AN: I've been trying to do the split POV thing, where different chapters, or at least sections, are told from one POV, but that's going to stop now. The way I usually write, third person omniscient, is considered old fashioned and not v good, but I like it, I can't help it. I think before I publish this on Amazon I'll go back and rewrite the first ten chapters in 3PO, just so the change isn't so jarring. I also don't like to write kissing or love scenes from one person's POV, because it seems more satisfying, somehow, to know what's going on in both people's heads, you know? So, starting with this chapter, I'm going back to 3PO, where I shift POV, sometimes from paragraph to paragraph, like I'm an all-knowing observer, okay? It's really the best fit for me. And sorry for yanking you around.

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"Shall we go outside with our wine?" John offered when he returned. "It's a nice night, not much breeze, and not too cold yet."

Clementine nodded and rose with her wine glass. It was not quite dark outside with the light from the three quarter moon rising behind them. They stood at the railing of the deck that ran the length of the house. Clementine could hear the surf breaking gently on the beach, and, more dimly, the cars whizzing by on the PCH.

John stood as close as he dared, feeling like if he got too close she might just jump over the railing and run off down the beach. He knew she was inexperienced, and he didn't want to freak her out. He could see her front rising and falling as she breathed, and watched her throat work as she swallowed her wine.

What a pretty girl.

"Clem? Would you do me a favor?"

"After a meal like that, I'm yours to command," she replied, turning toward him.

"Would you let your hair down? Take it out of the ponytail, I mean?"

Clem blinked at him in confusion, a move he could see clearly in the light of the moon and the house behind them. "I guess, but why?"

John smiled. "You have the most gorgeous hair, and it's always up, that's all. I'd like to see it down, you know?"

Clementine reached behind her and in one fluid motion took the elastic out of her hair, freeing it to cascade around her shoulders as she shook it out.

"Ah, see?" John breathed, wanting to reach out and touch it, but holding back with monstrous effort. "Like mink or sable or something."

Clementine took another swallow of wine to cover her discomfiture. "You'd better be careful, John, you could really turn a girl's head with words like that," she said, setting her glass on the railing.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying, we're getting to be friends, which is nice, but it would be easy for even me to misunderstand you when you compliment me like that." Clementine smiled to show that she was making a joke, that she wouldn't ever really believe that someone like John would want to 'turn her head.'

John, too, set his glass down and turned to face her. "What if you weren't misunderstanding me?" he finally asked. At her silence, he continued. "I mean, what clued you, the romantic candlelight dinner at my house, all the compliments I throw your way, the fact that I actually sent you a tree, or that I can't go more than two days without seeing you?"

Clementine stared at him.

OMG.

"Clementine, I'm crazy about you. I know we met less than a month ago, and we've only seen each other alone a couple of times, but I really am. And I was hoping you felt the same?" He put a little upward lilt on the end of his sentence so it hung there like a question, and now he did reach out to touch her, lifting a heavy sheaf of her hair over her shoulder so it hung down her back.

Clementine turned to look out at the water.

"Are you going to say something?" John finally asked with a little laugh.

Clementine took a deep breath, and spoke, still facing the ocean. "I really hope this isn't a joke, that you're not playing a joke on me, Johnny."

"No joke, Clementine."

"What about Hy?"

"What about Hy? She's nice, I like her just fine, but not the way I like you." John nudged her shoulder with his own. "What about it, Ms. O'Dell? Is there any possibility you return my feelings?"

He whooshed out a nervous breath, and finally Clementine turned to face him. "What? What's the matter?"

"Well, you don't give a fellow much to work with," he admitted. "I'm nervous, that's what the matter is. I can't read you at all, and this isn't a normal situation for me, Clem." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "Usually I have girls plastered all over me, need a claw hammer to pry them off, if I'm honest." He stroked her hair. "Then along you come, all quiet and reserved, pretty and shy, and I can't tell if I'm getting anywhere."

"John." Clementine put a hand on his forearm where it lay on the railing. "You can't possibly believe that I don't return your feelings, can you? Can you?"

"Let's just say I've felt like I was twisting in the wind a bit," John answered, his voice soft. He was looking at her intently, feeling like he was drowning in her eyes, a slight smile hovering about his mouth.

Clementine was feeling dizzy. Could this really be happening to her?

John moved closer, tracing his fingertips from her shoulder down her arm, making her shiver with pleasure.

"It's been hard not touching you," he admitted. "You have beautiful skin, you know that?"

Clementine, too reached out, stroking the hair next to his temples. It was springy under her hand, the tiny curls bouncing back to where they were as soon as she released them. John closed his eyes and leaned into her hand.

Her touch was so gentle, so soft.

John leaned in toward her mouth, closing his eyes in anticipation, but stopped immediately when he felt her palm on his chest, pressing back slightly.

"What? You don't want to?" He grasped her hand, keeping it where it was.

"No, I do, I just want you to know that—that I've never done this with anyone." Clementine whispered these words, and wouldn't meet his gaze.

John smiled, dimple popping, as he nodded. "I know that," he assured her.

"I mean, I'd love to just grab you and kiss you and totally know what I'm doing, but I don't—"

John laughed. "I hate grabby girls," he said softly. "In fact, they're one of my least favorite things in the world."

"I also talk too much, so I'll just shut up now," she said, shaking her head a little and swallowing, hard.

John laughed again and leaned in once more, grasping her by the elbows.

Clementine slid her hands up to his neck, where she put her arms, hands coming to rest at the nape of his neck.

John reached for her mouth with his own, anticipating how soft it would be, how yielding. He parted his lips a little and went in again and again, pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her back.

Clementine felt like she was dreaming, just floating away, up into the sky. John smelled amazing, and his body was firm and warm, and she was kissing him. She opened her mouth slightly and leaned into him, hoping she was doing it right.

"You know," John murmured between kisses, "for someone who's never done this before, you're pretty fucking good at it."

Clementine smiled into the next kiss, pulling herself into him more firmly.

John could feel Clementine's supple body frankly and completely against his, and feeling her breasts pressing into him was indescribable. He wanted to reach between their bodies and touch them, but worried that this move would be too aggressive. He slid his hand up her back, feeling the fabric of her dress whispering under his palm. He slid his other hand down her side, and found suddenly that he was touching the bare skin of her hip, with the slim band of her underwear riding smoothly over it. His mind provided visuals for what he was feeling, and he couldn't help himself. He reached down and cupped one delectable, round cheek of her bottom, pressing her into his groin in the most delicious way, feeling the lace of her undies under his palm.

And Clem, remembering her exchange with Kim, laughed. She couldn't help it.

John released her, pulling her dress down so she was covered, breaking the kiss and leaning his forehead against hers.

"Are you laughing at me, Clementine O'Dell? Because that's not exactly the response I was hoping for, I'll admit. Is me grabbing your bum that funny?"

Clementine, hearing the word "bum," began to laugh louder. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "It's something my friend said to me, something I said back to her, about my underwear—"

"Wonderful," he responded, laughing a little himself. "Glad to know where your mind is while we're kissing, Clementine."

"Sorry, Johnny, really I am."

John leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. "Because you're so cute, I'll accept your apology." He leaned away from her so he could see her. "And what was this amusing exchange, if I might ask?"

"She told me to wear nice underwear, and I was horrified, I told her there was no way you were getting anywhere near my underwear—" the memory of her words set her off laughing again. "I mean, the idea was so ludicrous, you know? And here you are, hours later, touching my underwear."

"I'm sorry, I know it was too soon," John interjected. "But you're damned near irresistible, Clem, and that's the truth."

"Phht," Clementine scoffed. "I'm standing here kissing a Nigerian-English god incarnate, and I'm irresistible?"

"None of that," John said, his voice becoming stern. "No more disparaging yourself in front of me, Clem, I won't have it."

"My my, we sure are bossy." Clem's tone was merry.

"You have no idea. Now let's go watch a movie or something."

"And kiss some more?"

"Naturally."