Page 50 of Pomegranates and Olive

"Maybe I'm really looking forward to that." I reach over and grab anothersarma(stuffed vine leaves) from the platter on the coffee table and pop the whole thing in my mouth. "These are amazing. I wonder why Italians don't cook with vine leaves?"

Ginny leans forward and taps her glass against mine. "Why eat the leaves when you can drink the fruit?"

11

Love Is In The Air… And It Smells Like Coffee

I’ve decided that it is much better for my sanity to stay away from Deniz but that turns out to be trickier than I expect, especially because I see him every day. He's on Tora, at the helm, shirtless, with his hotter than hell inked body on show and that damn straw hat on his head. Or he's behind the bar, flirting with every customer, making them feel like they are the most important person in the world. He's even at the kitchen table in the morning, sipping coffee, chatting with Ginny and Aydin or playing with Emine.

There's simply no escaping him and so instead of fleeing the country I merely acknowledge him like you would acknowledge an acquaintance on the street – polite, disinterested, no eye contact and definitely no other kinds of contact either.

Oh, and I have three very simple rules to ensure that I keep my distance from Deniz (and to protect my vagina from being plundered):

One.

Do not spend any unnecessary time alone with Deniz.

This one is difficult because we still work together, although we are both busy and usually surrounded by people.

Two.

Do not fall for Deniz's charms.

He’s not even remotely charming so this should be pretty easy to achieve.

Three.

Do not kiss, expose my breasts or expose mymicioto Deniz... and FOR FUCK'S SAKE, DO NOT TRY TO SLEEP WITH HIM... AGAIN!

Right, so that last rule seems to be the one I have the most trouble with. Sure, I know I basically assaulted him within an hour of meeting him and yes, I admit that there have been multiple instances of horny behaviour on my part, but that doesn't mean I want to sleep with him.

Don't kid yourself, Olive. You want him... bad!

Yeah. I do.

I'm horny. Really, really horny. All the time.

And everything about Deniz is magnified tenfold. Watching him sip coffee is pure torture to me and don’t even get me started on him hosing down the boat. It’s the absolute best type of porn.

The plan seems flawless, and if I even get the slightest urge to throw myself at Deniz, I go for a ten kilometre jog. Right now I’ve been doing those jogs at least twice a day… just to take the edge off.

I woke up this morning after yet another night of Deniz-filled sexual fantasies so I decide on an early run. I slip on my running shorts and tank, quickly braid my hair and set off with Betty. We’d only been just left Ginny’s when we smack straight into Deniz. He must have also been jogging, because he’s shirtless and his skin is coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

I can feel my plan unravelling before my lust-filled eyes.

"Russo? You're a little out of the way over here, aren't you?"

"Can you please put on your shirt?"

"Why?" Those tattoos, coupled with the memory of his skilled fingers, immediately have an effect on my nether regions and I have an overwhelming urge to trace the one on his chest with my tongue. "Am I making you feel things?"

"You and your sweaty chest do nothing for me. At all."

He raises his eyebrows at me. “Sweaty chest?”

I snort at him dismissively. "And seeing that you asked, I'm going for a jog to the ridge. I have a tree there."

He turns and falls in step beside Betty and I. "You have a tree?"

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