style="font-size:15px;"> ‘We’re nearly at the top,’ he said, keeping hold of her hand to help her take the last few steepest strides. He resolutely ignored the warmth of her fingers, and the way the exertion made her breasts rise and fall beneath her pink T-shirt. Jesus, did they not make it in her size? It looked as if it had been designed for a twelve-year-old and inadvertently found itself wrapped around the curves and hollows of a fully formed woman.
They reached the summit with a final tug, and he gave her a few seconds to get her breath back and appreciate why the hike was worth the effort.
‘Wow,’ she murmured, her hands on her hips as she looked down.
‘This is the highest point of the island,’ he explained, leading her across to a bench that had been placed there to take advantage of the stunning views. They’d crested the hill into a clearing, and from there there was a direct, panoramic view down across the island and the Mediterranean. Skelidos lay before them, a patchwork of fields and forests snaked through with twisting roads, a smattering of houses closer to the coast, jewel-green vegetation against impossibly periwinkle skies and vivid turquoise waters.
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