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“You drew…me.”
“Well,yeah.” I scrubbed my eyes with both hands at the insanity of holding a conversation with someone who could vaporize himself into bugs at will. “I drew it after last night’s visit. Ordream. You make quite an impression, to say the least.”
Ambri’s brow furrowed again. “Of course, I do. I’m a remarkable subject.”
“A couple wanted to buy one off me, but I said no.”
“Because you’re drowning in lavish luxury and riches?”
I didn’t want to part with you.
“I have my reasons.” I crossed my arms. “What kind of name is Ambri, anyway?”
“It’s Latin, meaning: a pitiful attempt to change the subject.”
He closed the sketchbook and moved toward me to return it to the nightstand. My space was filled with his nearness again, his heat, his power that was doing exactly as he stated—drawing my loneliness to the surface. I dug my fingers into my arms, trying to keep myself present. I had to be dreaming and yet I’d never felt more awake. My body felt attuned to Ambri, nerve endings keyed up. My hands wanted to touch him…
I cleared my throat. “I’ve never heard of a name like yours. How did my imagination make it up? Or the beetles or the wings? How did it make up any of this? It’s all craziness, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps.” Ambri returned to the chair and pulled it close, so that our knees were practically touching. “Perhaps you’ve conjured me to alleviate a little of that stress that’s coursing through your veins instead of blood.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” His grin turned suggestive.
Christ.
Being in Ambri’s presence was like trying to stay sober while downing shot after shot of the richest liquor. “What do youactuallywant from me?”
“I believe I made my intentions clear.” He glanced at the pillow still covering my erection. “As have you.”
“I mean, if you’re a figment of my imagination, then I created you. Everything about you is something in me that’s trying to get out. So what is it? My career failures? Self-doubt? Loneliness?”
“Do you know what your problem is, Cole Matheson? You think too much.”
I watched, hypnotized, as Ambri slid out of the chair to kneel in front of me. His hands—elegant and long-fingered—rested on each of my knees and began to slide up my thighs, over the thin material of my pajama pants. He gently removed the pillow from my lap and set it aside. Then his hands were back on my legs, his thumbs making circles along my inner thigh, inches from my cock that strained to be free, to be touched. The sudden urge to see Ambri naked ignited in me like a flare from the dark wasteland of deprivation I’d exiled myself. But was this really happening? I was dreaming this man who sometimes had wings and kept pet beetles up his sleeve?
Ambri’s hands moved higher, reached for the tie on my pants.
“I can’t,” I said in a strangled voice. “I don’t do this. I don’t just…fuck random strangers. Dream or no dream.”
“Who said anything about fucking?”
“Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“You tell me. What do youwant?”
Him, naked. His mouth wrapped around my cock. My hand in his hair, holding him there while he sucked and licked…
Desperately, I clung to myself. “No. This is madness. I can’t. We shouldn’t… Get your hands off me.
“If you insist.”
He lifted his hands from my thighs, and I immediately regretted it. I wanted the heat and weight of them—someone else’s touch—on my skin. I swallowed, practically dizzy for want of him.
He studied my reaction and smiled like a satisfied cat. “I don’t need to touch you to make you come,” he said. “Relax, Cole Matheson, and let me have you.”
Ambri wasn’t asking me to relax but to surrender. I hesitated for another second, but the power in him was wearing me down. Iwantedto want him. The desire to submit to him was my own hunger. It infused me like a drug. Heat and heavy need moved through my veins.
