Violet had parked her camper van in a quieter spot on the site, so not many people passed by. Then I heard women chatting and some feminine giggles approaching us. I turned to find Julie and her two sisters strolling along, arm in arm. I’m not sure why, but I got really self-conscious and itchy, like I was doing something wrong by spending time with Jack. I knew that he and Julie weren’t a couple, but still my anxiety wouldn’t abate.

“Hi, Jack,” Julie called to him with a little finger wave. I pretended to focus on my painting as they drew nearer, while at the same time listening intently to the conversation that followed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod to the sisters and return his attention to his book. They stopped, and Molly asked, “What are you reading, Jack?” There was a flirtatious tone to her voice. “I do love a man who reads.” The other two giggled.

When Jack didn’t answer her, she ducked her head to see the cover and laughed. “The Hardy Boys? You do realise those books are for children, right?” All of a sudden, her tone was mocking rather than flirtatious, and I grew tense. When I glanced up, I saw that Julie’s blue eyes were trained on me while her sisters focused on Jack. Her mouth had formed an unhappy thin line. Swallowing, I kept dabbing my brush to the same part of my canvas, hoping she’d lose interest in me.

“Fuck off, Molly,” Jack replied, all matter-of-fact, and she let out a squeak of outrage.

“No need to be rude! I was only teasing.”

“Being a bitch, more like,” said Jack dismissively.

“You’re the face-painter girl, aren’t you?” said Julie, walking around to look at my canvas. I felt uncomfortable under her attention and had never really liked people looking at my half-finished works. She was so petite and well-formed, slim but muscular in an attractive way, that I felt myself deflate. How the hell could I compete with that?

I mustered a smile for her. “That’s me.”

She glanced at my painting, found nothing of interest, and then stepped away again. I soon discovered that she wasn’t a woman to beat around the bush when she waggled her finger between Jack and me. “So, what’s going on here?”

I was opening my mouth to say something, I wasn’t quite sure what, when Jack addressed her firmly. “Lille is painting. I’m reading. The three of you are interrupting.”

“Well,” said the third sister, Mary, “we know where we’re not wanted.” She tugged on Molly’s arm and the two walked away, but Julie remained.

“That’s not what I meant, and I think we all know that.”

Jack set his book down then and stared at her head on. He didn’t have to say a word, because the look he gave her was silencing enough. In a split second, she completely changed her tack, taking a strand of hair and twirling it around her finger.

She coughed to clear her throat. “Well, um, will I see you around the gazebo later? We’re having spaghetti bolognaise tonight, I think.”

“That’s where I usually eat,” said Jack.

She skipped forward, leant down, and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Okay, great. I’ll see you later, then.”

Her attention flickered warily to me one last time, and then she left. I nearly laughed when I saw Jack roll his eyes before they slid to me and he frowned. “Sorry about that.”

I raised my eyebrows. “No need to apologise. It’s none of my business.”

The look he gave me seared me to the core, his voice dropping so low I almost didn’t hear him. “The fact I can still smell you on me says different.”

I’m sure I flushed bright pink at his words. My paintbrush had been levelled on the canvas, and I’d completely messed up Bea’s butterfly ears. I tried to keep my voice steady as I whispered, “Don’t play games with me, Jack.”

He ignored what I said, his face taking on a contemplative expression. “I wonder if we hadn’t been interrupted yesterday, would I have been able to make you come like that?”

I swallowed deeply and glanced at him. His eyes held a thousand dark, carnal promises, and I felt completely lost, had no idea how to respond. He made a noise that sounded a lot like a growl then as he came and knelt before me, his hands cupping my knees and spreading my thighs apart so he could get between them. Next, he began running his hands up and down my thighs; they were so much warmer than the afternoon sun, and I was suddenly melting.

“Do you come sweetly, Lille? Do you shake? Do you moan and beg for release?”

I licked my lips and moved my attention from his eyes down to his mouth. I was so worked up I felt like pushing him to the grass and taking my pleasure from his perfect, beautiful body without asking for permission. I knew I’d promised myself I’d be his friend, but maybe I could be his lover, too. You didn’t always have to sacrifice one to be the other, right?

I drew my gaze up to his eyes again and told him honestly, “You’re embarrassing me, Jack.”

His thumbs rubbed at my inner thighs, and I trembled.

“Am I making you wet, too?”

Air left my lungs in a single whoosh, and I closed my eyes, unable to look at him as I answered, “Yes.”

In the next second, his hands were travelling up to my neck, sinking into my hair, and my entire body felt a pull towards him like he was a magnet and I was a piece of metal. My face fell to his neck and I breathed him in, savoured the warmth of his skin. His arms went around me and pulled my body flush with his. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and hugged him tight. When I pressed a kiss to his skin, my mouth open, tongue slipping out to lick, I felt him shudder in my arms. It stunned me to know my touch could affect him so. Had he been yearning for me the same way I’d been yearning for him?

“Your smell,” he growled, breathing deeply. “It drowns me.”

If my heart could have exploded out of my chest, it would have.

“Kiss me, Jack,” I begged, forcing myself to ask for what I truly wanted for once.

“I can’t,” he replied with a sigh of frustration.

“Please,” I whimpered desperately.

“When I kiss you, it will be everywhere. When I kiss you, I won’t stop there. If I taste you, I’ll want to taste everything.”

I fisted his shirt in my hand, silently cursing the fact that both Lola and Violet were inside the camper at this very moment and Jack’s camper was too far away. “Jesus, you’re killing me.”

His hands roamed my back, my thighs, my neck. All he had to do was slip his hand beneath my dress, and he’d be able to feel me, feel how much I needed him.

With a deep sigh he drew away, his jaw working like it took great effort to restrain himself. “Tonight, after the show, will you come to my place?” he asked, eyes hopeful.

“Yes.” There really was no other reply I could have given him. I felt hot and flushed all over, from my temples to the tips of my toes. I’d never been so worked up before in my life.

He brought his forehead to mine and breathed out, the air hitting my skin and strangely cooling it. “Thank you.”

Standing, he went to put away the folding chair he’d been sitting in and picked up his book. I frowned, remembering how Molly had mocked him for reading a kids’ book. I wanted to know why he was reading it. I mean, I knew adults read kids’ books all the time, but this was Jack. He was the last person I’d expected to be into stories like that.

I nodded to the battered paperback. “Is it any good?”

He grimaced, as though remembering that I now knew what he’d been reading. Was he embarrassed? For the first time since I’d met him, he seemed lost for words.

Scratching the back of his head, he finally replied, “Yeah, it’s…uh, Marina gave it to me. Well, she gave me a whole bunch of them.”

“Oh, right. That was nice of her.”

“Yeah. I have to go now,” he said abruptly, and turned on his heel. I watched his long strides as he walked away, not knowing what to think.