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I finally manage to pry my lips apart and my mouth instantly floods with the taste of something coppery. I whimper against my dream man’s open mouth and he does exactly the same thing, a deep, masculine sound that comes from the back of his throat.
“I want to fuck you, Trine. I want to feel how tight and hot your little pussy is,“ he says and my core clenches at his words. “And I want to own you.“
“Own me?“
“Yes,“ he says. “I want to own all of you; your body, your soul, everything about you.“
I want that too. I want him to own me, to tell me what to do, what to wear, what to say. It would be so fucking easy. I wouldn’t have to do any of this; I wouldn’t have to go back home, I wouldn’t need to think about any of this ever again.
I would go back to my apartment in Orlando and forget about all of this. It would be so nice…so simple.
Then something soft and cold presses against my rib, where the man’s hand is, and I’m startled away, the room around me dark and the man in my bed the one I went to sleep with.
“Trine,“ he says, his voice soft.
“What?“
“Are you okay?“ he asks, his voice coated with sleep.
“I’m fine,“ I say. “Why? Was I thrashing around or something? I know I’m not a fun person to sleep with.“
“No. It’s not that,“ he says. “You didn’t do anything, I just…“
I look at his eyes, dark gold in the dim light coming off the perfectly ordinary alarm clock behind him. “What is it, then?“
“Nothing,“ he says. “But you can talk to me if you want to. I’m here to listen.“
“There’s nothing to talk about. Just a weird dream. Sorry if I startled you awake.“
He shakes his head, his brow knitted in concern. “You didn’t wake me,“ he says in a whisper. “I wokeyouup. Trine, you were screaming.“
REI
Iget up early in the morning and go down to the lobby, grabbing a copy of a newspaper on the way to the open Starbucks. The hotel is surprisingly nice for just stopping somewhere on the road. I could read the news on my phone, but something about holding a newspaper in my hands reminds me of home and I always think my father would get a kick out of it.
I grimace as my eyes skim over an article about how terrible things are right now, wondering if I should call my parents before we get to Trine’s mom’s house. I usually call them on the weekend, but something about seeing how much Trine doesn’t want to see her mother makes me miss them. I’ve been away from home for nearly fifteen years now and every time I see them, it feels like such a privilege.
Still, I understand that my experience isn’t like Trine’s, and it’s definitely not like Misha’s. It didn’t take a genius to guess that Trine would need someone to talk to, and of course she was going to go with the one who she thought got it. It was probably going to end with sex–neither one of them is naive, so they probably both knew that from the outset.
I’m a little jealous, but mostly, I’m just concerned. I hope it helped her. It’s clear to me that she’s on the edge, and anything could tip her over. When that happens, I don’t have a clue how she’ll react.
When someone is pushed too far, there’s no predicting how they’ll react. I can make an educated guess, but that’s all it is. A guess. And I don’t want to see Trine like that, not if I can help it.
I barely look up from the newspaper when I hear footsteps coming toward me.
“Mornin’,“ Luke says, his voice groggy from sleep, a foam cup in his hands.
I tip my own foam cup toward him. “Hey,“ I say. “How did you sleep?“
He rubs his eye as he sits down noisily next to me. “Like shit. Did you…“
I pick up my head to look at him, and his dark blue eyes look black. There are shadows under them and he looks a lot less put together than he normally does, his dark hair brushed away from his face hastily and the shadow of a beard on his face. He’s wearing a blue button-up shirt with rolled up sleeves that just shows the edge of his rosary bead tattoo. He normally keeps it totally hidden, so this seems like an odd oversight.
“What are you looking at?“ he asks, trailing off, and I curse myself for staring. Clearly, I also didn’t sleep well.
“Nothing,“ I say. “You just look tired.“
“Thanks. So do you.“
