I lost myself in the ridiculously fabulous vampire romance, eventually queuing up the entire series for a marathon. Somewhere during New Moon, my eyelids grew heavy, but I fought against sleep, clicking to the next movie.
My thoughts drifted. Over the past weeks, the guys had become reliable fixtures in my daily life. Training with them, eating meals together, studying in the library. I’d grown comfortable around them and it fucking shocked me to my core.
Toocomfortable, perhaps.
There were moments when Rowan’s laugh made my insides flutter, when Phoenix’s gentleness filled me with warmth, when Theo’s quiet intelligence and heavy lidded bedroom eyes drew me in, when Lucas’s commanding, take charge, sometimes overbearing presence made me feel oddly safe.
And then there was Jamie.
My mind lingered on him. On his rare smiles that transformed his scarred face, on the peace I felt in our shared dreamscape. He was darkness and light all at once, damaged but not broken. Never, ever broken.
One time, my mom and I went to an antique shop filled with gorgeous Japanese pottery. We found these teacups crisscrossed with molten gold lines that looked like cracks in the surface. The shopkeeper had explained that it was actually an art form calledKintsugi, the art of repairing shattered pottery with lacquer and gold or platinum powder, to highlight the cracks rather than masking them.
The idea was to embrace the damage and flaws, making them more beautiful than before. Jamie was sort of like that in my eyes. His scars weren’t disfiguring at all, despite what he thought about himself. No, I looked at those scars and I saw aman who survived so much pain, and grew stronger than it. Who conquered it, and became so much more beautiful than before.
His green eyes reminded me of a cat’s sometimes, and they glowed slightly when he was excited, which was rare and special to witness. Gods, he was fucking beautiful and he didn’t even realize it. If he were human—which none of us were, not fully—his features would suggest mixed heritage, perhaps Japanese and European. Everything about him was striking.
I shifted under my blankets, suddenly aware of the heat building low in my belly. Without conscious decision, my hand slid down my belly, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my underwear. I gasped softly as I found myself already wet, my body responding to thoughts I’d been trying to suppress. Slowly, I began to circle my clit with my fingertips, imagining Jamie’s hands instead of my own.
My eyelids grew heavier as pleasure built, the laptop screen forgotten as I lost myself in the fantasy. I imagined Jamie’s weight pressing me into the mattress, his scarred lips trailing kisses down my neck, his voice rough with desire...
A yawn interrupted my rhythm, exhaustion competing with arousal. I tried to focus, to chase the building pleasure, but sleep was winning the battle. My movements slowed as I drifted off, still touching myself, still thinking of Jamie.
When I opened my eyes again, I was on the dream-cliff where Jamie and I often met. But something was different. Instead of standing at the edge looking out over the forest, I was lying in tall grass, the night sky a blanket of stars above me. I was still touching myself, fingers stroking my wetness.
I realized a moment later that Jamie was standing there, watching me. His green eyes were wide with shock, lips parted slightly. A dream-conjured cigarette dangled from his fingers, forgotten.
Our eyes locked, and I should have been mortified. I should have scrambled to cover myself, to stammer apologies. But this was a dream.Mydream. And instead of embarrassment, I felt a surge of pure, molten arousal flood through me.
Jamie didn’t move.
I made my decision at that moment. I was tired of denying myself, tired of the constant ache of loneliness. Taking a chance I prayed I wouldn’t regret, I continued touching myself, my fingers circling my clit with slow strokes.
“Jupiter…” he whispered, his voice strangled.
I let my head fall back against the soft grass, a moan escaping my lips as pleasure coursed through me. “Don’t stop me, Jamie.”
A low curse filled the night, followed by the sound of shifting feet. I kept my eyes closed, my fingers moving in steady circles, until I felt the heat of another body near mine. The grass rustled as Jamie knelt beside me.
Strong hands settled on my thighs, gently but firmly spreading them wider. I opened my eyes then, meeting his gaze. His normally vibrant green eyes were glowing now, luminous with desire in the darkness.
“In dreams,” I whispered, “we can do anything. No consequences. No regrets.”
Jamie swallowed hard. “I’ve never—I haven’t touched a woman. Not like this. Not since Eliza. And even then, we never?—”
I sobered slightly at his admission, my hand slowing. “I can stop,” I offered, though every cell in my body screamed in protest at the thought.
“No,” he said quickly, cutting me off. His breathing was ragged, uneven. I could see the evidence of his arousal straining against his pants, his knuckles white where he gripped my thighs. “Holdveryfucking still for me,”
I nodded, forcing myself to remain motionless despite the throbbing ache between my legs. For a long moment, he just looked at me, his eyes traveling over my exposed body with such intensity I could almost feel it like a physical caress.
Then he whispered, “Fuck it—” and lowered his head between my thighs.
The first touch of his tongue against my clit sent electricity shooting through my entire body. I gasped, my back arching involuntarily as he licked a long, slow path through my wetness.
“Fuuuck,” he groaned against me, his voice vibrating against my sensitive flesh. “You taste so fucking good.”
He devoured me, licking and sucking with instinctive skill that belied his inexperience and almost made me call him a liar. His hands tightened on my thighs, holding me open for his mouth as he explored every inch of me.
