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“You can’t fool me. I saw you enjoying my playlist. Come on, time to dance!” Taking my hands, she leads me onto the dance floor, hips swaying, breasts heaving, face glowing.

It’s a long time since I’ve partied like this, but now that it’s happening, I realise how much I need it. To let loose. Relax and have fun.

The B-52s give way to Adam Ant, who gives way to the Bee Gees. The beats are fast, the melodies hypnotic.

We’re dancing and sweating and laughing and knocking back more shots as the crowd thins. I’m almost breathless when Donna Summer’s hot caramel voice croons about how she feels love. It’s erotic. Sinuous. Irresistible. I don’t know who makes the move. Suddenly Louise and I are pressed together, linked hands raised above our heads. Hips swaying. Gazes locked.

There’s nothing but my blood pumping in time with the beat. Louise, soft and warm, moving against me. Every inch of my skin shivers with the need to be closer, to absorb her into my body. To be absorbed by hers.

Liquid heat floods my veins, swelling my cock and making it impossible to think.

Fingers trail over exposed flesh, raising goosebumps. Lips brush. Cling. Part on an indrawn breath.

Everything disappears.

Until someone yells “Get a room,” and I realise they’re yelling at us.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Louise

There’s a disco in my head. Complete with a flashing mirror ball. And, weirdly, a heavy, molten rope tied around my chest.

Wait. No. I open one eye and squint. Not a rope. An arm. A very fine, very naked arm. One I recognise.

I freeze.

What the hell have we done?

Last I remember, Jasper and I were dirty dancing to Donna Summer. I was seconds away from combusting right there on the dance floor. Then … nothing.

Not a damn thing.

But based on the limited evidence of one squinty eye, we took the dancing out of dirty.

A vague recollection of someone shouting at us to get a room surfaces. Disjointed images and sensations flash. The silky texture of short curls under my fingers. The slow glide of a zipper down my back, all the way to the top of my arse. The tug of a mouth on my nipple.

Oh, dear God.

Never mind the sensations from last night. It’s this morning’s sensations I should be worrying about.

Because there’s a naked penis pressed against my arse cheek. A large, hard, naked penis. And without any more encouragement than that, heat gathers between my legs.

I’m not game to move a muscle, but my mind jumps around like a squirrel with a caffeine addiction.

Colin is never going to let me forget this.

Lil is going to demand details I can’t even remember. Which is unfortunate, because based on what’s pressed against me, and the aches and pains that I’m beginning to become aware of, I suspect the details would be exceptional.

Ant is going to laugh his head off.

Most unhelpfully, I wonder if I still have my friend Alison’s number. Because I really want to brag to her about this. Even if it is over ten years late.

None of that matters, though, because I’m going to die of embarrassment. Who has sex and can’t remember? Me. That would be me.

“You’re doing it again,” Jasper rasps, his lips pressed against the back of my neck.

“Doing what?” A question my mind helpfully makes suggestions for. X-rated suggestions.