he spoke, he let his thumb skim lightly across the fullness of her bottom lip. Jesus, it was soft.

‘And what was that supposed to show me?’ she breathed, as still as if they were playing statues.

‘That the mouth has more touch receptors than any other part of your body.’ He paused to stroke his thumb the other way across her mouth, and looked away for a second when her lips parted in a tiny, involuntary sigh. ‘Even more than …’ He lowered his gaze to her lap for a second and lifted a knowing eyebrow.

‘Are you blushing?’ he said, leaning slightly back to study her face better. ‘Man. You’re something else.’

‘I’m hot,’ she shot back, defensive.

‘You are,’ he agreed, and then slid his hand around to cup the back of her neck.

Anxiety clouded her pretty eyes.

‘I get it, Winnie,’ he said softly, massaging the tense muscles beneath her hairline. ‘You’ve never let anyone except Needledick try to make you feel good.’ Unshed tears pooled in her eyes, making him feel like a prize cock for pushing her like this. In truth, he didn’t know why it suddenly felt important, but he couldn’t hold it in.

‘I can’t separate love from sex,’ she said. ‘They go together like a package deal.’

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