Just as I’m getting to a good part, Mark appears.
‘What’s that?’ he asks.
‘Nothing,’ I say, quickly closing the book. I don’t want him reading over my shoulder. I can guarantee that he knows the Greek word foreverysex position.
He peers at it. ‘Game of Hatred,’ he translates. ‘Sounds heavy.’
I hide a smile. ‘It’s good for my Greek to push myself.’
We wander to the English section and he suddenly stops at a carousel displaying racy romances.
‘You like a good heaving bosom?’
He looks at me confused, then his eyes flick to my neckline. ‘I mean … yes?’
He’s misunderstood my clumsy joke, and I’m suddenly back in the shed only wearing half my bikini.‘I wasn’t talking about…’ I temper my breathing so my own bosom stays stock still. ‘I meant these books – they often get dismissed for having heaving bosoms on the cover.’
‘Oh, right, right.’ He keeps his eyes forward, like he doesn’t know where to look. ‘Have you read any? They’re not bad.’
It’s my turn to look confused. ‘And you know thishow?’
‘Someone gave me one as a joke years ago but I lost it.’ He lowers his voice. ‘It was fucking hot.’
All the free porn available online at the click of a button and Mark finds erotic novels hot? I’m impressed. And slightly turned on.
‘You know you could order it on Amazon?’
‘What, and fuck up my algorithm?’
I shake my head. ‘What was it called?’
‘That’s the problem – I don’t remember, but it was something likeSucking Off the Sicilian Surgeon.’
I laugh. ‘I can promise you, it wasnotcalled that.’
He smiles. ‘It should have been. The heroine spent half the book on her knees. Don’t get me wrong, I like a blow job as much as the next Sicilian surgeon but please don’t fellate me during a procedure. My hand is steady, but it’s not that fucking steady. World-famous brain surgeon Vincenzo Mascarelli either has nerves of steel or an excellent lawyer to fight off all the medical malpractice suits.’
‘It’s called artistic licence. You have to suspend your disbelief.’
He steps towards me and drops his voice. ‘There’s a scene where he ties her hands together with his stethoscope …’ He trails off, and I give up trying to stop my bosom from heaving.
‘And then?’
His voice gets lower. ‘He takes some mascarpone cream and dips his first two fingers into it …’
‘Andthen …?’
Mark rubs his cushiony bottom lip with his knuckle. ‘You really want to know what the surgeon does next?’
I swallow and nod.
His eyes are glassy. ‘You’ll never look at tiramisu the same way again.’
‘I don’t care.’
He pauses for dramatic effect, then he leans in until I can feel his breath against my ear. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘Liar!’ I shove him, and he grins.
