I dive straight into speech. “I like it too.” His eyes widen in surprise for a split second before he conceals his gaze, his lashes swooping down to cover that bright gaze. “Oi,” I say quietly and he looks at me again. “I am so sorry about today,” I say firmly. He opens his mouth, and I shake my head. “Please let me say it.” He nods, and I take a deep breath. “I never should have reacted like that. It was horrible, and I was unkind because I panicked. And that was because I am older than you, Jess. You deserve a lot more than some middle-aged bloke who’s too scared to try.” I look at him as he watches me from his spot on my chest. “But I’m not too scared now,” I say softly, and he jerks slightly.

“What?”

I huff. “I think you might have noticed that I can’t keep my hands off you.”

I grab his hand, examining the long slender fingers and bitten nails, and, seized with a stupid tenderness, I bring it to my lips and press a kiss into the palm. He folds his fingers over it reflexively, as if holding the kiss, and stares at me, still silent as I speak.

“I’ve had all day to think about this, and I don’t want to keep my hands off you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, Jess. I don’t know where it’s going, but I know I don’t want to stop now. I want to–” I hesitate. “We’re going back tomorrow, and I want to see you again. Not just for sex,” I say quickly as he stares at me, his eyes as bright as a penny. “I want to get to know you.”

“Are you saying you want to go out with me?”

I feel my cheeks flush. “What a terrible expression. No, I’m not doing that.”

“Would you rather pay your addresses to my father and arrange to court me? I’ll make sure my mum’s got a good book for when she’s sitting in the same room chaperoning us.”

“You’re hilarious,” I try to say and then just give up and laugh. Sometimes it’s easier to cut out the middleman and head straight to Jesse Land. And it’s such a relief to hear his humour again after what I did.

I sober. “I can’t promise forever like those books you read,” I say softly. “I mean–”

He stops me talking with the simple move of putting his hand over my mouth. “No one can say that at the beginning of a story,” he says quietly. “It’s always saved to the end of the book.” He smiles calmly at me, and I feel moisture in the back of my eyes at his trusting expression. “I want to try that too, Zeb. I really want to.”

I draw him into a hug, squeezing him until he wheezes and starts to laugh. When I let him go, his merry face is front and centre again, and I smile helplessly back. “Then let’s try,” I say.