Page 33 of Strictly the Worst

“Better than looking like my skin has turned to leather,” she tells me. “You’re gonna regret not using more when you’re looking like Yoda when you’re forty.”

I start to laugh. “You think I’m gonna look like Yoda?”

She shrugs, sliding her palms down her thighs. I’m entranced by her movements. I can see the way her skin undulates beneath her touch.

“If the cap fits.”

I tip my head to the side, watching as she finishes applying it. “Okay then, if you’re so worried, put some on me.”

“What?” The corner of her lip quirks up as she looks at me.

“Lotion me up,” I tell her turning around so I’m facing her.

“Lotion yourself up.”

“But you do it so much better.” And yes, I want her to touch me. Her eyes catch mine and she narrows them, as though trying to decide whether she’ll win this little battle by saying no or saying yes.

“Lay back.”

I’m trying not to grin as I do as she’s told. Her shadow passes over me as she stands and before I can say another word a dollop of lotion falls on my chest.

Followed by her soft hands.

I didn’t think this through at all. Because she’s rubbing her fingers all over my skin. Starting on my shoulders, making her way to my pectorals.

Her fingertips brush my nipples and I have to bite my tongue not to let out a groan.

I’m tense as fuck as she puts another glob of lotion on my stomach, rubbing it in gently. Her fingertips brushing the waistline of my shorts.

“Do my back,” I grunt out, turning over onto my front before she can see that I’m getting turned on.

“You’ll rub off the lotion,” she says. “You’re supposed to let it sink in before you touch the towel.”

“It’s fine,” I say tightly, as she slowly starts to massage the lotion into my back. If I thought I was hard before, I’m fucking painful now. I start to think of everything unsexy. The dollar rate against the euro. The way Roman always picks his teeth after he’s eaten steak.

The way my brothers threw me in the lake a few years ago before it had had a chance to heat up and I started worrying my balls would never drop again.

Thankfully I get myself under control before she reaches my calves. I let out a low breath.

“Your girlfriend’s here,” she says, her voice low.

“What?” I look up to see Maya walking along the beach, in another bikini – this one white and, if possible, tinier than the last one. A cabana attendant follows quickly behind her, carrying towels, a bottle of water, and her beach bag.

I sit up and shoot Carmichael a dirty glance. “Not my girlfriend,” I murmur.

“Sure.” She smiles at me, like she knows the effect she just had on me. “Whatever you say.

“I’d like this one,” Maya says when she reaches us, pointing to the cabana next to ours. “Oh, hello Linc.” She smiles at me, completely ignoring Tessa.

“Hi.” I nod.

“Are you going to the dance party tomorrow night?” she asks. “We have to have a boring dinner with one of David’s clients first. But after that, I’m letting my hair down.”

“Dance party?” I ask, trying to buy time. I’m so aware of Carmichael watching us. And I can still feel the way her hands felt on me.

I want to feel them again. Shit.

“At The Shack,” Maya says. “The next beach down. They have a dance party every week. There are prizes for the best dancer,” she says.

---