Hands smoothed over his chest. Fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt and flattened against his bare skin.
A gentle female voice whispered against his ear. “Just a dream.”
He raised his hand to cover the one on his chest, the fabric of his shirt between them.
“This feels so real,” he murmured.
“You’re here now. With me,” she said. “Not in a dream.”
He opened his eyes to muted starlight shining through windows. The air wasn’t thick with debris. He drew in a deep breath. Instead of the dry scent of an arid landscape, he inhaled the pleasant bouquet of flowers. Turning his head, something tickled his nose. A feather? He leaned into it.
Not a feather.
Hair…thick curls lying in wild disarray across a clean white pillow.
Eyes stared into his.
“Hey,” Holly said, a gentle smile curving her lips. “You’re back.” The hand on his chest disappeared and found its way to his cheek. “Are you okay?”
He nodded.
“Bad dream?” she asked as she brushed her slender thumb over his jawline.
“Johnny died,” he stated.
She nodded. “You couldn’t change it, could you?”
“No. However, this time, his final words were different. Then it wasn’t Johnny, it was Madam Gautier telling me to live now.”
Holly’s soft laughter warmed his heart and the skin closest to her lips. “Must have been a helluva nightmare.”
His arm tightened around her, and he pulled her close. “No. Johnny said he was dying. Knew he wouldn’t make it, but he wanted me to live.”
Her hand smoothed down his neck to rest on his chest, her fingers curling into the soft jersey of his T-shirt. “He was a good friend,” she said.
“The best,” Simon said. Then, he pushed back the residuals of his dream and studied Holly’s face. “What about you? Do you feel any better?”
She nodded. “Much better. Thanks for being here.” Her hand moved across his chest and lower to slip under his shirt again. “For staying.”
She lay curled into his side, her calf draped over his thigh, her sex pressing into his hip.
Simon’s groin tightened. He caught her hand through the shirt. “If you’re okay, I’ll head down to the couch.”
Holly stiffened. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” she whispered so softly, he had to lean his head closer to hear.
“Stay,” she said, the word lighter than air, her breath warm on his neck.
“It’s not my job to sleep with you.”
“If you weren’t my bodyguard, would you stay?” she asked, her fingers curling into the hairs on his chest, her nails scraping softly across his skin. “Do you want to stay?”
His hand tightened around hers. “Yes,” he admitted. “But I can’t.”
“Or won’t?”
“I can’t stay and not...touch you.” He let go of her hand and slid his across her arm to her hip, pulling her closer, gently grinding her sex against his body.
Her leg swept higher, her knee nudging against the bulge in his jeans. “What if I want to touch you?”
