I catch up and throw my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side, and she comes with ease, my stride dropping to her slow meander. Her head sits perfectly on my chest. Her arms fit perfectly around my back. Her hand rests perfectly on my stomach. She’s mad with me but finding comfort in me. I drop my mouth to the back of her head and hold it there as we walk, and she answers by slipping her hand beneath my T-shirt, stroking over my stomach. Her tracing stops over my scar.

And I squeeze her into me that little bit harder.

I never knew wandering aimlessly could be so pleasurable. She moves so in sync with me, her steps following mine, as I weave our joined bodies through the crowds of Camden market. Every so often, she stops at a stall and pokes around, but never, not once, does she break her hold of me. For every second we’re stuck together, I feel myself fusing to her even more. My heart blending with hers. My mind traveling in circles. My skin permanently buzzing.

My fears intensifying.

I’m a man tiptoeing on the edge of paradise and destruction, and this woman in my arms will dictate which way I fall. I look down at her tucked into me, mentally begging her to find strength to see this through, and when she breaks away from me, I think she might have heard my silent pleas. She starts wriggling out of her cardigan, huffing and puffing. My amusement can’t be contained, my smile breaking. For the past few hours, I’ve been thinking she must be stifling. What took her so long?

She turns a full circle, her eyes down as she pulls her cardigan around her waist, and my smile plummets when her back comes into my view. Her naked back.

“Ava,” I blurt, “your dress is missing a huge chunk.” What the heck is she doing? My dick twitches behind my jeans at the gorgeous planes of smooth, delicious skin staring back at me, then I’m checking to see if anyone else has copped a load of my half-naked girlfriend. I spot a man walking past, looking back over his shoulder. I snarl at him, returning my attention to Ava as she pivots toward me. She’s smiling. Why the fuck is she smiling?

“No, it’s the design,” she says, blasé, rolling her eyes. Another man wanders past, and my narrowed eyes follow his path, daring him to look back for another peek. He gets a good few paces before he does, and my nostrils flare dangerously. Lucky for him, he catches the growling wolf beside the beauty he’s admiring and quickly gets his wandering eyes under control.

No. This isn’t happening.