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CHAPTER1
Devin
I sighwhen I wake up drenched in sweat the next morning, my body tighter than an overwound watch. Dragging myself up, my eyes gritty as fuck, I walk into the bathroom and stare at the image of me in the mirror. Dark, soft eyes and long, dark hair tangled around my head. Dark shadows painted under the pale skin of my eyes. And the scent of my arousal thick in the tiny bathroom.
Just another night. Just another long, torturous night. I splash cold water on my face and head out to the kitchen, my steps faltering as I stare at the photo on my mantel. The man I promised to love, honor and cherish all the days of our lives.
Except that promise didn’t last into our old age like we promised each other. It barely made it two years before Chris died in a car accident on his way to work.
That was six years ago. Six very long, lonely years where I’ve merely seemed to exist. I sure as hell haven’t done anything enjoyable for the last few years.
Which is what makes the dream so odd. I haven’t been with anyone since my husband died and I’m not looking to find anyone new. As far as I’m concerned that side of my life died with my husband. There’s no way that I have any interest in any other man.
My twinging lower body heats my cheeks and I stumble internally over the lie.
But I don’t have time to deal with it right now. My doorbell rings and I hurry to the door to yank it open. “I’m sorry, Micah. I’ve been so busy today. I’m not ready. You can go on without me if you need to.”
He shakes his dark head and shuts the door, a smirk tilting his firm lips. “This is par for the course with you and you know it. You’re never on time.”
I shoot him an impatient look, stalking out of the room, my body heating when I feel his eyes on me.
What the fuck?
I’ve never felt like this around him. We’re just friends. Good friends. The best friends even. But only that.
“So why do you look like you’re about to have an anxiety attack, baby?” Micah calls from the other room.
“Oh…you know. Just the usual. Work and the kids and all that kind of stuff.” I pull a sweater over my head, my voice muffled briefly by the soft, lush fabric.
“I call bullshit. Something’s going on with you and I want to know what it is.”
I squeak as his deep, gravelly voice gets louder and he slams the door open. My heart jumps in my chest and I fight to catch my breath, my hand touching my throat. His dark eyes follow the movement and it feels like his heated gaze is a burning touch to my body. Electricity sparks but I tamp it down.
Friends. Just friends.I scramble to come up with anything believable while Micah stalks me across my bedroom and I back away from him, watching his eyes light up with a predatory look that confuses me.
“Ummm. Micah? What’s going on? You never come back here.”
He glances around and his firm lips twist as he gets his first look at my inner sanctum. “Very you, princess.”
And it is. After Chris died I wallowed in my grief for awhile and then I began to purge that room of all traces of my husband. It just hurt too much to sleep where he slept with me for so many years. Where we loved and laughed and just enjoyed being together. That was over and I had to move forward eventually.
So instead of the darker masculine tones we had that Chris loved, I made it my space. The one where I could relax and decompress after a hard day’s work with the kids.
Don’t get me wrong. I love working with the kids. Fourth graders are a mischievous lot. Not quite ready to be more than young children but starting to move towards their independence. Shape their thoughts and feelings into the wonderful people they’ll be when they grow up.
It’s fun to watch. Usually. But right now, I’m struggling with so many emotions. It’s like a kaleidoscope of colors crashing together and reshaping themselves into something new every five freaking seconds. I’m just not sure what’s going on. But the lack of sleep from the dreams is really getting to me.
When I glance up into Micah’s sharp features, a wave of need hits my body. Flashes of the dreams I’ve been having come at me like an incoming storm and I realize that one of the men in my dreams seems familiar. His dark eyes feel like Micah’s. But that’s not possible. How many times do I have to say it. We’re just friends.
He stalks me across the room and I back into a wall with a brightly-colored landscape that rattles when I hit the hard surface. His big hands come up on either side of my head and all of a sudden I can’t breathe. My lungs freeze, my heart stops. Time literally seems to stand still when I lick my lips and Micah’s ebony gaze follows my tongue darting out to wet my dry lips.
He leans down and into me, his warmth caressing me, surrounding me. His soft lips brush my ear and my eyes shut painfully tight. It feels like my body is about to erupt into a fiery wreck with him standing over me. My pussy clenches, my thighs slamming together when I feel my panties wet.
“I want an answer now, Dev. Tell me what’s going on?” I shiver when his warm breath touches my overheated skin.
“I-I don’t know. I keep having these dreams and I can’t remember most of them and what I do remember is so strange. So unlike me. But it makes me crazy and I want it. At least I think I do,” my voice breaks as I blurt out the truth.
He doesn’t back away, his deep gaze locked on mine like a magnet is pulling us together. “Tell me about it, baby girl. The dream I mean.”
