roommate in college had looked when she sleepwalked. The dream had him in a powerful grip. She couldnât let him battle it out any longer.
âBrad.â She approached the bed, reaching out to touch the bare expanse of his chest. âWake up.â
His skin burned even though the house remained cool after the sun went down. Fever?
His hand locked around her wrist, eyes open but unseeing as he turned toward her. His hold was tight and unrelenting, her arm captured at an awkward angleuntil she lowered herself to the bed beside him. Her crisp cotton nightgown rode up her thigh and she shifted awkwardly to stay covered. She hadnât given a thought to what she was wearing when sheâd leapt out of bed, the lightweight cotton and Battenberg lace providing little coverage.
âThey shouldnât be here,â he told her, his voice softer but no less urgent.
âYouâre sleeping,â she assured him, flexing her fingers against his chest to increase the pressureâto get through that foggy barrier where dreams seemed so real. âYouâre at my house. Nikkiâs.â
The sound of her name finally had a noticeable effect. The ragged breathing slowed. His eyes cleared by degrees, revealing a tortured shade of blue.
âAre you okay?â She kept her hand on his chest, thinking she might be all that anchored him to the here and now. âBad dream?â
He shook his head. But she didnât take that to mean ânoâ so much as that he had no intention of speaking about whatever had just happened.
âBut maybe if you talked about itââ
âI canât.â The words were harsh, but there was such starkness behind them that she couldnât possibly take offense.
âIs there anything I can do?â She didnât know how to help when she didnât know what was wrong. But the tension and raw emotion hung in the air even if he didnât have one word to say about them.
His gaze narrowed as he finally gave her his full attention. Somehow, heâd shaken off the dream for at least that moment. His nostrils flared. His lips parted.She thought he would speak, but instead he loosened his grip on her wrist, his thumb soothing the place where his fingers had been the moment before.
âNikki,â he said finally. âKiss me.â
Her heart did a kind of stop, drop and roll in her chest. He was obviously upset. And it was clear he didnât want to talk about it. He needed something else from her right now.
The intimacy of being on this futon with him, the sheets tangled around his legs so badly that it was very evident he wore a pair of boxers and no more, suddenly seemed very unwise. Hadnât she run from this moment just a couple of hours ago?
But she was right back here, inches away from a guy whoâd dominated her fantasies for over a week. And he needed her.
Whether or not he could articulate it in so many words, she understood that much.
âItâs not a date,â Brad whispered, so close that his jaw brushed her cheek while he spoke into her ear. âJust a kiss.â
The open windows ushered in the scent of honeysuckle, the fragrance that reminded her of those nights when sheâd peered in through his window at this very chest. Those nights, when heâd been wrapped in a haphazard towel, and sheâd seen the vee of dark hair pointing a path down his abs.
Now, hypnotized by a man far more complicated than sheâd imagined, stuck in this moment that felt more like a dream, Nikki couldnât imagine why a sane woman would say no to a kiss. It wasnât a date. It wasnât a relationship.
He needed her kiss and she wanted to give him one heâd never, ever forget.
âOkay. But you gave me the last one. Iâm in charge this time.â
His touch skimmed up her arm to the loose sleeve of her nightgown, reminding her she wore precious little in the way of clothes, too. Her breasts
âBrad.â She approached the bed, reaching out to touch the bare expanse of his chest. âWake up.â
His skin burned even though the house remained cool after the sun went down. Fever?
His hand locked around her wrist, eyes open but unseeing as he turned toward her. His hold was tight and unrelenting, her arm captured at an awkward angleuntil she lowered herself to the bed beside him. Her crisp cotton nightgown rode up her thigh and she shifted awkwardly to stay covered. She hadnât given a thought to what she was wearing when sheâd leapt out of bed, the lightweight cotton and Battenberg lace providing little coverage.
âThey shouldnât be here,â he told her, his voice softer but no less urgent.
âYouâre sleeping,â she assured him, flexing her fingers against his chest to increase the pressureâto get through that foggy barrier where dreams seemed so real. âYouâre at my house. Nikkiâs.â
The sound of her name finally had a noticeable effect. The ragged breathing slowed. His eyes cleared by degrees, revealing a tortured shade of blue.
âAre you okay?â She kept her hand on his chest, thinking she might be all that anchored him to the here and now. âBad dream?â
He shook his head. But she didnât take that to mean ânoâ so much as that he had no intention of speaking about whatever had just happened.
âBut maybe if you talked about itââ
âI canât.â The words were harsh, but there was such starkness behind them that she couldnât possibly take offense.
âIs there anything I can do?â She didnât know how to help when she didnât know what was wrong. But the tension and raw emotion hung in the air even if he didnât have one word to say about them.
His gaze narrowed as he finally gave her his full attention. Somehow, heâd shaken off the dream for at least that moment. His nostrils flared. His lips parted.She thought he would speak, but instead he loosened his grip on her wrist, his thumb soothing the place where his fingers had been the moment before.
âNikki,â he said finally. âKiss me.â
Her heart did a kind of stop, drop and roll in her chest. He was obviously upset. And it was clear he didnât want to talk about it. He needed something else from her right now.
The intimacy of being on this futon with him, the sheets tangled around his legs so badly that it was very evident he wore a pair of boxers and no more, suddenly seemed very unwise. Hadnât she run from this moment just a couple of hours ago?
But she was right back here, inches away from a guy whoâd dominated her fantasies for over a week. And he needed her.
Whether or not he could articulate it in so many words, she understood that much.
âItâs not a date,â Brad whispered, so close that his jaw brushed her cheek while he spoke into her ear. âJust a kiss.â
The open windows ushered in the scent of honeysuckle, the fragrance that reminded her of those nights when sheâd peered in through his window at this very chest. Those nights, when heâd been wrapped in a haphazard towel, and sheâd seen the vee of dark hair pointing a path down his abs.
Now, hypnotized by a man far more complicated than sheâd imagined, stuck in this moment that felt more like a dream, Nikki couldnât imagine why a sane woman would say no to a kiss. It wasnât a date. It wasnât a relationship.
He needed her kiss and she wanted to give him one heâd never, ever forget.
âOkay. But you gave me the last one. Iâm in charge this time.â
His touch skimmed up her arm to the loose sleeve of her nightgown, reminding her she wore precious little in the way of clothes, too. Her breasts
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