The dream clings to me like a second skin, refusing to fade the way normal dreams do. I can still feel phantom touches on my skin, can still taste kisses I never actually received, can still hear the sounds I was making in my sleep.
Please tell me I wasn't actually moaning out loud…surely the walls in this lodge are thick enough that nobody heard me having a sex dream about all three of them.
All three.
Nash, Grayson, and Theo.
Together. In my dream.
Doing things that make my face burn just thinking about them now that I'm awake and mortified and acutely aware of reality.
"Damn," I mutter into the darkness of my room, my voice rough with sleep and lingering arousal. "Haven't even gone on a date with each of them and already horny as fuck."
The absurdity of it would be funny if I wasn't currently lying in a puddle of my own slick, my thighs sticky and my body still throbbing with unsatisfied need. The dream brought me right to the edge but didn't let me fall, leaving me suspended in this aching, desperate state that sleep won't fix.
I huff out a frustrated breath and toss the blanket away from my overheated body.
The December cold should feel good against my flushed skin, should help cool me down, but instead it just makes me more aware of how hot I am, how much I'm burning up from the inside out.
The slick between my legs is undeniable. I can feel it, warm and slippery, evidence of exactly how much that dream affected me. My body responded like I was actually there, actually experiencing those touches and kisses and oh god I need to stop thinking about it or I'm going to combust.
Sleep isn't happening.
Not when every time I close my eyes I see flashes of the dream, when my body is screaming for relief I can't give myself without feeling even more pathetic than I already do.
Theo.
The thought comes suddenly, hopefully. Theo's usually awake early for his workouts and training routines. He mentioned something yesterday about doing pilates at dawn, about maintaining flexibility for his firefighter work. Maybe…he's already awake. I could see if he wants to start early, give myself something to focus on besides this aching need.
A distraction is better than potentially fucking myself with my own fingers out of desperation.
The idea of physical activity actually sounds perfect right now. Stretching, movement, something to burn off this restless energy coiled tight in my muscles. And if Theo's still asleep, well, I'll just come back to my room and suffer in silence like a normal person dealing with inappropriate attraction to her temporary pack.
I slide out of bed, my legs slightly shaky, and pad quietly across the hardwood floor.
My oversized sweater falls to mid-thigh, the soft cashmere we bought yesterday at that boutique in Millbrook. It's cream-colored and cozy and was probably way too expensive even though Nash insisted the credit card was for exactly this kind of purchase.
I didn't put on anything underneath when I collapsed into bed last night, too exhausted from the day's adventures to bother with pajama pants or underwear. Just the sweater and my exhaustion which apparently made my subconscious decide to torture me with the most vivid sex dream of my entire life.
The lodge is silent as I slip into the hallway, my bare feet making almost no sound against the cool wood. Pre-dawn darkness fills every corner, broken only by the faint moonlight filtering through windows. The heating system hums quietly, keeping the December cold at bay, but there's still a chill in the air that makes me shiver.
Or maybe that's just residual arousal. Hard to tell at this point.
I navigate the familiar path to Theo's room—down the hall, past the bathroom we all share, around the corner to where his door sits slightly ajar. Closed enough for propriety, open enough that he can hear if something's wrong.
My hand hesitates on his doorknob.This is probably a terrible idea.Showing up at his door at four in the morning, still flushed from a sex dream about him and his pack mates, reeking of arousal and slick and desperation.
What am I even thinking?
But I'm already here.
Already committed.
And honestly, what's the worst that could happen?
He says no and I slink back to my room to die of embarrassment?
I've survived worse.
