"Lucern."
His name on her lips drew his eyes open, and he peered down to find Kate's sleeping face a portrait of ecstasy. She was panting, sweating and writhing on the sheets, her hands on either side of her head and tearing at the pillow as she convulsed with ecstasy. It was only then Lucern realized that while her mind was closed to him when she was awake, it was as wide open as anyone else's in rest. She'd just experienced everything he'd imagined, received it from his mind as if it were happening.
The knowledge was almost painful. He could have her if he wished. She would welcome him. Luc was breathing heavily with want, throbbing with desire, aching to drive himself into her. At the same moment, he yearned to fasten his teeth to her neck, consume her blood and body both at once. He knew it would be the most incredible experience of his life. But he couldn't. If he took her now, Kate would welcome it only because he wanted her to want him.
Shaking his head to erase the erotic images there, Lucern stumbled back from the bed, then out of her room. He didn't stop, but staggered drunkenly down the hall to the stairs. His head was full of her. He had to get away. The desire to take her was overwhelming.
He slammed out of the house and to his car. He had no plans when he started the engine, simply needed to get away from Kate and the temptation she presented. He ended up driving around for an hour or so before finally finding himself in Bastien's driveway. His brother's house was dark and silent, and he could sense that it was empty. He was about to back out of the driveway when Bastien's van pulled in beside him.
Lucern got out with relief, met his brother at the front of the vehicles and blurted out his troubles with Kate. It took a long while. He told his younger brother everything.
When he had finished, Bastien merely asked, "What will you do?"
Lucern was silent for a moment. Talking hadn't helped him clear his mind. He was still confused. He disliked confusion. He disliked any sort of disruption in his life. The answer seemed simple: Get rid of the confusion.
"I'm going to do whatever it takes to get her on a plane tomorrow," he decided.
There. Talking to his brother had helped.
Kate yawned and stretched in bed, a smile playing about her lips. She hadn't slept so well in ages. And she hadn't ever woken up feeling so great. She was so relaxed, so sated. Blinking in surprise, she realized it was true—she felt sated. Her body was a happy body, all warm and ready to do whatever she wanted.
Getting up, she got into the shower. It wasn't until she was humming and washing herself, running soap over her body, that she recalled the dream. Her hands slowed, her eyes dilating as the memories crowded in: Lucern caressing her, suckling her breasts, thrusting his body into hers.
A tingling drew her gaze down to her breasts, and she let her hands drop with embarrassment as she realized she'd unconsciously been caressing them. Her nipples were hard and erect. Even worse, she could feel the wetness building between her legs, and it had nothing to do with the shower at her back. Turning into the spray, she braced her hands on the shower wall beneath the nozzle head and allowed the water to pour across her body. But the dream didn't fade away—it was the most vivid she could ever recall having.
For one minute, Kate was afraid that it hadn't been a dream, that it had really happened and just seemed like a dream because she had been sleepy. But then she shook her head at the silly thought. If it had really happened, she would have wanted kisses, and he hadn't kissed her once. Kate would have grabbed him by a handful of hair and dragged his mouth to hers if necessary, but she would have had kisses. She liked kisses.
No, it hadn't happened, she thought, giggling as relief poured through her. It had just been an amazingly sexy dream. A wet dream.
Laughing at herself, Kate finished her shower and stepped out to dry herself. Dream or not, she felt great. She was also feeling rather benevolent toward her host for the pleasure of the dream. It didn't matter that he'd had nothing to do with it; he'd been the star of the dream, and in that dream he had given her great pleasure. Yep. He was a swell guy.