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She bit her lip for a moment. ‘My head couldn’t work it out: my best friend vanishing into the air.

I had these dreams that he’d turn up at our door with a bag of Doritos and a huge apology, begging me to be his girlfriend.

Even years later. It was,’ she cleared her throat, moving on from the tiny crack in her voice, ‘ pathetic of me. So, each time I had that dream, I had to remind my heart of the truth: he didn’t love me, he didn’t want me.

It was all a silly, one-sided, teenage thing.

Clearly my heart didn’t fully get the message, hence the magic dragging him back to East Prawle when he still can’t stand to be near me.

But I’m going to fix that. Reverse the cast. Use the magic to send him away again. At dawn.’

‘Dawn: like, tomorrow?’

Temperance nodded. ‘First thing tomorrow.’

Wedding dresses were not designed for napping, that much Temperance knew to be true.

To be able to get into the dress while it was inside out and still fasten it up somehow, she’d needed Susie’s help.

So to save Susie also waking up at an ungodly early time to catch daybreak on the beach, the sisters had got her into the dress before bedtime and Temperance had tried to sleep on the sofa.

But not only was it tightly cinched with boning and lacing, and giving out rustles like a cat tearing through a stack of paper bags, this time Temperance was not dulled to the powers of the dress as she had been on FairyFest night, with a gallon of booze in her system.

Initially, falling asleep was fine – the thick hue of royal blue pure love made her feel truly content and at ease, so she could drift off in a minute.

But then a red kick of hip-rolling lust would surge through her dreams.

And oh those dreams. They were so real. And so hot . Temperance learned two things about her subconscious that night: it was horny and it was cruel. Her brain dug up the filthiest of dreams, but all about a man who wouldn’t share a water taxi with her, let alone a bed.

At first, Temperance wasn’t even aware that she was dreaming.

The living room door swung open and Abel walked through, his wetsuit pushed down below his navel again, wet footprints glittering in the lamplight.

Temperance could see his chest rapidly rising and falling, like he’d just run all the way back from the beach.

She was about to open her mouth and tell him to get lost but the words got stuck in her throat as she took in the curve of his biceps, the stepping stones of his abs.

Without saying a word, he strode toward Temperance and knelt over her on the sofa, his thighs outside hers.

There was a steely certainty in his eyes.

Abel’s right hand reached out and held her chin, then ran down her neck and her shoulder, all the way along her arm.

His touch was tender, but when he reached her wrist the movement stopped and his fingers gripped suddenly, raising her hand above her head.

Before she could say a word, he’d scooped up her other hand and now had both wrists pinned to the cushion behind her. ‘Stay,’ he growled as he sunk forwards.

His sea-cold lips found the soft skin at her neck, her collarbone, then the top of her breasts.

Temperance wriggled to bring her hands down to his bare torso, to feel that new-to-her chest hair, those steps of muscle.

But each time she tried, he only repositioned his hold and gave an impatient sigh.

And then his lips would start again, exploring every part of her body available, the rough warmth of his tongue drawing ley lines over her skin, drawing deep on a powerful longing she had kept buried for so long.

Temperance was caught between lust and frustration, her head swimming with the mix. She tried to push her hips up against him, demanding to play her own part in what was building between them, but she was powerless against his tall frame, his solid muscle.

Just as she whispered, ‘ Abel. Abel, please ,’ she woke up , breath heaving and sweat along her hairline.

Temperance blinked into the darkness, willing the images to fade away, to slip just out of consciousness like most dreams did when the spell was broken. But she could see it all in perfect recall, could feel the weight of him still over her, somehow.

It didn’t take long for the wedding dress to lull her into another deep sleep, but then the dress did its thing.

In the next dream, Abel appeared silently in front of her once more, but Temperance wasn’t going to let him be in charge this time: she stood and went to him without an invitation, weaving her hands into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down to her, pausing when their lips were just millimetres apart.

‘Now you stay,’ she murmured against his mouth, feeling a flip behind her navel as he smiled a wolfish grin in response.

She kissed him softly at first but then ran out of patience, her mouth wanting more, wanting everything, her tongue exploring boldly, her teeth holding his bottom lip until he groaned to be released.

They moved hard and fast against each other like this was a frantic dance they knew from muscle memory, and yet it was all so electrifying and brand-new: Abel’s hand pulling her hair back to angle her neck to his lips, the other strong hand on her bum, dragging her in flush against him.

Not wanting to lose the upper hand, Temperance pushed him back, back up against the door, but clearly Abel wasn’t going down without a fight.

He turned on his heel and span her around with him so that her hands were braced against the rough wood and his were free to grab at her hips, run up her sides, over her tits, squeezing hard.

He was right behind her, his body like an outline of her own.

Breath on her neck, each deep, throaty sigh making her push back further against him.

‘ Now, Abel.’

She was awake and staring into the black again. The clock said 3.17am. She knew she needed more sleep, but she was almost afraid of where the dreams would take her next, and yet she wanted to go there again.

They’re at the bus shelter. Teenagers once more.

A perfect summer’s day. Abel’s hand is open on his thigh, as Temperance sits next to him on the bench, drawing circles over his palm.

Their eyes are locked together, barely breathing.

She works up the nerve to explore as her fingertips tingle: the thick muscle at the top of his leg, built by hours spent on a surfboard.

Temperance can feel how strong he is, even over his shorts.

Then the softer skin on his inner thigh, finding a gasp from the back of his throat as she moves.

The noise makes her feel bolder, braver.

Her fingers trace the hard shape pointing up towards his stomach now, under the fabric.

Abel shuts his eyes and his head tips back against the shelter wall, a low growl coming from deep in his chest. Her hand trembles as she slips it beneath the elastic waistband and finds him impossibly hot and rigid: this is what she’s done to him.

It’s like a river running down her spine, this ego boost, this invitation.

The feeling pools between her legs: she’s so wet from just what she can do to him. She wants to know more.

Abel moves forward, kissing her like he’s been in the dessert and she is the water. When he breaks away, her hand is still stroking him, still absorbing the delicious, satisfying hardness there.

‘Someone might see,’ he whispers, but it’s not really a complaint or a warning.

Temperance feels her heart bang against her ribs.

He pulls his blue hoodie over their laps, a makeshift barrier, so she can keep her fingers wrapped around him, she can keep turning him insensible with each shudder of pleasure.

‘Come closer,’ he says into her hair, and her hips wriggle next to his. Abel’s hand snakes under the hoodie, finding the button of her jeans, clumsily wrestling with it while his mind is on what she is doing inside his shorts. ‘I need to feel you too. ’

As his hand slips inside her knickers, parting her and finding out for himself just how turned on she is, Abel has to cover Temperance’s mouth with his to stop her crying out.

‘Sshhh,’ he almost laughs against her lips. ‘The people on the green will hear.’

Whether he knows it or not, he’s found just the right spot, just the right pressure, to send flashing lights up behind her eyelids. She’s terrified that someone might see, but she’s terrified that Abel might stop: the pulse of lust filling her whole body turns her light-headed, almost.

Temperance can feel Abel straining to keep his shoulders and hips still, to concentrate. ‘Just . . . don’t move your hand, OK? I want to see if I can . . .’

His finger traces tiny, delicate circles. He kisses the side of her neck until she feels dizzy, until the feeling builds and every muscle she has clenches, until this new energy courses along her nerve endings and makes her feel she will float, until she almost can’t breathe, until she . . .

‘Abel!’ She collapses against him, entirely spent and entirely delighted.

Her mouth tries to find his again. Except he’s not there. She’s on her sofa – twenty-nine, not seventeen – her breath ragged, her body on fire.

That dream felt particularly cruel: painting it like a memory, like something she’d really experienced, when it was total fiction.

Temperance couldn’t take it anymore. OK, so the dreams were fun, but they were a surreal vision of a future she could never have.

They were a tantalising taste of everything she wanted but just couldn’t find.

She wanted love, but she wasn’t going to find it with someone who detested her, that was for sure .

With every follicle of her skin on edge and her mouth aching, she forced herself to stand up.