And his finger hooks, hard, turning every nerve under my skin into raw wire.
I’m already close, but the way he says it, command instead of question, shoves me over like a gust of wind. My pulse shatters, my whole body gathering and splitting into pieces, shaking so hard my teeth clack together.
There’s barely time for embarrassment, for anything but the pleasure that wipes every thought clean…
I wake up with my heart trying to punch through my ribs.
The ceiling of my room stares down at me, bland and innocent and very not barn. Moonlight filters in through the curtains, striping the quilt. My sheets are twisted around my legs, my skin damp, my pulse still racing like I’ve been running.
I don’t know where I am, heart slamming, lungs refusing to cooperate. Then the details land in a rush: Sunridge Ranch. Guest room. Night. No Caleb, no barn, no rough hands on my skin.
Just a dream that felt far too real.
I drag in a breath.
Then another.
“Whoa,” I whisper into the quiet.
My body hums with leftover sensation, phantom touches that have no business feeling as vivid as they do. My lips feel swollen. My neck feels hot. My thighs…
Nope. I’m not thinking about that. I made that mistake already with Silas, letting my body write checks my life couldn’t cash, and look how well that turned out. Absolutely not doing it again. Not with anyone under this roof.
I flop back against the pillow and cover my face with my hands.
“Get a grip, Delaney,” I mutter.
It was a dream.
Just a dream.
Sure, it starred a man I’ve known for a few hours, who lives across the hall, who works with me, whose family employs me.
No big deal.
Everything’s fine.
I groan into my palms.
Because here’s the real problem: it didn’t feel like some random fantasy my brain cooked up to torment me. Parts of it felt true. My subconscious had been taking notes all evening.
It shouldn’t be Caleb in that starring role. If anything, my guilt should be fixating on Silas, the man I actually slept with, or on Marcus, the cautionary tale I still taste like ash in the back of my throat.
But my mind skipped right past the man who already touched me and the one who already hurt me and landed on the one who simply listened.
I roll onto my side, pulling the pillow close, and stare at the wall.
He’s off limits.
Full stop.
Colleague. Housemate. Boone’s almost brother. Silas’s cousin. Sadie’s… whatever he is to her. Uncle, friend, anchor.
He is not a good idea.
I know that.
My brain knows that.
