Except for the fact that my bedroom door is closed. My dick twitches behind my zipper as all manner of lewd, hot scenarios involving me and Laney flit through my head. I bite back a groan and take a deep breath before moving on down the hall, in complete stealth, toward my door.
I twist the knob and ease the door open. There, lying in a shaft of moonlight with her platinum hair spread out over my maroon pillowcase, is Laney, fast asleep. The covers are pushed down to her hips, leaving her entire upper body exposed. She’s wearing a form-fitting tank top that hugs her chest so tight I can see the outline of her ni**les. They make my mouth water. And from what I can see, the only other thing she’s wearing is a pair of light-colored panties.
I debate the best course of action from this point. The right thing to do would be to shut the door and leave her undisturbed while I go sleep on the couch. But that’s not what I want to do.
As I stand in the doorway staring at Laney, I remember our kiss at the Blue Hole. We have unfinished business. And that business is what has me throwing the “right thing” right out the window, in favor of the thing I want.
Laney.
It only takes me a few seconds to strip down to my boxer briefs. She’s lucky I’ve been bunking with a bunch of guys for the last few days, or else I wouldn’t be wearing any.
As gently as I can, I peel back the covers and slide in beside her. I can feel her body heat radiating toward me under the sheet, warming my legs. My c**k throbs with the desire to part her thighs and sink into her like I sank into the mattress—slow and easy.
I fold my hands behind my head, grit my teeth, and close my eyes, counting to twenty-five in an effort to get my body back under control. I hear Laney shift beside me right before I feel her hand sneak across my stomach. She drops one leg over mine and snuggles in. I wait a few seconds before I lower my arm and cup her shoulder with my hand. She sighs, and I relax against her.
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.