Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
Delilah couldn’t sleep that night, not until the wee hours. She was too full of feeling. The movie was saved! By her! She was still going to be Tamsin Rowe! But she was still terrible at tennis! She still might fail!
It was a relief to drift off. At first. Then the dream started.
Cassie was there. At first, they were just talking, like they always did. A bit sharp, a bit sarcastic, a bit them. But then something shifted. Cassie reached out and touched her cheek, and everything inside Delilah lit up like a switch had been thrown.
They kissed, and it didn’t feel like a dream. Cassie’s mouth, her hands, the sound of her breath against Delilah’s skin—it all felt real.
Delilah woke with a gasp, twisted in the sheets, skin damp, heart galloping.
It took a moment to remember where she was. Her flat. Her bed. Alone. But not untouched.
Her hand had already moved between her legs instinctively, as if her body had kept going without her permission.
She froze for a moment, as if caught, even though no one was there. Then she closed her eyes and let herself feel it.
It was just hormones. It wasn’t about Cassie. Not really. It was just every single thing that made her up. Her face, her voice, her mouth, the dark braid trailing down her back, those arms…
Delilah arrived with thunderous force. A truly shocking bodily reaction.
Delilah turned over and dragged the pillow over her face, groaning softly into it.
What the hell was happening?