Page 59 of One Night Only
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I shiver as a hand slides up my thigh, pausing briefly to squeeze my hip before continuing its journey along my arm, gentle and teasing. Infuriating. I squirm beneath him, trying to increase the pressure, to show him what I want, but he just laughs, a low, knowing chuckle that only intensifies the ache inside as he holds himself above me, just out of reach.
“Sarah.”
I want to touch him. But I can’t. My hands are heavy, weighted to the mattress like the rest of me. I know if I could just turn my head, I could kiss him, I could tell him to cut the crap before I lose it completely.
I try to speak, try to make a sound, but it’s like I’m underwater. And when I open my mouth only a soft, pining noise comes from me, almost a mewl as I—
“Sarah.”
I wake with a gasp as my alarm trills. The soothing sound of chirping birds turns not so soothing as they get louder and louder in my ear, threatening to screech unless I turn them off. But I don’t move. I can’t move. I can’t yet separate my dream world from reality, can’t fully grasp that the sheets beside me are cool and empty and not warm and full of a hard body that…
Oh my God.
I reach blindly for my phone, shutting off the damn birds, and scramble into a sitting position. My sheets are kicked to the bottom of the bed, tangled around my feet and there’s a small patch of drool on my pillow. I stare at it in distaste. I’m not usually a drooler. Then again, I’m not usually a dreamer either.
So what the hell wasthat?
“This is me making sure you’re up,” Claire calls, knocking on my door. “You up?” She sticks her head inside when I don’t answer and frowns at the sight of me still in bed. “We’re going for a run.”
“Just give me a minute.” I clear my throat as my voice comes out in a rasp.
Her eyes narrow. “Are you ill?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“You look like you woke up in someone else’s body.”
Or with someone else’s body.
“Huh?”
I refocus on her, too confused to be embarrassed. “Did I say that out loud?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
I’ve been asking myself that for weeks. “I think I just had a sex dream.”
Her mouth drops open as she steps inside, our gym plan instantly forgotten. “Shut up. I never have dirty dreams. Was it about the guy downstairs? The one with the dog?”
“I don’t even know who that is.”
“I had a dream about Mark once, but it was just him telling me what a good job I was doing and then he bought me a goldfish. Who was yours?”
“No one,” I lie, rubbing the sleep from my eye. “Just a guy.”
“Did you…” Claire trails off, her voice dropping even though it’s just the two of us. “You know.”
“No,” I say firmly.
“You look a little flustered is all.”
I clap my hands to my cheeks, feeling the tell-tale flush as I glare at her, but Claire doesn’t seem to notice.
