I test that theory when I finally manage to stand without worrying I’ll topple over, and stretch my arms up. Yep, definitely all over.

  My lips feel swollen, still buzzing from kissing him. And boy can he kiss. I smile to myself at the memory. I have never acted like that with anyone and I‘m not sure where it came from.

  Now I don’t have alcohol boosting my confidence, it feels weird, but nonetheless meaningful. It was still the best night I could ever have wished for. Tears gather in my eyes as I think of my mum’s words that night. She was right. About it all. Scott tarnished what I felt for him. He took so much from me, and he did it without care or remorse. She was right when she told me what it should have been like.

  And last night… it was all that and more.

  My thighs clench together when I think about what he did with his tongue; what I begged him to do— loudly.

  My gaze runs over the bed. The sheets are still rumpled from last night’s activities, and Drew is nowhere to be seen. I’m not going to lie, it hurts that he isn’t here, even if some of the night is a blur.

  Maybe I did push him into it.

  Tears spill down my cheeks as I reach for my dress near the end of the bed, before pulling it on and zipping it. I sniffle, searching for my knickers, looking everywhere and not spotting them until I bend down to look under the bed.

  Just as the door opens.

  I freeze, my fingers on the thin scrap of material.

  “Fuck!” Drew growls, and I know he’s seeing everything.

  And I mean everything.

  I close my eyes, inwardly groaning. He’s probably scared I’m throwing myself at him again. And if he didn’t think it before, he most certainly does now.

  “I can’t have any more sex,” I blurt out, getting to my feet as I dry my cheeks. I trip when trying to get my foot into the knickers and groan when I fall onto the bed. “My vagina is really sore right now. If it could speak, it would weep. With tears of joy, or tears of fear, I don’t know. But it would weep. But not like I’ve got a transmitted disease, weep.”

  He rears back, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline. “I was going to remind you that before we left last night you accepted breakfast with my family, so I wanted to give you these,” he explains, handing me a bag. “It’s some fresh clothes and toiletries.”

  My shoulders sag. I forgot about the invitation Eloise extended to Drew. When his mum overheard, she demanded his attendance and I agreed, even though it wasn’t extended to me. “I’m sorry.”

  He tenses, gazing right into my soul. “Why would you be sorry?”

  I drop the bag onto the bed next to me. “I threw myself at you and you were probably scared. I can be a little much when I’m drunk—” He chuckles, and I pause, butt-hurt he’d make fun of this. It’s serious. “This isn’t funny,” I whisper.

  He steps forward, sliding my hair over my shoulder. “No, it’s not. What it was, was a fantastic fucking night. You didn’t force me into anything, I swear it to you,” he tells me, before pausing, his gaze running over my face. “Are you okay? I know you had a drink and I—”

  My cheeks burn as I say, “It was better than I ever imagined.”

  “You imagined it?”

  I shove his chest lightly. “You know what I mean.”

  “Seriously though, are you okay?”

  I nod and busy myself looking anywhere but at him. “I really am.”

  “Good,” he murmurs. “Go get showered. I said we’d be down there in twenty.”

  My eyes widen. “Crap.”

  I race to the bathroom but then double back, snatching the bag off the bed. “You could have said that before.”

  He chuckles, and I feel him watching my arse as I run back to the bathroom. “What fun would that have been?”

  I snort, closing the door behind me before taking a breather.

  I had sex.

  Really great sex.

  A massive grin spreads across my face and a giddy feeling swirls in the pit of my stomach. Sex had been something I couldn’t wait to experience from the time I really understood what it meant. Romance books made it sound easy, pleasurable, and then Scott happened. With Drew, it was like he sparked my soul. Last night was what I had always dreamed about, what it should have always been.

  Now I know what a loving touch feels like, I’ll never make the same mistake again.

  I’m not even troubled over the fact it was potentially a one-night stand. If anything, it only heightens the experience, makes it more memorable for me. Without Drew, without the connection I felt with him last night, Scott might have been the only touch I knew or remembered, so I’ll always be grateful to him.

  So will my vagina.

  *** *** ***

  To keep up pretences, Drew holds my hand as we head into the large dining room. This isn’t the same room we were in last night, but it’s just as big. And instead of purples and blues, it’s neutral, white and beige.

  As we reach the table where his immediate family are, my fingers clench around his hand and I come to a stop.

  Oh no.

  Oh, no, no, no.

  He stops when our linked hands pull taut and turns back to me, his eyebrow raised. “Everything okay?”

  I shake my head. “It’s really not.”

  His forehead creases with worry. “What’s wrong?”

  I draw closer to him, leaning in. “We played a trick on your mum last night.”

  Realisation dawns on his expression before he bursts out laughing. “I completely forgot about it.”

  “Did you see her this morning?”

  “No, only my step-dad, who messaged me.”

  “So, you don’t even know if she knows it was us,” I ramble. “She already hates me.”

  “Don’t get yourself worked up. She treated you like shit last night. She deserved everything we did.”

  I whimper. “What I did.”

  He continues to laugh. “Stop worrying.”

  I can’t help it. My heart is already pounding. I’ll never understand why I get like that when I’ve had a drink. My dad blames the red in my hair, and my mum blames it on the fact I’m a Carter.

  “I’m never drinking again,” I complain.

  His lips twitch. “Charlotte.”

  “No, that’s a lie. I’ll definitely drink again but I’ll limit myself.”

  “Charlotte—”

  “Okay, that was a lie too,” I groan. “Once I’ve had one, I always want another, especially if it’s a fruity drink.”

  “Charlotte, there’s someone behind you who wants to get past,” Drew blurts out, his lips struggling to stay firm.

  I squeal, picturing every horror movie I have ever seen and spin around, clipping the tray the guy is holding in the process. Hot tea spills all down his shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

  Drew pulls me back when I go to help. The waiter looks annoyed, but not angry. “It’s fine. Why don’t you take a seat and move out of the way?”

  I nod, thinking that’s a perfect idea. “I really am sorry.”

  Drew’s body shakes beside me. “You continue to surprise me.”

  His family spot us, but it’s his mother I can’t look away from, her expression pinched, displeased. “Good of you two to join us.”

  “Mother, you’re looking a little tired. Not much sleep?” Drew comments as he pulls the chair out for me.

  I whimper when I take a seat, Drew following and taking the one beside me. I glance at his mum. She does look really tired. Drew’s step-dad sighs. “Please don’t get her started again.”

  “Started again?” Grace squeals. “There was a dead body in our bed, Wesley. A body.”

  “It wasn’t real, just as the manager confirmed. And the police.”

  His mum turns to her son. “This hotel will not be getting a tip from us.”

  “What happened?”

  “We aren’t exactly sure,” Wesley replies.

  His mother has no qualms about answering. “I’ll tell you what happened. This place is haunted, or they hire lowlife’s to make the beds. I nearly had a heart attack when I walked into our suite.”

  “Because of the body?” Drew asks, and I feel more than see him struggling not to laugh.

  I inwardly groan, wishing he’d drop the conversation. I already feel bad enough. Or at least, a tiny bit.

  A waiter pours me a glass of orange juice and I swear I whimper at the sight of the yummy goodness.

  “No, because the pictures were all over the place. The place was haunted, son. Haunted. Can you believe that?”

  “Not really, no,” he replies, making me choke on the juice I had just taken a sip of.

  Grace’s eyebrows shoot up. “It is. And that is not even the worse of what happened.”

  “Is this about the dead body now?”

  “No. Whoever they let into our room, stole our champagne. A nine-hundred-pound bottle.”

  I gape, my eyes watering. Who pays that for a bottle of champagne? It was good, but not that good.

  “Grace, let’s not bore them with the details,” Wesley orders.

  “Bore them? Bore them?” She screeches. “I nearly died, Wesley.”

  “Died?” I ask, speaking up for the first time.

  Her lip curls at the sound of my voice, but she answers anyway. “My heart stopped when I saw the body. It took the paramedics to bring me back.”

  “No, she didn’t,” Wesley comments, letting out an exasperated sigh. “She just had a scare and it brought on a panic attack of sorts.”

  I whimper, tears gathering in my eyes. “That is awful. Who would do such a thing? I’m so sorry this has happened to you. Are you okay?”

  Drew ducks his head, his shoulders shaking as he silently laughs. “Who would do such a thing?”

  My cheeks heat when the answer hits me. “Oh no,” I whisper before kicking him under the table. I completely forgot for a moment. His amusement is not helping. “Grace, I’m so sorry you had a bad experience. Is there anything we can do?”

  She’s taken off guard by my kindness. I can see it in the way she watches me warily.

  It’s Wesley who answers. “She’s being overdramatic. It was a bunch of pillows wrapped in a spare bedsheet.”

  Grace’s jaw tightens and her hand flies to her chest. “It took years off my life. I thought someone was well and truly dead in our bed, Wesley. How can you not care about that, or about the stress it caused me? I was scared to death. This hotel has a lot to answer for.”

  My shoulders shake as I duck my head, covering up the tears that are flowing down my cheeks. I hadn’t meant for her to react so badly or be that scared. I don’t know what I was thinking.

  And she nearly died.

  “Sweetie, are you okay?” Wesley asks and I look up, wiping away the tears as I struggle to hold back my sobs.

  When I notice his question is being addressed to me, my breath hitches. “I’m just so sorry that happened to you.”

  “Are you making fun of my mother?” Natalie snidely demands, speaking up for the first time.

  I sniffle. “No, I’m really not.”

  Drew wraps his arm around the back of my chair, rubbing my shoulder blades. I freeze, visions of his teeth nipping me there clouding my mind.

  He pumps hard inside of me, his teeth grazing my shoulder. “You want it harder?”

  “Charlotte,” he calls out, shaking me from my thoughts and the dirty things he did to me after I said yes.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “You okay?” he asks, searching my gaze.

  I nod. “Yeah,” I lie, then lean in close to him. “She’s really going to hate me if she finds out.”

  “She won’t,” he whispers back. “It was just a little fun.”

  For the rest of the breakfast, I stay silent yet watchful, making sure my actions haven’t completely traumatised his mother. Pranks aren’t for everyone.

  By the time breakfast has finished, the manager has come over and assured us our breakfast isn’t being charged to our rooms, which is a good thing since the prices are extremely high. I could go shopping for a week’s worth of food for the amount they charge for a full English breakfast.

  When it’s time to leave, it’s only Wesley, Alison and her fiancé who offer me a goodbye. I don’t take it to heart. I’m used to this kind of treatment.

  We’re nearly back at my place, and the closer we get, the sicker I feel. There’s a heavy pit in my stomach and it rolls, the unease eating away at me.

  Neither of us have brought up what happened last night, not what it meant or what it meant between us. It’s the elephant in the car that no one wants stamping all over them.

  I don’t think I’ll be able to give him answers, even if he does question me. I’m not sure what it meant, I only know what it meant to me, and that was a great deal. He gave me something I never thought I’d get. But I’m not sure where we stand now and that kind of scares me. I like him. I like him a lot. I love our sessions, even if we have only had two, and I love talking to him. For someone larger than life, and for someone so young, he’s quite perceptive and has a lot of things to say. Things I enjoy hearing.

  After pulling into my road, he drives up to my house and parks on the drive. He switches off the car and I nervously fiddle with the handles of the bag. “Thank you for such a great night,” I announce.

  His pupils dilate and his eyes darken, smouldering with that intense burn. “It should be me thanking you.” He pauses, his lips parting as if he wants to continue, but then decides not to.

  My shoulders slump. He isn’t going to bring it up and I don’t have the courage. Or maybe I just don’t want to hear the answer.

  I unclip my belt before pushing the door open. I slide my legs out before stopping, turning back to him. “Can I ask you something?”

  Interest piqued, he nods. “Anything.”

  “Last night…” I close my eyes, and then shake the dark thoughts threatening to loom over me. When I open them, his expression is still as intense as ever and a shiver races down my spine.

  “What about last night?”

  “Can I count that as my first time?” I whisper, my fingers tightening around the handle of the bag.

  The look he gives me has my clit pulsing and my heart racing.

  “Of course,” he hoarsely replies.

  I lean over the handbrake and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. And for last night. See you soon, Drew.”

  “You too,” he whispers as I get out, slamming the door behind me. I watch him drive away before heading inside, a big smile on my face.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHARLOTTE

  Fingers tighten around my wrists, pinning them above my head as he pumps inside of me.

  The sound of our skin slapping together, our heavy breathing, and the moans and groans… it’s thrilling.

  “Harder,” I beg, sliding my fingers down his broad, muscled back.

  His lips, feather light, press against the sensitive area on my neck, and an electrical pulse runs over my body.

  “Earth to Charlotte,” Rose says, clicking her fingers in my face.

  My cheeks immediately heat as I pull myself out of my mind and the dirty images that have been filtering through since Drew dropped me off yesterday morning.

  “Sorry,” I reply absently, my thoughts drifting back to the night in question once more. I was bent over the end of the bed, and Drew’s fingers were digging into my hips while he powered inside of me.

  I think I whimper.

  “Are you okay?”

  I blink, reaching for the coffee mug to distract me, and grimace. “I’m sorry, Rose. I didn’t get much sleep last night. It’s good to see you.”

  And I didn’t sleep much. Because I was too busy researching sexual positions to see which ones we hadn’t done. I fell asleep with a list in one hand and a book in the other. But I wanted to know if Drew was right and that I’d never say, ‘I’ve never done that before’ again. He was right and wrong. The positions left were a little unorthodox but I couldn’t deny I was curious to see if it was possible to do them. And then there’s the argument about location.

  Rose pulls a chair out across from me before taking a seat. “It’s good to see you. How have you been?”

  “I’m doing okay.”

  “I heard something happened between you and your ex. Was his name Scott?”

  My breath hitches at hearing his name. “Who told you about Scott?”

  “I overheard the receptionist and another woman.”

  I blanch at that, uncomfortable with members of staff talking about me, especially with the thought of them talking to a family member of mine. I don’t want people knowing.

  “He wasn’t who I thought he was,” I admit.

  “They never are.”

  I force out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess.”

  I don’t think that. With Drew, he is who he is and he gives no fudges. It’s one of the things I like about him. He doesn’t pretend to be anyone other than who he is.

  “You don’t have to talk about it with me but I am here if you need to. Sometimes speaking to someone who isn’t family does the world of good. I mean, it must not be good to have family members judging you, or have that feeling that you’ve disappointed them.”

  Her words hit close to home. I don’t think my family are judging me per se. I know they love me too much and they care. But sometimes when one would say, they knew he was wrong for me, or that I have changed, I do feel judged. Their words do impact me and make me feel low.

  I duck my head because I do feel like I’ve disappointed them. It’s like she’s pushed herself into my thoughts and read my insecurities out loud.

  “He hurt me,” I admit on a whisper.

  “Did that fucker cheat?”

  I snort, because it wasn’t me he cheated on, it was his wife. “It wasn’t me he was cheating on, it was his poor wife. I didn’t even know until the night I slept with him for the first time.”

  Her eyes widen. “You are shitting me. What a fucking arsehole. What did the wife say?” she rants. “And at least it wasn’t your virginity. How fucking shitty would that be, having a guy do that to you? I mean, how would you be able to move on and trust after that? And his wife, I wonder how she is.” When I don’t say anything, her eyebrows shoot up. “You were a virgin?”