Memories flash. It takes me a moment to parse what was real and a dream.
The rescue.
The Wedding Singer.
A Slurpee and the sweetest, sexiest man taking care of me. My dream.
My nightmare?
Oh shit, I sleepwalked last night.
I always wake with a bruise on my heart from it. I’ve had it for so long, missing my mom, but it’s not as strong as this luscious, heavy feeling wrapped around my body.
Loch.
Yesterday, he agreed—thereissomething special between us.
This morning, it’s hard, pressing against me.
Gently, I turn in his sleeping embrace, wanting to write a thank-you note to Fate. Because,holy hell, the muscles on this man.The ink. The grinning devil on the centerof his chest.
I kiss it, trailing my lips up, kissing the Egyptian eye protecting the soft hollow of his throat, though there’s nothing soft about him. He’s stirring, firm against me. His breath deepens with my lips on his neck, his skin smelling like a manly dessert: sweet tobacco and vanilla.
After everything Loch did for me yesterday, I’m his. I don’t need to go slow.
He’s the one.
You can’t convince my heart otherwise.
And right now? He’s the perfect specimen of a dangerously endowed man. My fear of his size is dwarfed by my desire to explore it, my lips finding the same spot on his neck that he claimed on mine.
I kiss, suck, then gently bite it, rewarded with his rousing moan. His massive body stirs, silently shocking me, fisting my hair, and forcing my lips to his.
Without a word, we kiss for moaning minutes, our hungry tongues awakening every part of my body—his too. His erection won’t stop swelling even larger, rutting against my center, making me ravenous.
I’m too attracted to him, too ready and reaching down, confirming if it’s real. Andoh my god, it is. I can’t even wrap my hand around his thick dick, so I palm his length, making him groan into our kiss. “Mmm. Fuck, Alena. Don’t. I’ll lose control with you.”
I squeeze his meaty shaft. “Iwantyou to lose control with me.”
“No, you don’t.” He nips my bottom lip, his voice gruff. “We need to go slow. You need to know who I am, remember?”
“I know who you are.” I pull back, searching his aqua eyes. “I sleepwalked last night, didn’t I?”
“Yes.” He brushes a lock off my face. “You were looking for your mom.”
Tears bite at my eyes. “And you stayed? It didn’t freak you out, and you didn’t leave?”
His fingertips brush my cheek. “I’ll never leave you.”
“And that’s who you really are, isn’t it? The kind of man who doesn’t run from my tears?”
“I swear I only want to make them go away.” It’s true. It’s in his watery gaze.
But so is something else. It’s stirring. Deep. Painful. Like he hates hiding it. “Whoelseare you?” I ask.
His pause makes me hold my breath until he shares, “Promise me, when you know who I really am, you’ll give me a chance.”
“What do you mean?”
