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Once was all she needed.
And then her mobile rang.
* * *
Luke could hear the chiming of a bell and the woman from his dream faded from sight altogether as his subconscious pulled him back through the layers of sleep.
He came out slowly, groggily, completely disorientated, his brain cells still heavily mired in fatigue. The sunny room wasn’t remotely familiar, the ocean sounds weren’t familiar, the smell of salt and apple blossom weren’t familiar.
He shifted slightly, struggling out from the steely tendrils of his dream. Where were the heavy blackout curtains, the traffic noise, the smell of percolating coffee?
None of it was familiar.
The weight of something warm and distinctly female filled his hand and he squeezed tentatively.
The breast was definitely not familiar. The last time he’d woken to a woman in his bed it had been his wife and she washed her hair with expensive shampoo that smelled like designer perfume, not sweet and fresh like apples.
He pulled away, his hand releasing the breast, his leg sliding off the woman’s thighs as it all came rushing back.
‘Claude?’
Claudia lay frozen for a few seconds; her phone blaring out ‘Summer Nights’ from Grease alerted her to the fact it was Avery calling. Her friend was probably wondering where the hell she’d got to.
Just lying on my bed letting Luke grope me in his sleep.
Sheesh!
Claudia didn’t answer him or even look back as she snatched up the phone and scrambled off the bed, keeping her back firmly turned on Luke.
‘Hi, Avery,’ she said chirpily as she picked up the call.
Luke half sat in the bed, his eyes on her back as the memory of Claudia’s—Claude’s!—breast, her very erect nipple, burnt a hole in his palm. He might have been only semi-awake but he’d been fully aware of its arousal, and that was going to be impossible to forget. Especially with his hard-on pressing insistently against the zipper of his trousers. He wanted desperately to adjust it but there was no way he was touching himself with her right there—back turned or not.
He slid off the bed on the opposite side, not really paying any attention to what Avery and Claude were talking about. He needed some space. Some distance.
For adjusting.
For thinking.
For mental flagellation.
Luke stalked to the open balcony door and stepped gratefully through the curtains and out into the sunshine, easing things inside his underwear as best he could. The harsh sunlight blinded him a little and he squinted against it, raising his arm to block it out.
The ocean was still flat and listless, swishing quietly against the sand, and he took several deep breaths of salty air, filling his lungs with sand and ocean, cleansing it of London smog, wishing it were as easy to cleanse his brain. Erase the memory of Claudia all warm and soft, her nipple stiff and ready.
He turned his back to the vista, the brightness too much for his tired eyes. He shut them but then the edges of his dream fluttered seductively in the periphery of his mind and his eyes snapped open as his erection surged again.
Crap.
What had he done?
He shook his head. No. He’d been having a normal male physiological response to an erotic dream and Claudia just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Nothing more, nothing less.
For God’s sake, they’d grown up practically siblings.
She was like the kid sister he’d never had. Following him around. Getting into all kinds of mischief and strife with him. Sometimes bratty, always devoted. There’d never been anything between them.
He’d never felt anything other than brotherly towards her.
Except the heat in his palm didn’t feel very brotherly. The memory of her softness, of her hardness, felt pretty damn carnal.
Which begged the question—why hadn’t they ever got together? Never had a fling? Never even shared a quick teenage pash? It made sense with their proximity. Of course, she’d been sixteen and he’d been twenty-one when he’d left over eleven years ago but there’d been plenty of times since.
Hell, the only time they’d kissed that didn’t revolve around a hello/goodbye was on New Year’s Eve—and that had never been anything other than a quick chaste peck on the cheek.
‘I have to go,’ Claudia said, stepping briskly out on the balcony in a very businesslike manner, tucking her shirt into her awful polyester capris. But Luke wasn’t fooled. She forgot he knew her better than anyone and she was as flummoxed as he was about the whole groping situation.
‘I’m sorry...about before,’ he said. Luke knew there was only one way to really deal with what had occurred on her bed.
The same way he dealt with everything.
