"So what should we do about this?" Ross asks, his voice husky and ever-so slightly hesitant as he circles back to my earlier question.

I suspect we already both know the answer.

One of his palms is suddenly on my lower thigh, fire burning through my jeans. The chemistry around us seems to crackle, blurring everything outside the space we're currently occupying. Our mouths are magnetically charged, pulling us closer together.

I can't believe this is actually going to happen.

"Ouch!"

My head wants to keep moving forward but it appears my hair and the bush behind me have also forged somewhat of an attraction to one another, and are now determined to cock-block us. I let out a nervous giggle. "I'm stuck to the shrubbery!" I admit squeakily, more-than-a-little embarrassed by this latest turn of events. What a time for another Skye tornado to strike!

Ross merely smiles in response, though. "Oh, Skye." My name rumbles low in his chest as he leans further in, stretching an arm around me to try to unwind the lock of my hair that's managed to attach itself to a branch. "Only you." The affection clear in his voice packs a full-blown punch.

I was briefly worried I might have ruined the moment, but if anything, the hair bondage mishap has ramped the anticipation up even more: his breath now warm on my neck as he invades my space in the most delightful of ways. Goosebumps sweep across my body like a wave, sending every single nerve ending into high alert.

"One of the many perils of having so much hair," I joke, but my voice is shaky. Having him this close is an attack on all of my senses, and my heart is fluttering frantically in response.

"There you go." He manages to free me, and I let out a sigh of relief as he smooths the strand of hair back down amongst its far more obedient friends. He returns to his original position, his eyes intent on mine again, one side of that kissable mouth kicking up into a crooked grin that makes him somehow even more irresistible in this moment. His hand is still in my hair, I realise. He's not going anywhere. And not because he's stuck to me, the way I was glued to that bush. He's craving this kiss as much as I am.

And then his those soft lips brush against mine. Lightly, delicately. Tentatively. A question in amongst the gentlest of kisses. Is this okay? Do you want this, too?

My hands reach for his face, tracing his scruffy cheeks, pulling him closer. Yes, I'm answering silently. This is more than okay. But let's up the ante a little, eh?

And with that out of the way, the kiss deepens and intensifies, the final barrier of uncertainty between us falling away. Ross' hands find my waist, pulling me towards him so I'm pretty much on his lap. I'm not complaining; in fact, I'm already desperately trying to calculate if there's a way to get any closer.

He might claim to be awkward, but his kisses most certainly are not. They're dream kisses, the type you imagine when you're a teenager reading your first romance novel. How is he so good at this? Is there a training course I've missed out on? Should I stop overthinking everything?

His tongue teases my own, his mouth soft and warm against mine. Eager fingers slip from my waist upwards, brushing silky strokes over my skin before tugging me in even more tightly. Our hearts race each other, competitive sprinting at the highest level. And, due to my position, I can also feel something else pressing against me, showing me in yet another way just how into me he is.

"Holy shit, Skye," he murmurs, backing off for the briefest of moments to study my face. His eyes are dilated, cheeks flushed, and this look is even better on him. Who would have thought the wary guy from this morning would have this much passion lurking underneath the surface? His lips drop down to my neck, nuzzling on the sweet spot just above my collar bone. How does he know how much I like to be kissed there? "I've wanted this from pretty much the first moment I saw you," he hisses into my skin, his breath shaky.

Despite my fuzzy, lust-clouded brain, I know deep down those words don't seem quite right. Questions - ones I'm not yet ready to raise - are starting to form. Tiny red flags trail along the top of these thoughts, like warning bunting.

I tell myself again not to overthink things, my head falling back as his teeth lightly scrape against my neck. Feeling trumps thought once more, and I bite my lip to stop myself from moaning out loud. After all, let's not forget that Gareth is still on the prowl.

In somewhat related news, this is the best game of Hide and Seek I've ever been part of. I hope we're never caught; perhaps we can hide here forever.

Ross trails a hand down my cheek, his breath ragged, and our gazes lock together again. Now that we've briefly stopped writhing around, I'm suddenly very much aware of the fact that I'm feeling quite . . . Wet in the crotch region?

"The wine!" I exclaim. I'd forgotten about my glass of wine in amongst all the hot eye contact and kissing and mild dry-humping. "We've managed to spill it all over me!"

For goodness sake.

He laughs, his handsome face lighting up. "Considering how we initially met, this actually seems like a bit of a full circle moment," he comments and, once again, that little niggle in the back of my mind ripples, the red flag bunting waving in the resulting breeze.

And you just know that the staff members in the Fortune Department are still on the clock today. The Skye Templeton team, especially. They work virtually 24/7, and I imagine they've been getting some pretty sweet overtime rates, so they are willing to pull out all the stops. Maybe there's a big Brucie Bonus on offer for whoever can reek most havoc?

Right now, they're probably considering the perfect time to drop the next bombshell; introduce the latest curveball into the disaster that is my life. A hand is hovering over a big red button right at this moment. "Should we do it now?" The team member asks eagerly. Maybe they're even a little trigger happy and hit it too early.

Either way, Ross has just passed me a tissue, and I'm dabbing ever-so-classily at my wine-soaked "bits" when a shadow falls over us.

Gareth, of course.

"Wow, you two are really not good at hiding," he tells us smugly. He folds his arms, a knowing smile crossing his face as he clearly clocks the fact that parts of our bodies are still intertwined. "Looks like you both got a bit . . . distracted though, eh?"

"Fuck off, Gareth," Ross mutters. He's blushing furiously as he gets to his feet, and holds out a hand to help me up too. "We were just . . . talking." When he looks at me I can still see the heat burning in his eyes, and my insides fold in on themselves like origami. 

"Whatever!" Gareth throws back over his shoulder as we start walking back towards the hotel. "But I certainly doubt Violet would see it that way." 

Ross' ex?

There's laughter in Gareth's voice as he says this, but suddenly I can't see any humour in this situation.

Violet is still on the scene?

I guess the Fortune Department can happily clock out for the day now . . .