Page 44 of Strictly the Worst

Okay, so she’s grumpy, too. This is delicious.

“Just admiring your bed head,” I tell her and she groans again, reaching up to touch her long, thick locks.

Her eyes spring open, and this time they stay open. “What time is it?” she asks.

“Ten.”

She sits up so fast my eyes can’t keep up. “You’re kidding.”

“Yes, I am. It’s seven.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Thank you.” I smile at her. “You slept well, by the way.”

“So did you. For once.”

“What does that mean?” I ask. Because I’m pretty sure I didn’t tell her about my nightmares.

“Nothing. Just that when I woke in the middle of the night you were snoring like a baby.”

I sit up too, running my hands through my hair. “Well I guess this bed is good for both of us.”

“So it seems.”

“Want to sleep with me again tonight?” I ask, wiggling my brows. She laughs and it warms me.

“Yeah, sure.” She shimmies to the side of the bed and climbs out, treating me to a delicious view of her ass. Christ, it’s perfect. Round and full, but with a lift to it. No wonder my dick liked it so much.

“Salinger?”

“Yeah?” I clear my throat and drag my gaze away from her backside up to her turned face.

“Thanks for being so sweet last night.”

I smile and she smiles back at me. “You’re welcome.”

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

TESSA

“You slept with him?” Angela’s voice rises an octave. “Oh my God, girl, I’m so proud of you.”

“Not like that,” I point out, trying not to laugh at her over-the-top reaction. “We didn’t do anything that wasn’t PG.”

“You spooned.”

Okay, so there was a little spooning. And yeah, I’m almost certain that I felt some… enthusiasm… poking into my ass this morning. But I’m almost certain it was a physiological reaction and nothing to do with me.

“It was just a friendly thing,” I tell her. “He keeps waking up all twisted and achy. The bed is huge. Like double the size of my one at home. It felt wrong not to offer to share.”

“Sure it did.” Amusement still tinges her voice. “So are you going to do it again tonight?”

I let out a long breath. We have two days until the presentation and then we fly home. I’m almost certain that this… detente, or whatever you want to call it between me and Linc, will be long forgotten by the time we touch down on the tarmac at JFK. Yes, we get along well here, but our lives are so different.

And now I’m starting to get homesick for Zoe. I let out a long breath. “Probably,” I say. “But not the way you’re thinking.”

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