His warm chest is pressed against my back.
His mouth is nestled in the crook of my neck.
His hand is cupped around my breast.
And he’s awake.
I can tell by how still he holds, how soundless his breaths are, how stiff his arms are…as well as certain other things.
Then there’s me.
Also naked.
My arm is extended behind me, my hand tangled in Dominic’s hair.
My back is arched, my hips frozen mid-roll against Dominic’s cock.
My thighs are slick with the same arousal I felt in the dream.
And I just moaned Dominic’s name out loud.
Neither of us moves. Neither of us wants to be the first to break the silence, the awkwardness, the…strangeness of whatever just happened.
Yet I can’t deny the heat that still burns at my core. Waking up hasn’t lessened it, only caught me in the middle of sating my need. No wonder I couldn’t find the friction I yearned for in my dream.
Visions of my sex-filled imaginings flood me, amplified by the reminder of where Dominic’s hand is. He’s cupping my breast, my nipple pebbled beneath his fingers, just like in the dream. It was his tongue grazing it, of course, but—
Oh, gods. The reminder of how dream-Dominic looked up at me when he teased me, told me to beg, sends another shock of warmth through me. My mind is still hazy. I don’t quite know where we are or why we’re here or how the hell we got into this situation, but for the briefest second, I consider being the first to break the moment. Not to end it, but to…
I don’t know, maybe to finish what we started, for the sake of easing this tension. This burning heat that’s so strong it’s almost painful. From how hard Dominic is behind me, his cock pressed against my ass, I imagine it might do him some good too. We’re already here. I’m already on the brink of an orgasm, and I sure as hell don’t mind him finishing it for me. So what if I shifted slightly, parted my knees like I did in my dream, a subtle invitation that he can take or leave?
I gather in a shaky breath…
Dominic leaps up at once.
“What the fuck?” he mutters, running a hand over his face and taking several strides away.
I push up from…wherever I was lying. A makeshift bed? It’s hardly more than a faded piece of canvas over several layers of something slightly squishy. Pine branches, maybe, based on the scent. I push back the blanket—which turns out to be my damp cloak—and look around us. We’re in a cave. Daylight brightens the opening, but all I see is white outside it. Inside the cave, roots and branches climb over the walls in twining patterns. There’s a roaring fire at the center of the cave floor and not much else.
Just me and Dominic.
Who’s still naked.
“What the hell kind of dream was that?” he mutters under his breath. He runs his hand over his face one more time, then shakes hishead. I watch him, brow furrowed, as he tugs his trousers from one of the roots overhead and pulls them on. I get an eyeful of his still very erect—and rather impressive, if I’m being honest—cock.
Snatches of the dream flood my mind again, but I force them away, force my eyes away from the low rise of Dominic’s trousers, the wide expanse of his scarred chest, minimally obscured by the bandages I wrapped around his wound. I need to clear my head enough to consider what the hell we’re doing here.
As I come down from the high of my dream, my arousal abates, and my rational mind makes its first appearance. It’s about fucking time.
It all comes back to me. The bridge. The river. Dominic lifting me in his arms.
That’s the last thing I recall, but…why are we here? Where are the others?
Why were we naked?
I must say the last part out loud, because Dominic blurts out, “I couldn’t leave you in your icy clothes. Here.” He tugs another article of clothing from the vines and throws it at me without looking. I realize it’s my chemise. Embarrassment dawns in slow, mortifying waves.
I look from my naked chest to my chemise. Then at all the other pieces of clothing hanging to dry. I pull the chemise over my head and scramble to my feet. “You fucking undressed me?”
