“Kiss me,” she breathed, the words taunting a foreign memory he couldn’t fully grasp. “Take me, B. Make me fly.”
She was reciting something from her mind that neither of them understood.
However, he was eager to comply.
I have to know,he thought, his opposite hand going to her hip as he used the palm around her neck to pull her into a kiss.
Heat sizzled between them, firing off nerves he’d never touched before. Nerves he’d never realized he owned.Who are you to me?he wondered, his arm encircling Leela’s waist as he pulled her flush against him.
Consume me.The plea hummed through her mind.
He obliged, his tongue parting her lips and delving inside to dance intimately with her own. It was so familiar. So right.A dream riddled in fantasy.
Balthazar struggled for air, uncertain of how to stop, where to go, which way was up or down.
But then he was falling to the mattress with Leela beneath him.
His hands were on her skin, her breasts, his shirt lying in tatters on the floor.A memory or reality?He wasn’t sure. But he had tofeel.
“Balthazar,” Leela moaned, her body arching into his.
Real, he decided, her body hot and sinful beneath his own.
He pulled his mouth away from hers and found the shirt he’d just torn from her body. Except it shifted between shades of white and black.Real and memory. Life and fantasy. Now and a dream.
Her fingernails bit into his shoulders, drawing his focus back to her.
Blonde hair spilling over his black satin sheets. An angel.Hisangel. Lost to the throes of passion, except not quite.
Because she still had on his boxers.
And he was still wearing pants.
This dream required more.
“You were wearing a dress,” he whispered. “White and thin. Silk meant to tempt even the devil himself to fall.”
She’d been beautiful that night, walking through the streets of Venice, laughing, seducing, taunting every man and woman in her wake.
A stunning goddess.
Hisgoddess.
He’d worn a suit of black to counter her white.
A game of sensuality and grace.
They were gods together, wandering the streets… How long ago? Was it real? A dream?
Her lips brushed his, pulling him back into the kiss, his mind melting to the blissful contentment of their embrace.
Fuck, her tits are perfect.
Firm and just the right size.
He kissed a path down her neck to her nipple, taking it into his mouth just like he’d done that night. She moaned, her fingers sliding into his hair to hold him in place, guiding him in that way she favored.
Not that he needed it.
