Wrecked… dreaming of you


The last thing she should have been doing before she drifted to sleep was thinking about Zach.

Because the first thing she did once she slid into the dark, warm embrace of dreams was think about him . . . and there he was.

Steel Ink wasn’t precisely the place she would have expected to find herself, but as she lay back in the chair, she decided she wouldn’t complain. And she already knew she was dreaming. It was the only way to explain why she was in the chair wearing nothing but panties and a tank top, and why he was bent over her, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. He wasn’t doing anything sexual. At least it shouldn’t feel that way, but as he transferred a design onto her skin, Abigale had to bite back the urge to moan.

Long, agile fingers stroked down her hip and although she didn’t know why, when he peeled the paper away, he leaned in and pressed his lips to her hipbone. Her breath caught in her chest as she felt the glide of his hair across her skin. “Is . . . ah . . . is that part of the service?”

“No.” He kissed a little higher, nudged her shirt out of the way. “This is a special service. Just for you.”

Her laugh sounded breathless, even to her own ears. Then he caught the hem of her shirt and dragged it higher, exposing her breasts, and she didn’t have the breath to laugh, to think  . . . “And just what does this service entail?” she asked.

“Whatever you want.” He curved a hand over her knee. At the same time he caught one nipple in his mouth, tugging it gently with his teeth as she arched up against him, her back leaving the cushioned softness of the bench behind her. “What do you want, Abs?”

The low, husky sound of his voice hit her square in the heart. And lower. Heat spread through her and because it was a dream, because it was safe, she caught his hand and guided it between her thighs. “I want you.”

His mouth closed over hers. Shocking and hot, the kind of kiss she hadn’t had in far too long . . . and neither of the two men she’d been with had been able to make her feel like this. Like she was the very center of everything. Zach’s hand cupped her core, but he did nothing else as he kissed her and the kiss was even more intimate, more erotic than the feel of his hand between her thighs. His tongue stroked along the curve of her lower lip, teasing her until she opened for him and then teasing a little more until she was about ready to scream. When she might have pulled away, he shifted, pulled her off the chair and onto his lap.

“No pulling back now,” he muttered. “You wanted a torrid affair, I’ll fucking give you one.”

She tensed, caught off guard. Just a dream . . . only a dream, so yeah, he knew. But could she really?

“It’s a dream,” he whispered against her lips. “You do what you want.”

“I want you.”

Lifting her head, she stared into those familiar blue eyes, eyes she’d known for more than half of her life. So dark and hypnotic. So amazing. Lifting her hands, she cupped his face, her fingers pushing into the gold-streaked brown hair that fell to his shoulders. Holding him steady, she lowered her head to his, pressed her mouth to his. Against his lips, she murmured quietly, “I want you.”

Between her thighs, through his jeans, her panties, she could feel him throbbing against her and it was enough to make her moan. “Then have me,” he whispered. “Have—”

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