Extract

 

'Nils.'
'Yes?'

'Nothing. I'm just trying it out. Nils . . . Nils,' she repeated slowly, resting her head back against his arm and feeling dangerously close to falling asleep, right there in the middle of the afternoon. This was so good. How come she had forgotten how good this was?

Eve turned and smiled at the broad, freckled face beside hers on the pillow. 'It might be quite fun to do this all again some time,' she said, already with a little stomach flip replaying the best bits in her mind.
'Yes please,' he answered, in the Dutch, butter-melting-on-toast accent which had landed her here in the first place.

He rolled onto his side and propped his head up with a hand to take a better look at her. So pretty in the way he thought of as totally English: skinny as a whippet, perfect nose, thin lips, hair too blond, too long and scruffy, nails . . . endearingly, the worst he'd ever seen. Had she been digging with her bare hands?

Without another word, just smiling, he ran a fingertip slowly, slowly from her chin to her belly button.
'You're very nice naked,' he said.
'Likewise,' was her answer and she moved in close so they were pressed up against each other. 'And now I know you're a natural blond,' she teased, moving her fingers down his chest to the damp curl of hair at the very base of his stomach.

He put both arms round her, squeezed her tightly and she felt herself sighing with relief. This was OK. It was good. It was fun. She was going to be all right. She was going to be able to move on.