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He’s done avoiding whatever it is between us.
And his eyes.
They change color when he’s facing his bloodlust. Brought on by hunger, attraction, arousal, or any strong feelings he had said.
I realize now that he constantly battles his vicious nature when he’s around me. And after what he told me about his parents, I can’t blame him for taking precautions. It’d be unfair of me to pressure him into something he’s not ready for, especially when he believes he could lose control and hurt me.
It’s not about me trusting him.
He needs to trust himself, and that’s not something I can force. It’s not my gift to give.
Instead of mincing his words, I chug a half-mug of cold, leftover valerian tea from my nightstand. Then I wait anxiously to see him in my dreams.
Rose petals scatter all over the room in red, orange, and sunset hues.
His sunset roses.
“Mo róisín,” he whispers, reaching for me. “You came.”
“I’m still not sure exactly how this works.”
“We have much to talk about—”
“Not now.”
Giving him a coy look, I decide not to waste any time. We’ve done the talking tonight, and I don’t know how much time we’ll have in our dream together. I don’t want to waste another second. I slip out of my dress, leaving me in just my undergarments. Shy, and self-conscious, I quickly step forward and press my lips to his. It’s gentle at first. We kiss, lost in each other’s lips for eternity, yet not nearly long enough at the same time. When he pulls back, I mourn the loss of his firm body.
He drops to his knees before me.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
He chuckles, his fingers teasing the waistband of my underwear. Slowly, he slips them down over my legs.
I step out of them, standing before him fully nude. My cheeks heat and I fight the urge to wrap my arms around myself. His eyes hood with lust and he runs his hands through his hair, as if he’s hanging on by a thread.
“Such a pretty rose,” he murmurs. “I bet you taste as sweet as one, too.”
My heart rate increases, and even though it’s a dream, I swear I’m on the verge of passing out from desire.
“I want you,” I whisper.
“Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
“I want you to show me how you feel about me.” Biting my lip, I grow bold and speak more confidently as I say, “I want you to make me come. I want you to be the first person to make me come, Rainer.”
“Those are awfully dirty words for such a good girl.”
“Who said I was a good girl?” My cheeks burn at my own bold words.
“Alessia.” My name comes out like a warning.
This isn’t my first time by any means—Felix and I have had plenty of turns in the sheets—but this is my first time being so forward, driven by the nagging need in my core.
Reaching out to lift the hem of Rainer’s shirt, he helps me tug it off over his head. I work the button of his trousers next, slowly working his pants and underwear down his hips. His erection springs out, staring me in the face, and my body heats with anticipation. My hands grow clammy with nervousness.
This is happening.
This is a dream, but it doesn’t make it any less real.
