Page 5 of Take the Lead

I t feels like someone is hammering nails straight into my skull when my alarm goes off the next morning.

A hazy memory of the previous evening claws its way to the surface.

Was there a fourth bottle of wine after the first three?

Did we remember to eat anything? I did say no to Warren, didn’t I?

I fling my arm across the other half of the bed and am relieved to find it empty.

That’s a complication I could do without.

I sit up, then promptly lie back down again. How the hell am I going to get through today feeling like this? I’m not sure I can even make it out of my bedroom.

Spurred on by thoughts of Merle, I drag myself in the direction of the kitchen. When she hears me moving, Lucy comes bounding out of her room with the biggest grin on her face. I hold my hands up.

‘Stop moving so much,’ I plead. ‘It’s making me queasy.’

She takes the kettle from me and points me towards the table, where I flop into a chair.

‘Why do you look so … so normal? I feel terrible!’ I wail.

‘Aiden and I went for pizza after the pub, to soak up some of the booze. Then we snogged on the doorstep for about an hour, like sixteen-year-olds. And then he asked if he could take me out on a proper date this evening. How cute is that?’

I’m thrilled for her and want to find out more, if only I could stop my head throbbing. I can’t believe I got so carried away at the pub – I’m such an idiot.

Lucy puts a steaming cup of coffee in front of me and follows it with Marmite on toast, and gradually the world starts to feel less wobbly.

A blast of ice-cold water in the shower goes some way towards clearing my brain fog and two more slices of toast help my stomach settle down.

By the time I leave the flat I’m still far from top form, but I’m at least a paler shade of green.

I arrive at the studio before Merle, which is a relief because it gives me more time to compose myself.

While I’m waiting for him, I catch up with the messages on the “Fire Dancers” WhatsApp chat that I set up with Liam, Tammy and another of the contestants, Beth, on the last day of pre-show training.

By then we’d got into the habit of having lunch together every day, so when it was time to go off for our individual classes we promised to post regular updates.

‘ How’s everyone’s first week going? ’ Beth has asked.

‘ Hard work ,’ is the reply from Liam. ‘ I probably should have spent less time at the pub over the weekend. ’

A sentiment I currently identify with all too well.

‘ I’ve never sweated so much in my life. ’ This is from Tammy. ‘ And I’ve got muscle aches in places I didn’t even know I had muscles. I’m progressing much quicker than I did in the group classes, though. ’

‘ Yeah, I’m learning loads. My teacher is so nice ,’ Beth has written. ‘ Is everyone happy with their first dance? ’

When we finished the pre-show practice, we were each given a sealed envelope containing details of our first dance, the name of our instructor and how to find our individual studio.

We were asked not to share this information with anyone before the live show, but we were all in agreement that the Argentine tango is the dance none of us wants in week one – it’s by far the hardest.

‘ It’s not the tango ,’ is Liam’s response, followed by a ‘ ditto ’ from Tammy.

‘ No tango for me either ,’ I type. ‘ Thankfully! I’ve made a bit of headway this week – I think. But I’m still no Emilia. ’

‘ I think that goes for all of us ,’ Tammy replies. ‘ We all know she’s going to kill it on Saturday. I’ve been stalking her on Instagram – is that bad? I don’t think she’ll notice though, she’s got about five thousand followers. ’

‘ Five thousand? ’ I repeat. That makes my ninety-four look feeble.

‘ I guess that’s what you get when you add a new picture every fifteen minutes, ’ Tammy writes. ‘ Really, though, I don’t care how amazing she is on Saturday. I just don’t want it to be one of us who’s eliminated. I know it’s mean, but can it just be Dean or Theo please? ’

‘ I don’t think they’d be too happy ,’ Liam chips in. ‘ I saw them together on the last day of training. I think they might have secretly got together. ’

‘ What! Why didn’t you say?!!! ’ Tammy writes. ‘ That’s a brilliant bit of gossip. The first FOTDF romance. I wonder if there’ll be any more. ’

‘ Not for me ,’ Beth says, before I have a chance to say anything about Merle. She’s been with her boyfriend for two years and is desperate for him to propose.

‘ Well I’m definitely on the lookout, ’ Tammy writes. ‘ My dance partner’s out – he’s loved-up with his wife. But there must be someone on the production team or in the audience who’s single and looking to mingle. Ooh, speak of the devil, here he is. Time to get to work. ’

‘ Yep, me too ,’ Beth adds. ‘ The dance floor’s waiting. See you soon, guys. Miss you! ’

My Merle revelation will have to wait.

He arrives soon after that, striding purposefully across the dance floor and smothering me with a kiss, seemingly ready to pick up where we left off yesterday.

But just as quickly, he pulls away and fixes me with a look so deep it feels like it’s penetrating straight into my soul.

Oh no – please don’t tell me that means he can still taste the booze on my breath.

I brushed my teeth three times, and I’m sure I put on enough concealer to hide the bags under my eyes.

‘I find you very hard to resist,’ he growls, which is music to my ears – even though it still blows my mind that someone as gorgeous as him could be into me.

‘Then don’t,’ I whisper, conscious of the tremor in my voice. I might be feeling a bit fragile, but I fancy him more than I’ve ever fancied anyone in my life. Yes, Ed was handsome in his own way, but with Merle, there’s a magnetism I just can’t get enough of. It makes my whole body ache.

He runs a hand down my cheek and tilts my chin up towards his. Then he brings his mouth to mine again, this time so delicately it’s like he’s scared I might break.

‘We should get started,’ he murmurs, letting his hand trail tantalisingly down my body. And for a moment I think he’s talking about something other than dancing, until he says, ‘We’ve got a lot to get through today.’

I bite back my disappointment as he turns away to change his shoes. Doesn’t he realise the effect he has on me? It’s almost more than I can bear.

As soon as he’s ready, Merle gets us working on a section of the routine where, to put it bluntly, it feels like we’re dry humping for quite a few seconds.

I don’t know if it’s deliberate, but it makes me so aware of his body rippling against mine that I can’t think about anything else.

With a different instructor I would have found it painfully embarrassing, but with him I just want to lose myself in the moment.

He keeps his voice soft as he tells me when to lean into him and away again.

For my arm positioning, he just guides me with his hands, running them from my shoulders to my wrists to make sure I’m fully extending, then using his thumbs to create a slight bend in my elbows before returning to my hands to tease each finger into position.

My skin tingles from his touch, even after he’s moved his hands away.

There’s a half-spin midway through the sequence and when I’m facing away from him, I can feel his breath hot on my neck.

He holds each position for longer than we will in real time – to give my muscle memory time to develop, he says.

Because he can’t tear himself away from me, is what I want to believe.

Once we’re facing each other again, we barely break eye contact.

His irises seem to have turned a shade darker and the intensity of his gaze makes my knees feel weak.

I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me so deeply: like nothing matters in the universe but me.

I can’t tear my eyes away from his. I’ve never felt so captivated – or so captivating.

I think I might explode when he murmurs huskily, ‘I want you, Kate.’

‘I want you too,’ I whisper, my heart pounding. My God, do I want him.

Without another word, our mouths crush together and we’re pulling each other closer, one of his hands moving straight to my breasts, my own quickly finding their way under his T-shirt.

He sighs when I trace the lines of his six-pack, and steps back to pull his top up over his head.

I try not to stare as he drops it onto the floor behind him.

I know I’ve been thinking about this since the second I laid eyes on him, but I can’t believe it’s actually happening, right here in the studio.

It occurs to me that I was with Ed for more than a month before we saw each other naked, whereas I hardly know Merle.

But for once, I don’t care. I’m so attracted to him that I don’t care if we’re moving at the speed of light.

As he comes closer and helps me lift my vest top up over my head, it feels reckless and exciting. Look where waiting got me, anyway.

His eyes drink in my breasts before he starts caressing them through the lace of my bra. I push them towards him and he groans and reaches behind me, releasing the catch and letting it fall to the floor. Then he brings his thumbs back to my nipples and my hangover becomes a distant memory.

He spins me round to face the mirror and stands behind me, kissing the back of my neck and reaching round to tweak my nipples. I watch our reflection and feel the heat building between my legs.

When his hand drops lower it sends a million currents through my body. He rolls my leggings down and lifts my feet to free me from the material, then he runs his hands back up my legs, strokes my waist, moves back up to my breasts, taking his own sweet time.

I try to turn back towards him, but he shakes his head no and continues to run his fingers all over my body, bringing every nerve to life as I watch in the mirror. The longer he takes, the more urgently I want him, but at the same time I don’t want him to ever stop touching me.

When he eventually works his way back to my clitoris, he stays there for a deliciously long time, circling with his fingers while he grinds himself against my naked backside. Then he replaces his hands with mine and urges me to carry on.

‘Let me watch you touch yourself,’ he says, stepping back to free himself from his gym tights.

I stroke myself tentatively. It’s not something I’ve done in front of someone before – Ed would never have suggested it.

But when I see how Merle can’t peel his eyes away, I push aside my self-consciousness and move my fingers faster.

It’s not long before he moves back in behind me and places his hands over mine.

I can feel his erection against my back as he uses a finger to push my own up inside me, guiding my movements like he’s choreographing a dance. It makes me gasp. How could I not have known I could feel this aroused?

‘You’re so wet,’ he whispers, as he withdraws his hand and trails it back up my body. He runs his fingers over my lips, pushing one into my mouth, and moans softly when I suck on it. Then his hands are back on my breasts, squeezing and teasing while he watches me respond to his touch.

Taking my hands again, he places them against the cold glass and I think he’s going to enter me from behind, but he drops to his knees and spreads my buttocks, taking my breath away as he starts licking me in a way I’ve never experienced before.

I nearly come like that, steadying myself on the mirror as he pulls me onto his face.

But before I do, he draws me down onto our discarded clothes with him and straddles me as I lie on my back.

He pushes two fingers up into me, using his other hand to mirror the movements on the outside, and we don’t break eye contact as a back-arching burst of pleasure rips right through me.

Having him watching me writhe in ecstasy as I come makes it feel even more intimate, like I’m showing him a part of me that no one else knows.

When he starts stroking himself, I reach up to take over, but he blocks my hand and says, ‘Let me.’

I watch the muscles contracting in his stomach as he finds his rhythm and gets closer to orgasm. He doesn’t take his eyes off me when his hips start juddering. He comes above me with a quiet roar.

When he runs his hands over my body one last time it feels like we’ve shown each other all our secrets.