Page 33 of The Worst Guy Ever
“But best of all—” He reaches underneath the hem of my skirt and cups me hard. The nerve of it breaks me apart and my head falls against his chest with a heavy sob. He must feel the heat of me in his palm. Can he feel how turned I am on by the way he speaks to me? Who am I kidding? I’ve been soaked since the moment we walked into the restaurant. It’s always like this with him.
“My God, this perfect pussy,” he whispers into my hair, his other arm cupping the back of my head, keeping me pinned in place. “I want to fuck you until you can’t bear to live without me. Until you wake up feeling empty and aching until I fuck you again.”
Jesus, fuck.How does he do this to me? How does he make me feel like he is exactly what I’m missing?
“You’re wasted,” I whimper.
“Nope,” he says, straightening up. He releases me from his hold and takes a step back. “These are non-alcoholic.”
He’s saying this shit sober?
His words hang in the air between us, and he waits. I don’t know what his game is. If he touched me now, properly, I’d be helpless to stop him, but with inches between us it’s my move to make. Part of me wants to turn around, lift my dress and let him fuck me into the wall right here, but I can’t do this. Can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much I want him, even though every wall I’ve built is crumbling so fast I feel like dust myself. I swallow hard, tug the top of my dress back up, and run.
I need to get off this fucking boat.
Chapter 13
Rob
HattieandIhavedone a stellar job of keeping things friendly this past month, our communication strictly limited to plans for today. I’ve missed her like crazy, though. Her sass, her smile, her sexy curves. They’re still the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing on my mind when I fall asleep.
And I’ve tried so hard to be good today. I made sure we sat apart at lunch, and I vowed to stick to low alcohol drinks until we’re all safely home, drama free. I’ve kept my distance and let her do her own thing, but when I saw her flirting with that waiter, all hell broke loose in my brain.
That and the pink dress that’s been taunting me all day. The way the skirt tickles the backs of her thighs, the way the strapless top part just begs to be yanked down. It’s criminal. I didn’t mean to confess all the filthy ways I’ve thought about her, it just came out. Everything about her makes me act first, think later.
I don’t want to fight anymore. I should follow her, apologise for overstepping, make all of this go away, but I don’t know how. Nothing I say will make a difference. She’s drunk, and angry, and probably hates me more than ever now. Despite what my brain says, my feet lead the way.
Pushing through the double doors, I climb back up to the deck and look amongst the guests, but there’s no sign of her.
“Megs,” I cup her elbow and gently pull her away from her conversation with Kara’s parents. “Have you seen Hattie?”
She shakes her head and turns away. There’s only so many places you can go on a boat this size. Where the hell is she? Leaning over the barrier, I spot her near the rear of the boat, arguing with one of the crewmembers.
“Please? Can’t you steer a little closer and let me off?”She’s leaving?We still have another hour to go. Well, of course she’s not leaving. You don’t just get off a boat when you decide you’ve had enough. I make for the stairs, ready to diffuse the situation, but she screams when she spots me heading towards them.
“Fine!” she shouts, slipping her heels off and hurling them over the railing. They sail through the air, landing on the grassy riverbank, and her clutch bag soon follows.
“Please, Miss, you can’t do that,” the young guy panics. He reaches for her elbow but she wrenches it away, climbs up the railings and leaps into the water.
All hell breaks loose as he shouts into his radio, staff come running, and my hands meet the edge of the railing just in time to see her head breach the surface.
“Fucking Christ,” she shrieks, shaking her head and gulping down air.
Seconds later, my feet hit the water too. I plunge into the murky depths, my ears filling with water, the world turning to treacle until I push up and swim to the surface.
“Are you OK?” voices call from behind me and I breathe hard, my chest tight from the shock drop in temperature. Turning circles in the water, I spot Hattie already halfway to the riverbank.
“We can’t stop here,” the crewman shouts at me through a loudspeaker. “Too busy. We’ll pull in up ahead.”
“We’re fine, carry on without us,” I yell back, then take a deep breath, duck my head and swim after her. We are so far from fine, it’s not even funny.
“Are you crazy?” she shouts, her hands scrambling for purchase as she reaches the bank of the river and attempts to pull herself up.
“Areyou?” I scream back. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“Get away from me.”
We’ve drawn a crowd, not difficult when you’ve thrown yourself into the river after a madwoman on a stretch that borders a sunny pub garden. Two men rush down to the edge and scramble to pull her up.
