“I’m such a fucking klutz,” I complained just as I felt Jack’s warmth behind me. When my fingers were about to turn to icicles, he reached past me and shut off the tap. Taking my hand, he dried it off with a dish towel and then led me over to the lounge. His silence put me slightly on edge, but then again, Jack wasn’t the sort of person who talked just to fill empty space. He spoke only when he had something to say.

He pulled me down to sit next to him, and we were so close I was practically on his lap. I realised oddly that this was the second time I’d accidentally burned myself in front of him. It was just my luck that I’d keep doing that in front of someone who had almost died in a fire when he was a kid. Someone who had burn scars on his body that would never be healed. He cradled my one hand in both of his, then rubbed his thumb down the centre of my palm. I sucked in a breath at the contact. It still had a mark from where I’d touched the frying pan at work, but it wasn’t sore anymore.

All of a sudden, I became aware that Jack was unusually fascinated by the burns. I remembered him back at the restaurant when he’d stared at me with those intense eyes of his, a stare that made me come over all hot and sweaty. I’d thought he was trying to soothe me now, but he wasn’t. Well, not in the way I imagined. He was looking at the burn mark and my singed fingertips like they were a work of art, and he was completely captivated. He was so absorbed his eyes practically glowed with it. My mouth felt dry, and my stomach was doing somersaults. The camper van felt so quiet. All I could hear was his breathing, which was slightly quicker than usual.

Finally, I broke the quiet when I whispered his name. “Jack.”

It was like my voice had reminded him that he wasn’t alone in the room, just him and the work of art, because his gaze shot to me, and God, it burned more than the damage I’d done to my hand. In a split second he pushed me back so I was lying on the sofa, and he moved so that his hands were braced on either side of my shoulders. He held himself above me, barely touching me, chest rising and falling with his quickening breaths. My eyes flickered down, and I was startled to see the thick length of his erection outlined against his jeans.

He was turned on. Whoa.

His eyes flickered back and forth between mine, as though asking for permission, and I must have given it to him, because he began moving down until he reached my belly. He pushed my shirt up to just below my breasts, revealing the pale skin of my stomach and abdomen. Starting at my ribs, he began planting kisses downward, and I gasped at the sensation of his warm lips on me. When he reached the waistband of my jeans, he nuzzled the soft part of my belly, then shocked the hell out of me when he slid his hands over my hips and around to squeeze my backside. Quick as a flash, he lifted me and buried his face between my legs. A small yelp escaped me, tingles radiating down my spine and culminating everywhere he touched.

I think I could have come from that alone. He eyed me from below, moving his face back and forth, his nose hitting just the right spot, and I trembled with pleasure, reaching down to sink my hands into his hair. I felt him take a deep breath as though drinking in my scent, and I swear my entire body turned to jelly.

We were so lost in one another that I didn’t hear the door open and Lola step inside. I glanced up just as she turned and saw us there in the lounge, and my cheeks grew insanely red.

“Oh, wow, um, sorry to interrupt,” she said, and the moment Jack heard her, he pulled away from me like someone had given him an electric shock. I fell back into the seat when he dropped me, instantly missing the warmth of his hands…and his face. When I looked at him, he was standing, striding past Lola and straight out the door. I lay there in confusion, trying to comprehend how we got from me making sandwiches, to his face dry humping my vagina, to him skulking away like he’d just realised what a mistake he’d made.

“Crap, Lille, these sandwiches are completely burned,” Lola complained as she unplugged the toaster and sat down in a chair. A moment of awkward silence elapsed between us. In the grand scheme of things, we didn’t know one another very well, and she’d just walked in on quite the scene.

“I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up,” I said, still feeling entirely discombobulated.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry for walking in like that,” she apologised, and then a cheeky smile lit her face. “You two should have put a sock on the door handle or something.”

“What you saw, it wasn’t exactly planned,” I told her, fixing my top in place.

“No? So, do tell me, how did it come about? Because I swear, that is one of the hottest things I’ve seen in a while. He looked like he wanted to devour you from the inside out.”

I screwed up my mouth at her description and thought about her question. I didn’t really know how to answer it. Well, Lola, I burned my hand, and Jack got so turned on by it that he practically jumped on me.

Yeah, I definitely wasn’t telling her that. In all honesty, I still didn’t know how I felt about it.

“We were sitting on the couch, and it just kind of happened,” I lied, shrugging.

“I knew that he liked you, I could sense such a vibe,” she said, looking happy with herself. “Just remember what I said. Be careful. Enjoy the ride, but don’t let your heart get involved, and everything will be fine.”

She got up then and began putting some food away in the cupboards. I contemplated what she’d told me with a small feeling of dread. I felt like I’d already allowed my heart to become involved, and he hadn’t even kissed me yet. Just over twenty-four hours ago, he’d had another woman in his bed, and I was letting my heart get involved.

I couldn’t tell if I was being very, very reckless or just very, very naïve.

Sigh.

Of course, getting my heart broken was on my list, but it felt different in theory. Now that it was a real possibility, I was afraid, afraid of the pain I might have to endure once Jack discarded me. He seemed to be enjoying my company right now, but I wasn’t under any illusions that it was going to last.

Would I be able to pick myself up and move on? Be a better person for having the experience? I had no answers to those questions.

The next morning, the sun was shining again. I took a shower on the campsite and managed to get back to the camper without bumping into Jack. I left my hair down to dry in the sun and wore a simple sky-blue dress. I felt light and airy on the outside, but oh, so heavy on the inside.

Setting up my new easel, I placed a fresh canvas on the wood, adjusted the height, and then sat down to paint. Sometime later, a hand swept my hair along the back of my neck, knuckles brushing lightly across my skin. Pleasurable shivers skittered down my spine, and I closed my eyes for a second, savouring the touch, instinctively knowing it was him without having to look.

“That’s an odd picture of Bea you’re painting,” he commented, gripping my neck for a moment before letting go. I swallowed, watching as he went to grab a folding chair that had been resting against the side of the camper and sat down. I was secretly thrilled I’d done a good enough job of depicting her likeness that he knew right away it was Bea. He had a bottle of water with him, unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink. Staring at his profile as he drank made me feel flush as I remembered the previous evening, how he’d kissed his way down my stomach.

“She asked for it. I think it’s pretty,” I replied, ogling him and dabbing my paintbrush into some yellow paint. I wasn’t sure why he’d decided to hang out with me, but I was pleased by the turn of events. A tiny part of me relished the fact that I never quite knew what he’d do next. We sat in companionable silence for over an hour. Jack alternated between watching me paint and reading a dog-eared paperback he’d brought with him. At the angle I was sitting, I couldn’t see the cover to tell what it was.