(No Control - 11. Best Song Ever)

Jess leads me onto the dancefloor and all I can focus on is her hands touching my waist as she messes about, swaying her legs back and forth.

I need to pull myself together.

I laugh out loud at her funny moves, and decide to join in - she doesn't seem to mind me making an absolute prat out of myself. I've been doing it all evening and she's still here.

I wave my hands in the air, grinning, and we dance stupidly to Ed Sheeran for a minute, ignoring everyone else in the room.

But - oh God - she's now turned around and is wiggling her hips at me. I sneak my arm around her waist and pull her against me so her hips are against my crotch.

I'm getting turned on. Again. I swear she must have spiked my drink with something - an aphrodisiac maybe? It's the only explanation for how horny I'm feeling.

She doesn't stay close to me for long, but breaks free and resumes her moves. I know she's being silly but I can tell she's a good dancer. She's smooth and fluid, and her feet are perfectly in time with the beat.

I'm so consumed watching her that it takes me a second to realise the next song that's just come on. I don't believe this. Fucking Best Song Ever.

This has James Corden written all over it. There he is, the fucker, standing over by the DJ giving me a thumbs up and laughing his head off. I resist the urge to give him the finger.

I look over at Jess to see untamed excitement has taken over her face.

"This is so embarrassing," I mutter, but I can tell she's not listening as she's already singing along, a beaming smile on her face.

She obviously wasn't lying when she said she was a fan. She knows every single word. I can't help but smile at her enjoyment. She's beautiful when she's smiling like this. She's beautiful, full stop.

I stand to the side of the dancefloor, watching her, and wait for the song to finish. I don't want to be a party pooper but I am not dancing to my own songs. Can you imagine? It would be on Sugarscape in a matter of seconds.

When the last notes die away I grab her and press her small body into mine. I'm delighted when she puts her arms around my waist. "Do you feel better for that?" I tease her.

"A bit," she replies. "But I'd feel a lot better if you kissed me again."

Thank Christ for that.

I do as she asks, and her hands slide up around my neck and she slips her tongue in my mouth. I can taste the Dom Perignon on her lips and it makes me lightheaded. I respond by pulling her hips against mine. There is something really sexy about the way we're kissing each other, on a dancefloor in a club. My mind starts to wander as her tongue gently probes my mouth, and I find myself yet again thinking about getting her back to my place to carry this on in private.

I know, I know, she's already said that's not going to happen but honestly, the way she is kissing me right now... it would make Nick Grimshaw hard, and he bats for the other team.

"You're making me way too hot," I tell her, breaking away and looking deep into her eyes.

She bites her bottom lip and maintains eye contact. "You started it," she points out. "You made a move on me."

"I didn't hear you complaining," I remind her.

I watch as she slowly licks her lips, and then - oh Christ - she brings her finger to my mouth and seductively strokes my bottom lip. She never breaks eye contact. What the fuck.

I swallow hard. "You need to stop doing that," I tell her.

I'm rock hard again.

"Why?" she asks innocently. She's still running her fingertip across my lip. I can barely breathe.

"You're really, really turning me on," I say, slowly and deliberately. The way she's looking at me, I know she's turned on too, and for the first time tonight I honestly think I'm in with a chance here. "Shall we sit down?" I suggest.

We skirt around the edge of the dancefloor back to our booth and I tug at my jeans, trying to conceal the party currently taking place in my underwear.

"Are you having a good time?" I ask her once we're sat down.

"It's surreal," she says after a moment. "But yes, I am having a good time. I honestly could never have imagined I'd be doing this tonight."

I'm relieved she's enjoying herself, and I find her truthfulness endearing. "Honestly, neither would I," I confess. "I fully intended to drop in to that party and say hi to Nick, then head straight home and crash."

"Well I'm glad you stayed," she says. She gives me a shy smile, and I suddenly want to reassure her I'm not only after one thing. Because I really don't think I am. Whatever the outcome of tonight, I am having a brilliant time with this girl and I don't think I want it to be a one off? Or maybe that's the champagne talking.

"Me too," I say out loud.

I want to tell her why I stayed, but in my head it sounds wussy, slimy, pathetic, pervy... anything but cool. But unfortunately for me she can tell I was about to say something else and looks at me questioningly so I jump in with both feet.

"I decided to stay after I saw you. You walked past me in the lounge with your friend and... well, I thought you were hot and I wanted to say hi."

She stares at me with her eyes wide and her mouth open and it makes me laugh. "Is it really that hard to believe?" I ask when she doesn't say anything.

"I'm flattered," she says finally.

"You're a beautiful girl," I tell her. She is. She really, really is.

"Alright, don't push it," she grins, and we're back to the banter again. "All the flattery in the world won't get you what you want."

Oooh. Cards on the table, much?

"Really? And what do I want?"

Come on Jess. Put your money where your mouth is. Let's get to the point.

"Too much for someone I just met," she smiles. "I'll be right back."

Before I can respond, she slides out of the booth with her bag and heads towards the bathrooms.

I watch her walk away and take a deep breath. I honestly can't figure her out. I'm certain I'm turning her on. No one can fake the kind of passion and enthusiasm that she's showing when she's kissing me. She says she doesn't do one night stands, so I don't think she makes a habit of seducing guys in clubs. And anyway, I've been the one doing all the chasing tonight.

So what does she want? She's kissing me like she wants me, but then she tells me she's not that sort of girl. Should I ask for her number? No - I'm not sure I trust her enough to do that. I don't think she's a fame hungry fan, but she's so mysterious, what if I've got her all wrong?

Damn it, I don't know what to do.

Then I remember our earlier conversation about Twitter. What did she say - she's only got 3 followers? That doesn't sound like the sort of person who is desperate for attention. I pull my phone out and type her username into Twitter - @jessie_braddy.

Her profile loads up and I grin at her 3 followers. @Callie_1993, @CalvinBradshaw and @MaddiexBraddie. Bless. I'm suddenly feeling reckless (and pissed). My finger hovers over her follow button, and I hesitate for a split second before tapping it.

Following.

Let's see how that affects your follow count, Jessie Braddy.

I look up in time to see her walking back towards me, and I quickly exit Twitter as she drains the last of her champagne. I put my phone away, unable to hide my smirk.

I wonder what she'll do when she realises I've followed her. Will she DM me? Will she even care?

"I'm going to get a glass of water," she says, interrupting my thoughts. "Do you want some more champagne? My round."

Errr what?

"You're not buying me a drink," I say, standing up and frowning.

"What do you mean?"

"It's my treat. I brought you here, so it's on me," I tell her.

There is no way she's paying for anything tonight.

"I was hardly under duress," she argues. "Anyway I'm only having water. I can't drink any more or I really will be on the floor."

Oh God, she's talking about being on the floor. I genuinely don't think she realises how my mind is interpreting her innocence.

"My bedroom floor?" I quip.

I can't seem to help myself. I smirk at her again, hook my arm around her waist and pull her body close to mine.

"Dream on," she says, slapping me down for the millionth time tonight. "I need my bed. My OWN bed."

"Well maybe I'm not ready to let you go yet," I confess. I can't take my eyes off her lips. It's far too long since we last kissed properly. It must be at least five minutes. Maybe even ten.

She slowly strokes my bottom lip again and I look into her eyes. Seriously, what am I supposed to think when she does that? I've told her it turns me on, and she's just made a point of doing it again.

Oh God, now she's licking her lips. I don't think I need to tell you what I'm imagining right now.

"Now who knows exactly what they're doing?" I say, my voice sounding husky and deeper than usual. I can't take my eyes off her.

"I don't know what you mean," she whispers.

Liar.

"Oh I think you do," I breathe.