“Right.”
I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly Sahara-dry. “You— You can have that side.”
He gets in on the left side of the bed, and I flick off the lights, then slide in on the other side, the sheets cool against my legs and arms. Why did I choose shorts and a tank top? I push my bedroom-fashion regrets aside as we face away from one another. Jack’s bed is a full, maybe to accommodate the weights and crap in his room, so he wouldn’t have had much room if he’d bunked with Anna. Mine is a queen. Bigger than his, but still. There isn’t much space separating us. His body heat is a burning brand at my back.
“You have a lot of plants in here,” he says.
“Your eyes work. Congrats.” I grab for my cell and scroll through, the faint light illuminating the room somewhat. I’m poking blindly around my apps, looking for anything to avoid thinking about him in my bed.
“Thank you. For this. I wasn’t looking forward to that dust all night.”
“Of course. Sleeping with me is always a better choice than lung damage.”
I feel the bed move, hear him laugh. His rear slides against mine. I tense. He shifts slightly, angling his body away. “Dancing cheek to cheek,” he says, humor lurking in his voice.
It’s a long time before I fall asleep.
24
I reach for the Pirate Duke, running my hands up under his shirt, pressing my palms against his hot chest. He groans deeply in my ear. He jerks when my fingers brush his nipple. I do it again, pinching. He gasps and runs his hand up over my breast, pulling the top of my bodice down, drawing me free of the cloth and testing the weight of me in his hand. He returns the favor, pinching my nipple, wresting a breathless gasp of aching ecstasy from me. I reach down and grab him firmly, loving the way he instinctively rubs against my hand. He lifts his head, staring down at me with a fierce expression. “Fuck.”
I frown. I was expecting flowery prose. Something about me being a rose ripe for plucking, or some crap about wanting my nectar.
No, no, stop questioning. Stay in the dream.
He toys with my nipple again, wrenching a moan from me, and I’m pulled back into the moment, losing the thread of my thoughts. He lowers his lips to my breast, watching me from the eye not covered by that black patch. As he smiles, his face changes slightly. His hair color becomes a touch darker, his uncovered eye shifting from green to a pewter-gray.
His lips are a breath away from mine, and then his mouth is on me, his wicked, wicked tongue drawing, pulling. I buck, opening my eyes and staring up at him as he grins at me.
Wait. Jack?
No, damn it. Stay in the moment. Stay in the dream.I reach for him again, rubbing—
A sound wakes me up.
I’ve moaned so loud and long that it penetrated the veil between my very raunchy dream and wakefulness. My eyes pop open as I remember who is in bed with me.
The sound awakens Jack, enough that he groggily opens his eyes. He smiles a slow, sexy, piratical grin. “Good morning. Told you you’re a moaner.”
He reaches for me, and I press a hand against his chest, my eyes as wide as my lids allow. I see the split second when it dawns on him what is happening. His lips draw closer. Another moan sounds, this time decidedlynotfrom me. Jack moves against my hand. Which is in his pants. Wrapped around him. I register the velvet feel of him, the impressive shape, the damp tip, in the eye-blink before I jerk my hand away.
Oh my God.
We both roll onto our backs. He throws his arm over his eyes. I am a marble statue, barely breathing.
When a few minutes have passed, and I’m not even sure he’s still awake, I say, thickly, “Ah. So… About that. I thought I was dreaming…”
He hauls in a bucketful of air and releases it through the pursedOof his lips. I try not to look at the blanket bunched around his hips. When he finally speaks, his voice is sleep-deepened.
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself.”
I cringe, my eyes locked on my shadowed ceiling.
“I know I’m irresistible, but—”
“Oh my God, don’t joke!” I shove at his arm, pushing it off his eyes. He rolls over, pinning me partially under him. He is dazzling in the pre-sunrise light. The weight of him is delicious. His stomach is pressed to mine, skin to skin where my shirt has ridden up. His leg rubs against mine, between mine.
Do we let this happen?I see my question reflected in his eyes. The world has narrowed to Jack. Every muscle is strained to the breaking point withwant. I shift my leg, the one trapped between his, letting my thigh rub up, just a bit, against his erection. He hisses out a breath.
