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MINKA
The soft sounds of some television show play in one corner of my dreams. I hear it, but I also dream of sweeter things. People. Feelings. Music on the breeze, and touch.
Warm touch.
I lay cocooned in a blanket, wrapped tight enough to feel like a hug, and when I try to turn over, it doesn’t hurt the way I expected it would.
It feels like warm, fluffy clouds, and ecstasy-esque pleasure as gentle fingers stroke my bare flesh beneath the blanket.
“Relax.” His voice penetrates my dreams. Then his gentle caress. “Go back to sleep, baby. You’re fine.”
“Time is it?”
“Eleven.” The blanket cocoon grows tighter, and the warmth wrapping me close grows hotter. But then lips stop on my forehead, and gentle breath feathers my hair. “You still have ages before it’s time to wake up again.”
“Louisa?”
A fast exhalation of air tickles my skin. “She’s safe now. You sleep, Minka. Tomorrow, we’ll work.”
“ ’Kay.”
My eyes have remained closed, so I simply snuggle in and wrap my arm across the broad body my dreams convince me belongs to Archer Malone.
Damn that bastard for infiltrating my subconscious the way he has.
* * *
My bladder aches, and my eyes reject the idea of opening. Television lights flash through my eyelids, threatening a headache if I open them. But I have to pee, and the longer I leave it, the more I’ll wake up.
Once I’m up, I won’t be able to get back to sleep.
Clamping my eyes shut—an easy feat, considering they don’t want to open—I attempt to shove my blankets aside, only to be pinned by a commanding hand that makes me smile.
If I was truly awake, no way would I be grinning.
“What are you doing?” His voice is soft in the muted darkness. Gravelly and rough, but gentle when he speaks to me. “Are you okay?”
“Gotta pee.” I push Archer’s hand off my hip and stumble off my bed. My legs ache, my knees rebel against having to move. But I’m still asleep enough to ignore the pain.
I hobble into the hall and stop in the bathroom, only to discover I’m all but naked as I try to strip my bottom half off so I can sit and pee. Where I expected to find pyjama pants, I find only panties.
While I sit and relieve myself, I blindly run my hands along my abdomen, expecting to find a tank top. Instead, I find bare skin and a sports bra.
“Strange.”
“Are you okay?” Archer’s voice passes through the door I partially closed. “Minka?”
“Shhh…”
I reach to my left and snag a little toilet paper. After cleaning up, I stand again, my eyes still closed, my sleep clutching to my consciousness and allowing me to float. I pull my panties up, flush, and stumble blindly toward the sink to wash my hands. Moving into the hall again, I sigh when strong hands wrap around my hips and lead me back toward my room.
The warm bed greets me. Then powerful arms wrap around me. I shift my leg to rest across Archer’s hips, and drop my lips to his chest. Because this is a dream, and for as long as it lasts, I can pretend he’s here and there are no consequences to my actions.
And by actions, I mean the fact I’m snuggling into the enemy and pretending I don’t feel something click in my heart every single time I remind myself he’s the enemy.
“Goodnight, Archer.”
“Minka?” His pulse thunders under my ear, while his fingers stroke my skin. “Babe? Can you hear me?”
