Before I Ever Met You

I have to be.

I’m hiking through a jungle in the dark. Only a sliver of moonlight is breaking through the tops of the canopies, illuminating the leaf-strewn floor in cuts of silver and white.

I’m barefoot, in shorts and a tank top. The air is rich, as warm as an embrace.

I’m alone.

At least I think I am. I keep hearing a soft breath at my back, but I can’t turn around. My dream holds me captive, makes my limbs feel like lead. I can only move forward on the dark and twisting trail, while the presence behind me gets closer and closer.

I can feel the heat of the person, the man, at my back. As I walk, the mud squishing between my toes, branches reach out and caress my skin, as tender as a lover’s hands.

The path rises until the trees drop away and I am on the top of a razor-backed ridge. The world seems to fall away, leaving no distance between me and the stars, the ocean a blanket at my feet.

The back of my neck tingles as the heat intensifies.

I suck in my breath with a startled gasp as hot breath skirts over my skin.

The man is behind me. I can’t see him but I can feel him.

I can feel all of him.

He presses himself against me, slowly, deliberately, as his hands wrap around my elbows, holding me back. His erection is hard against the top of my ass, and even though I’m dreaming, I’m calculating how tall he must be. His grip is strong, everything about him radiates strength.

He doesn’t talk—he doesn’t need to.

This is a man I know, a man who belongs to me. He can do whatever he wants and I want him to do whatever he can.

I close my eyes as one of his hands lets go of my elbow and roughly moves up to my hair. He makes a tight fist, yanking my head to the side, exposing my neck. His lips are both hard and soft as they press against my skin, his teeth nipping gently.

I want him harder and the response is automatic. He bites my neck, hard enough for pain to wash over me, the hand in my hair yanking me back, pulling at the strands. It’s a sharp ache and I want more of it. He pushes further against me and his breath is hot and ragged at my ear, like some kind of primal beast.

I’m going to give it to you hard, so fucking hard, his voice says, sliding inside my brain, a voice I feel more than hear. Starting now.

Suddenly I’m on my knees, sinking into the mud. My shorts are slipped down over my ass, my head is pushed forward until I have to put my hands out to brace myself.

He lowers himself behind me. The heat of his body is unbearable. I know he’s naked, that he’s just inches from my ass. I want to twist around and see him in all his glory, stare at his cock, take it all in, but I can’t turn. I can’t do anything but wriggle in anticipation. The moon starts to glow purple, pulsing like the heat between my legs.

How long have you wanted me? He asks gruffly, the accent fading in and out. How long have you dreamed of this?

How long have you? I want to ask but my mouth doesn’t move, and I’m not sure if my thoughts reach him as his reach me. Every inch of me is coiled in waiting and it’s then I know that as I sleep, my body in my bed is just as tensed up.

A rough hand glides over my ass before smacking it. One cheek. The other.

Crack.

CRACK.

His fingers glide down over the raw skin, down to where I’m wet and open.

They slide in with ease and I let out a moan, arching my back, wanting more.

So much more.

You may want to be quiet, he says as he reaches over and covers my mouth with his hand. No one can know but us. It will only ever be between us.

I don’t want to listen to what he’s saying. He’s speaking truth and truth has no place in a dream.

In fact, I can feel it start to pull me out. Awareness trickles in at the corners of the frame.

I fight against it. Keep my eyes closed, willing myself to succumb back into the moment.

“Please,” I manage to mutter against his hot palm.

How long have you wanted me? His voice is nearly a growl, rumbling inside my brain.

“Since the moment I met you.”

Will you stay quiet?

I nod but his hand tightens over my mouth.

He leans forward until his lips are at my ear. His teeth graze my lobe.

It should have been you, Veronica.

I feel the hard tip of his cock sliding over my wetness.

Logan pulls back slightly and I brace myself for him to slam inside me.

But the dream fades away, the sensation falling off like rain.

I’m barely awake but I’m turned on as hell, my hand between my legs, that half-conscious state where you’re aching to return to something your conscious mind would disown you over.

I drift off to sleep.

But I don’t dream again.



* * *





* * *



“Hawaii lesson number one,” a voice says, breaking into the inky darkness. For a moment I think I’m back in Chicago at my parent’s house, snoozing in the guest bedroom and maybe I fell asleep with the radio on.

But then it all comes back to me. Hawaii.

The dream.

Logan.

I lick my lips and groan, my hands skimming over my body, everything damp. Dear lord, did I sweat my way through that sex dream?

“When you leave the door open all night, you’ll wake up wet,” the voice goes on.

I slowly open my eyes, blinking hard at the light.

“And that’s not innuendo,” the voice adds.

A shadow passes over me and Kate’s face comes into focus.

Right. My new roommate.

Who looks like she wants to murder me.

“What?” I mumble and try to sit up, my head super swimmy. The light streaming in through the shades has this soft, airy quality to it, making me think it’s early in the morning.

Kate puts her hands on her slender hips and jerks her head to the screen door. “You left the door open all night.”

Did I? I barely remember doing anything. I mean I’m still wearing my clothes from yesterday. Thankfully. Because I half expected to wake up with my shorts half-off, my hand in my underwear.

“It was hot,” I tell her, my throat parched.

“You’ll get used to it,” she says, strutting out of the room. She’s wearing the tiniest boy shorts and I find myself both admiring her tiny, peach-shaped ass and envying it. No way I’m walking around like that. I have something called a booty and cellulite.

“But,” she continues, her voice coming from the kitchen, “it’s so hella humid here that everything will be soaked overnight. It will take days for our sheets to feel close to normal again.”

I sit up and run my hands over them. She’s right. They’re almost sticky.

“Sorry,” I tell her, feeling like a total boob. “Won’t happen again.”

“Oh I know. We always learn.”

I sigh, swinging my feet over the edge of the bed.