“What can I do for you today, sir?”
“Just a trim.”
“Okeydokey.” I sigh, whipping the cape up and over to flick it into place over his front.
I make sure not to touch the guy because I don’t do that kind of thing and then I spritz his hair, not wetting it but getting it slightly damp to tame the strands.
“Just a little.”
“Okay. Only a little. Promise,” I say softly as I run my hands through his hair and stifle a moan.
It’s so soft, so silky soft, and for a minute, as I touch it, my body heats and sends a wild pulse to that place between my legs. It throbs and as I snatch in a breath and start to comb, forcing my fingers to free the strands, I have to tell myself not to embarrass myself. I can’t be fondling a stranger’s hair and perving over his smell—
Smell.
The thought hits me like a bolt of lightning and still, one hand holding the comb still while the other shakily lowers the scissors back to my apron. Once I’m free of the thing, I lift my free hand and slowly lower it to the man’s shoulder, the contact so electrifying my fingers shake.
This is a dream. I know it as surely as I know anything and I’m beyond disappointed as I stand behind the man, this figment of a man, and let my hand touch him. There is no fear of him, not a scrap of anxiety as I squeeze his shoulder and let his heat penetrate my fingers.
“I wish you weren’t a dream,” I say huskily, my eyes burning with unshed tears as I talk to my mystery man who holds a scent that calls to me. “I wish you were real.”
“Why can’t I be?” he asks, that voice so low I almost don’t make out the words.
“Because no one talks to me and I’m awful at this kind of thing.”
“You don’t sound awful, Becks. You sound just right.”
“And you’re just a dream.” I snort, although even then, this is nice.
It beats the nightmares I have and it beats being alone. When I don’t have nightmares, I don’t really dream at all, so when I say I’m alone, I mean it in the worst sense of the word.
“I could be more,” the man says, starting to turn, and thrilling me.
I want to see him, need to see him but just before I can, I wake up, sitting up with a gasp of disappointment as I look around my room. It’s still storming, still wild outside and for a second, I see that flash of a figure and feel my heart sink when another flash shows nothing.
I don’t want to be alone anymore.
Please, God. Send me someone to love.
Chapter one
Zack
Obsession.
It’s a word I’ve never truly given much thought to but as I linger beside the oak tree, in a yard I shouldn’t be standing in, it’s a thick and present ache within me that only seems to grow. Day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. As the seconds tick by and rain continues to fall, drenching me in its cold grip, that obsession grows to the point of insanity.
Need her.
I snarl as my mind hisses the word, the driving need and desperation that breathes within, shuddering and growling, demanding I be set free to get to my woman. I want to take her. Own her. Claim her. My balls are so heavy with come they ache and my dick physically hurts as I continue to stare into the little house where Rebecca lives, her supple body stretched on the sofa as she laughs at the movie she’s watching.
It’s the same comedy she’s watched the last four nights in a row and I know the words off by heart already as I flick my eyes to the screen, taking in the scene for a second only before my eyes return to her. Her. My only want and desire.
She’s all I want now. Gone is my want for anything else and in its place is Rebecca. Her soft brown hair that cascades down her back to rest just above her luscious ass. Those eyes, a cornflower blue that sparkled and held me captive the very first moment I looked into them. And that body.
I bite into a fist and groan, my eyes rolling back in my head when I think of her curvy body and the way it would cradle me when I thrust my cock deep into her.
Need.
