Page 29

I kicked at the sheets, twisting every which way until I was free. I was hot, my body a sweaty mess while my mind was consumed by the dream I was having.

“We can’t do this,” I breathed. I quivered, feeling feverish, and too hot, but I couldn’t get enough of his hands. They touched me everywhere, leaving my skin warm. His mouth slanted over mine, his tongue licking my bottom lip before delving into my mouth.

“I don’t care,” he replied, breathless. He lifted me up and pushed me against the wall, pressing himself between my legs. I whimpered, overwhelmed by the desire and lust coursing through my veins, making my blood pump faster and faster. I wanted him, so badly I ached.

“Please,” I begged, not even sure what I was begging for. All I knew was that I wanted to be closer, I wanted him in every part of me, body and soul.

“Not here,” he sighed, trailing wet kisses down my neck until his lips brushed the spot between my breasts. “Not here.”

A frustrated groan slipped out of my mouth, and I clawed at his back. He was shirtless, and somewhere along the line he’d slipped my dress off my shoulders, leaving it pooled at my waist. The fabric of my lace demi-bra created the most delicious friction over my nipples, sending sparks straight to the spot between my legs.

I sucked in a sharp breath when he pulled my bra cups down, and sucked everywhere but where I wanted him to. He was torturing me, and from what I could feel, he was torturing himself too. He was hard beneath the zipper of his jeans, and it was intensely satisfying to know he was responding that way to me. He continued kissing my breasts, and ever so carefully, I slipped my hand between us and flicked open the button of his jeans. My fingers lowered, opening the zip, and he groaned when I wrapped my hand around his shaft. It was hot, and hard, and yet silky smooth.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

I writhed against him, finding a rhythm with my hand. He pulled back slightly, and I felt his hand dip beneath my panties. His eyes held a question, and I knew I would never be able to deny him, even if doing this felt so incredibly wrong it was right. I couldn’t even think straight, my mind a jumble of incoherent, disjointed thoughts.

I nodded, and sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, waiting in anticipation. He brushed his knuckle through my sex, soliciting a mewl from somewhere in my throat.

“Tell me I can touch you here,” he commanded.

“Touch me.” I stroked his shaft, watching the way his neck strained when I tightened my grip. “God, please touch me.”

The base seeped into the walls around us, sharpening the tension between us to the point of desperation. I held my breath, and when his fingers slid over my clit, my eyes rolled. I was embarrassingly wet and so aroused that it wouldn’t take much for me to fall over the edge.

My hips swirled, seeking his hand, and his answering groan rumbled through his chest. My free hand traveled up his shoulders, stopping at his nape. He pushed his fingers inside me, his palm pressing down firmly. I worked his shaft while he stroked my sex.

“I’m not going to last much longer if you keeping squeezing my cock like that.”

I wanted to tease him, so I applied more pressure, and he responded in kind by finding my g-spot. I’d made myself come that way many times — although I wasn’t quite as responsive to my own hand. We were perfectly in sync, and he matched every one of my strokes with one of his own until we were both on the precipice together. I pressed my forehead against his, and with a slight bit of added pressure, the band in my stomach snapped.

My back arched as I came, and when my eyes flew open I was back in my bedroom — not in some random place getting fingered against the wall.

Hottest. Fucking. Dream. Ever.

I wiped my hand down my face, wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed on my skin. My mind strained to recall who I’d dreamt about, but when it became too much of a struggle to recall, I huffed out an exasperated sigh, and climbed out of bed. My bedside clock blinked at me, taunting me with its reminder that I’d only been asleep for three hours. That was when Vaughan walked out of my bedroom, after he told me we needed time. I didn’t know why it felt like he was breaking up with me, I mean we weren’t even together. Since when did having a guy walk out on you warrant having sex with him in a dream?

Ugh!

This was ridiculous.

I flung my bedroom door open, and scowled at the darkness. When I walked into the kitchen, I found the light was already on and Maddy making some tea. She looked as exhausted as I felt.

“Hey. Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

She shook her head. “Want some tea?”

I nodded, and took a seat at the small counter that sectioned of our kitchen from the living room. Maddy’s eyes were still red, and I couldn’t help but feel partly responsible. If I’d known living here with her would be so stressful for her I might have considered staying at home a little longer. Not that either of us could have predicted I would be having panic attacks.

She placed the warm mug in front of me, and then took a seat on the other side so that we were facing each other.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Maddy thought it over, and I hoped like hell she wasn’t going try sugar coat how she felt for my benefit. I needed her to be real with me.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was so much quieter than I was used to, and it was because of me and Jackson. I hated it.

I opened my mouth, but Maddy narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t you dare apologize, Kenzi. You had no more control over that panic attack than I had over Jackson sleeping with some whore.”