Page 77 of Dream Weaver

A smart aleck answer popped into my head, then vaporized when she switched from stroking down to up. Slowly. Agonizingly, deliciously, brutally slowly, in the best possible way.

When she switched again, I croaked. “You’re killing me there.”

“Want me to stop?” Her cocky tone said she had her money onno.

She would be right. This was the kind of death a guy could die a thousand times, with no complaints.

“Don’t you dare.”

She laughed, stretching out her next stroke. “I did warn you about my wicked ways.”

“Wait till I get my turn.”

Her breath hitched, and I felt her pulse skip.

Just wait,my bear vowed, and I grinned.

“I’ll look forward to that,” Abby assured me. “But first…”

She changed direction, moving a little faster.

My breath rattled as I rocked against her hand.

My eyes were closed, but I imagined ribbons of fire twisting around us like a cage. Or maybesanctuarywas a better word, because I never wanted to leave. All around me, flames pulsed, danced, and swayed.

Then my bear growled, and I grabbed Abby’s hand to stop her.

“As I see it, we have a few choices,” I said, panting hard.

Abby’s eyes sparkled. “Other than what we’re doing right now?”

“More like where,” I managed.

I’d been dreaming of this moment for too long to let it all go by in a rush. But sex was like a wildfire. It dictated its own pace, and sometimes, all you could do was go along for the ride.

“Like what kind of where?”

I took it as a good sign that her sentence structure was off. My mind was just as incapable of coherent thought.

“Like a bed, maybe?”

“Overrated.” She reached for me impatiently.

Still, I held her back.

She made an exasperated sound. “For the first time in years, I have a night off — and a guy I want. Ineed.” Her voice cracked, and she tilted her head to the right. “Seriously. We could do it on that workbench for all I care.”

Which was exactly where we found ourselves seconds later, feasting in an entirely different way. Abby perched on the edge of a workbench that was the perfect height — for more than just pounding metal, as it turned out. While I moved the candlesaside, she’d stripped out of her lower layers, lightning-fast, and even done a contortion act inside her shirt.

“Here.” She handed me her bra and lay back.

I chuckled. “My teenage fantasy just came true…about fifteen years too late.”

Then she winced. “I don’t suppose your teenage fantasy comes with condoms, does it?”

“As a matter of fact…”

I tore myself away from her long enough to riffle through my wallet. The condom had been in there, untouched, for a long time. I’d had plenty of offers to use it, but none of those women had really tempted me. But now…

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