Page 43 of Strictly the Worst

“Not cooking,” I agree.

“Jesus, Tessa. I think you just won the game. What did you do after that?”

“I snuck out. Slept in the summerhouse in our backyard. Then pretended to come home the next morning.”

“Nobody noticed you were there?”

“No, I don’t think so. At least I hope not.” I wrinkle my nose. “And I never mentioned it to my parents.”

“So they don’t know you know?” he asks.

“No. But I’ve never looked at them the same again.”

“I bet.”

“So I guess that’s why I was a bit uptight when you mentioned threesomes. I just…” I shake my head. “I want to be a good parent for Zoe.”

“You’re a great parent. Anybody can see that.”

I give him the smallest of smiles.

“Carmichael?” he says. And I relax, because we’re back to Carmichael and Salinger. I can deal with that.

“Yes?”

“You want a hug?”

I open my mouth to say no, but then I realize that I really do want one.

I think I need one.

I nod. “Yes please.”

And it turns out that as well as being sweet talking, successful, and annoyingly good looking, Linc Salinger also gives the best hugs.

Go figure.

LINC

I wake up in the morning with a hard on that’s precariously close to Carmichael’s ass. Okay, it’s touching it. So I shimmy back because if there’s one thing she doesn’t need it’s the dirtiest part of me touching her the morning after she pretty much bared her soul to me.

Truth is, I found it difficult to go to sleep after her confession. I felt bad that I’d pretty much wrenched it out of her. And felt even worse that once I pulled her into my arms all I could think about was kissing her.

Inappropriate much?

Absolutely.

Did I want to do it anyway?

Absolutely.

Weirdly enough, she passed out about five minutes after I pulled her into my arms. And when I finally drifted off, about an hour later, I actually slept better than I have in a while, too.

And now I get to watch Carmichael wake up.

She does it in fits and starts. First of all she groans and stretches her arms, then kind of folds in on herself. Then she groans again and opens one eye, before closing it like she doesn’t like what she sees.

“Are you staring at me?” she asks.

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