Page 48 of Strictly the Worst

“Wet.”

As soon as I say it I’m wondering if she is. Fuck, I want to touch her. She’s still looking up at me goofily.

“Tessa,” I say.

“Carmichael,” she corrects me.

“Whatever. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Do you feel sick? Dizzy?”

“Because I’m talking to you about sex?” she asks.

I mean, yeah. “I’m just worried that somebody might have spiked your drink.”

“You got me the drink. You’re the only one who could have spiked it.” She looks up at me. “Did you spike it?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’d never spike your drink.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” She rests her head against my chest. “I’m not drunk, I’m just…”

I hold my breath as I wait for her to tell me what she is. But then there’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn my head and Tessa looks up.

Fucking Maya.

I almost groan, because I’m desperate to hear what Tessa thinks.

“Can I steal him off you?” Maya asks. “For one dance.”

Tessa steps back, and I immediately miss the feel of her body against mine.

“Have at him,” she mutters.

“Actually,” I say to Maya, “we were busy.”

“No, honestly.” Tessa smiles at Maya, though I notice it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Go ahead. I’m going to grab some water.”

Before I can say anything else, she’s weaving through all the bodies undulating on the sand.

“I love this song,” Maya says, grabbing my now free hand.

But I shake it off. Because no, Tessa’s not getting away from me just when we were finally getting real.

I want to know how she feels. I want to fucking kiss her.

I want to find out if she’s as turned on as I am from dancing together.

“Sorry,” I say to Maya. “Got things to do. Have a good evening.”

And then I’m pushing my way through the crowds.

TESSA

I hear him calling my name as I stride along the beach, but I don’t slow my pace. He catches up to me within thirty seconds though, reaching for my hand.

I let him take it.

“Where are you going?” he asks, sounding confused. He’s matching my pace easily, the sound of the music and the people becoming more distant with every step.

“Back to the cottage,” I say. “I’m tired.”

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