I’d had such a vivid dream, which started the same way it always did. Standing in the doorway, a man approaching me from behind, not sure he was there until I could hear his footsteps on the wood floor. My skin buzzed, feeling how very near this man, this dark lover was, standing now just behind me.
He pressed his nose just below my ear, making me arch into what I hoped was him, but was only empty air. But he was still there, his lips now grazing the same skin, whispering into my ear my name. “Vivian. Sweet, sweet Vivian,” he said, a voice so very deep. Deep, like I was longing for him to be inside of me, filling me up with hot, frantic love.
“How long have you been waiting for me? Mmm, your skin is intoxicating. I wonder if your taste will be as sweet as your scent? he murmured, now letting me feel the entirety of his body, molding me to him. Hard, so very hard, and not just the planes of his chest and the iron of his thighs. He was hard for me. Against me, and hopefully soon, finally inside me. I struggled to turn, to see, to touch, but as always he held me facing away.
Yet tonight he went further than he had before, his strong hands tearing the silken gown from my heated skin and letting his palms roam freely across my bare body. Still held hostage against his body, caged in by his powerful arms, I soon found myself pressed against the wall, his hands placing mine above my head, pulling my hips out, making me ready for him.
But not for his impressive erection. No, not yet. My dark lover teased and taunted my breasts, lightly pulling at my tender flesh, letting his fingertips bring my nipples to a hardened peak, swirling and dancing across the sensitive tips.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked, then dragged his tongue across my nape. I could feel his soft hair as it followed the path his mouth was taking, down down down. Across my shoulder blades, dipping into the hollow between each vertebrae, then finally coming to rest in the small of my back, his teeth gently nipping at the dimple just above my bottom.
His hands? They’d left my breasts, which were full and infinitely heavy as I arched my back, seeking his attention once more. But his hands were on a southern trajectory, and as they began to explore my innermost secrets, my moans and groans begged him to take me, to push me past this threshold that began to border on pain, the need to be inhabited by him was so great.
“Not so fast, Vivian. You’ve no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he whispered, parting me. And then suddenly his heated breath was no longer at my back. The insides of my thighs were tickled by his silky hair, and my knees threatened to give way. I looked down as his hands gently but insistently urged my legs farther apart . . . and then, his kisses. Oh, his kisses!
Starting on the backs of my knees, they began to ascend the backs of my thighs, moving steadily inward. His face was still concealed, still hidden. And then?
He put his mouth on me. Glorious. Rapturous. Erotic. Inescapably wanton.
My world stopped—and then started up again, as though anew. As I kept my hands on the wall for support, my cries of passion tumbled toward him. Only a shock of hair was visible in the low light as he buried his mouth between my thighs. I shook and shivered, and as my eyes began to close, I forced them open. I had to see him.
“Vivian,” that dark voice rolled through me. “You taste as decadent as I dreamed you would.” And just as he began to lift his head and open his eyes—
I awoke.
“Dammit!” I screamed, punching the pillow.
I didn’t sleep again that night.
So when Friday dawn arrived? I was one cranky Viv.
chapter fourteen
Caroline was due to arrive at 10:30 a.m. Since Simon was on location in Mexico, she’d planned on spending the night before heading back into the city. I was glad to have my first houseguest; the quilts were clean and the pillows were plumped.
As I waited, I was still shaken by my dream. Part of me was so angry that I’d almost gotten to see his face, yet another part of me was terrified to see it. Not seeing it meant it was still just a fantasy. A fantasy with the fastest tongue in the West, but a fantasy nonetheless.
Both the librarian and the cowboy had been scarce this week. I hadn’t seen Hank once, but I’d seen evidence that he’d been around. Paula was out in the pasture with Paul, the chickens were fed. His tire tracks in the mud after a rainstorm. And of course we know why Clark hadn’t been around.
“This project has already taken up enough of my time,” he’d said, then left me with a secured tarp and a frown. I’d thought that he’d cave, and Nighttime Clark would call. But both Nighttime Clark and more persnickety Daytime Clark had steered clear all week. He’d finally be here today.
Nervous? Nah. The pacing is my usual cool, calm, and collected self.
The smartest little Mercedes convertible I’d ever seen came up the drive, and Caroline stopped next to the house. “Hey, girl,” she called out with a grin. “This house just gets better and better each time I see it.”