But then I feel her stiffen.
I know the instant she comes awake. It’s like her whole body goes on alert, even though she hasn’t moved a muscle. Her hair tickles my chest as she raises her head to look up at me.
“What are you doing?” she asks softly, as though she’s not quite sure she’s awake.
“I’m going to bed. What are you doing?”
“Sleeping.”
“I can see that.”
Her brow furrows like she’s still working all this out. Her blue eyes are heavy and I can see her struggle to push her way through the cobwebs. She’s trying to find her way to wakefulness and reality.
“Are you really here?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you should be at work and I could be dreaming.”
“So you dream about me?”
“Yes,” she replies candidly.
“Are they good dreams?”
“Mostly, yes.”
“Mmm, would you like them to be real?”
“Sometimes.”
“What about now?”
Her eyes search mine before they drop to my mouth. That tells me at least part of what she dreams about—kissing me. “Yes,” she whispers.
“Were you dreaming of my lips?” I ask, keeping my voice low so as not to fully wake her. I know what her answer is; I just want to hear her admit it.
Gently, I roll until she’s on her back and I’m hovering over her. I brush my lips over hers, using just enough pressure to tickle her, tease her.
“Yes,” she sighs, her minty breath fanning my face as she relaxes back into the mattress.
“How about my tongue? Were you dreaming about it?” I trace the outline of her lips with the tip of my tongue, dipping inside only long enough to make her want more.
“Mmm-hmmm,” she moans in answer, tilting her face up in open invitation.
“Do you dream about it here?” I ask, flicking her earlobe with my tongue. I descend to her collarbone, easing my fingers under the thin strap of her top. I feel her fingers push into my hair, and I know I’m getting warmer. “Or do you dream about them here?” I pull one side of her top down until her creamy breast and pink nipple are exposed. I draw the pebble into my mouth and feel her fingers clench into a fist, tugging on my hair. “Mmm, you like it there, huh?” As I tease and suck her nipple, I slip my knee between her legs, parting them a little farther. “What about here? Do you dream of my tongue here?” My hand glides down her flat stomach to the damp material between her thighs.
I knew they would be wet.
“Yes,” she breathes heavily.
Moving the cotton to the side, I slide one finger between her slick folds. “I bet you dream of my tongue here, don’t you?” I ask, caressing her wet skin.
Her answer is more of a moan, but it speaks just as clearly as any words. I move down to kiss her bare stomach. “And here,” I whisper as I ease my finger into her. When her muscles squeeze, I can’t hold back a groan. “Oh, shit, you’re so tight!”
She moves her hips against my hand and I can feel her body sucking at my finger, begging me to fill it with something bigger, something harder. But as much as I want to do exactly that, I want her to be fully awake and fully consensual for it. I’ve never had sex with a woman who wasn’t aware of what was happening. And although I can feel how willing her body is, I want her mind to be on board, too.
“Laney, you know this is real, right?” I ask, reluctantly stilling my hand and looking up past her luscious nipple to her passion-filled face. “You’re here with me, in my bed, and I’m getting ready to make you come so hard, you’ll scream my name. Tell me you want me to do that.”
Her eyes are wide and very much awake, but now that I’m giving her an out, I can see the indecision rushing in. I can feel it in the way she’s tensing beneath me.
Why the hell did I do that? Fu—
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, interrupting my thought and confirming my suspicion. “I can’t think straight around you, and certainly not when you’re . . . touching me.”
I hold back a sigh and give her a wry smile. “I kinda figured as much.” Reluctantly removing my finger from inside her, I move back up her body to lean over her. I pull a strand of hair away from her face. “This is gonna happen. You know that, right?”
She says nothing. She doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t disagree either, which tells me she knows it, too.
“Just not tonight,” I say, rolling off her and sitting up to run my fingers through my hair. With my back to her, it gives her time to straighten her clothes without me looking on. It gives me time to focus on not getting harder. And not trying to persuade her. Which I could do.
I know if I pressed her, I could get her to give in. But I won’t. When we do this, I want her body and her mind begging for it. “Tonight, I’m very interested to know how I came home to find you in my bed.”
“Are you complaining?”
I turn around to look at her, to see if she’s kidding. Her expression is unreadable. “Hell no!”
She smiles and draws her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. Even though it’s an innocent gesture, it’s so prim it’s somehow sexy. And it makes me want her all over again.
I stretch out on my side, crossways in front of her, resting my head on my palm. “So, tell me your tale, Goldilocks.”
Laney focuses on her toes as she wiggles them. I don’t say anything else to prompt her. She’ll tell me in her own time. She has to. She’s been sleeping in my bed, for God’s sake.
Finally she speaks. Her voice is quiet. Wounded.
“It won’t make any sense unless I start from the beginning.”
“Okay, then start from the beginning.”
She glances up at me then quickly away, almost like she’s embarrassed. Now I’m more curious than ever to know her deal.
“My whole life, all I’ve ever wanted was to get married and have kids, and find in life what my parents have.” I suppress a groan.
Damn! Why does she have to be that kind of woman?
“I met a guy my freshman year in college. He seemed like the perfect man. He was smart, responsible, ambitious, loving. He had pretty much the same goals as me. And I thought he was trustworthy. Turns out he wasn’t. I found him in bed a couple of months ago. With my best friend.”
“Oh shit! What an ass**le!”
Laney nods, still staring at her toes. “I’m sure you know . . . I mean, I doubt it’s any surprise to you that . . .”