“You have far too many clothes on.” She started to unbutton his shirt, but his hands closed over hers.
“No.” His voice was roughened. “Not now. Not like this.”
“You prefer to go back to the pub?” She wasn’t sure she could make it that far. Her whole body was alive and on fire. She was pretty sure his was, too. “Is it the sand?”
“No, it’s being in a public place. I’d rather not be arrested. I’d never hear the last of it. And also having sex with a woman who has had three large glasses of wine and feeling the effects would be a first for me, and it isn’t happening.”
“You think I’m feeling the effects?”
“Could you stand up if I wasn’t holding you?”
“Let’s find out—” She eased away from him and swayed a little. “That’s because I’m being blown by the breeze.”
“There is no breeze. It’s a still night.”
It certainly wasn’t still inside her head. It felt as if there was a party going on. Every brain cell was dancing.
“Maybe a swim would sober me up.”
“I think it’s more likely that you’d drown.”
The world was going in and out of focus. “I’m a good swimmer. When I do something, I do it really well.”
“I can believe that.” He sighed. “You should get dressed, before we both do something really well and then regret it afterwards.” Jaw clenched, he retrieved her shirt and helped her to put it back on, his movements unsteady and uncoordinated.
She’d imagined him undressing her, not dressing her. She’d imagined his hands on her skin, stroking and seeking, not fumbling with buttons.
She couldn’t understand why he was rejecting her but it all felt frustrating and unfair.
“I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“Yeah, right, well we can talk about that another time.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a very controlled person. And careful about my choices.” She peered at him. “You look tense. Are you tense?”
“Could you button your shirt please?”
She frowned. “Why? Is that another of your tests? If I can stand on one leg, close one eye and button my shirt I’m sober enough for you to have sex with me?”
“No test. I think it would be a good idea, that’s all.” With a rough curse he reached out and buttoned her shirt himself and when he’d finished he snatched his hands away as if he’d scalded the tips of his fingers.
She was hurt and a little humiliated and even the wine couldn’t entirely numb those feelings.
“Okay, I get it. You don’t want me. But I’m not ready to go back yet. It’s beautiful out here. You go if you like. I want to stay here for a while.” She stared out at the inky blackness of the ocean. “It’s beautiful. Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Yes, it’s a picture. I think we should go back now.”
“Why?”
“I think maybe you should go to bed and prepare yourself for your first hangover.” He gave a faint smile. “It’s not going to be pretty.”
“I don’t care. That’s future me’s problem.”
“Future you had better have strong painkillers ready for the morning.”
The morning. A new day. “What time is it in Boston?”
“Now? I have no idea. Why?”
