now I’m talking to myself in my dreams.”
“Talking to yourself?” she asked with confusion.
His eyes opened, a wry half smile twisting his lips. “Well, dreams are supposed to be your subconscious trying to work out things, right? So, really you’re me.”
Ildaria stilled, realizing that he didn’t know that these were shared dreams. G.G. knew about immortals, and she’d assumed that he’d recognize that these were the shared dreams that immortals and their life mates experience. In fact, she’d been waiting for him to comment on them. But apparently he hadn’t yet realized that was what was happening. He thought he was just having sexual dreams about her.
“G.G.,” she began, but paused when he suddenly took her hands in his.
“I’m sorry,” he said glumly. “I know I have to do something about this. I’m becoming obsessed with you to the point that I’m afraid of what I’ll do. Every night when I pick up H.D. I’m fighting the urge to drag you into my arms, strip you naked, and explore every inch of your beautiful body with my tongue.”
Ildaria swallowed, her body responding to the image.
“The only thing stopping me is that you’re my employee, an immortal, obviously not interested, and could easily kick my ass for even trying to kiss you. Never mind the sexual harassment suit,” he added with a wry grimace. “It’s gotten so bad that last night I spent most of my time at work fantasizing about how I could do that for real. Seriously,” he insisted when she blinked in surprise. Then he squeezed her hands almost painfully before dropping them and whirling to stride several steps away. His voice thick with shame, he confessed, “I was actually fantasizing on a way to do it. I thought maybe if I got my hands on blood from someone with Rohypnol in their system, I could knock you out, drag you to my apartment, and chain you to my bed and—” He bowed his head in shame. “I’m losing my mind, Ildaria. I can’t stop thinking about you, and the more I think about you, the more I want to—”
G.G.’s words stopped abruptly as he turned to look at her.
Ildaria stared back, slowly realizing that her view of him had changed. She’d been standing just moments ago, but now was flat on her back. Glancing down, she saw that she was lying on a bed in the middle of the club room, naked and chained. Judging by the slack-jawed expression on G.G.’s face now, he hadn’t put her there. But his admission had. It had turned her on when he’d talked about having her naked and chained to his bed, and her subconscious had changed the dream situation to suit.
“God, I’m turning into a sick bastard,” G.G. breathed, moving toward the bed.
“No. You’re not,” Ildaria whispered. Her heart was thundering in her chest. Her subconscious might have put her there, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable being naked and staked out. In reality, she was equal parts excited, anxious, and embarrassed to be in such a position. But mostly she was uncomfortable. Ildaria wasn’t used to being powerless. Not anymore. She hadn’t felt this helpless since—
The brush of his fingers on her calf sent tingles of sensation up her leg and made her thoughts scatter.
“Goddamn, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his gaze sliding over her with awe.
She found herself holding her breath as he examined her, and then it left in a sigh as he continued along the side of the bed, trailing his fingers up her leg, hip, and stomach. A moan slid from her lips, though, when they crested her breast and brushed over the nipple. It immediately went hard, need pushing her anxiety and discomfort away.
“G.G.,” she breathed, wanting to tell him they were sharing this dream. Wanting to tell him that she wanted him too, but her voice deserted her when he suddenly dropped to sit on the side of the bed and bent to claim her nipple with his mouth.
Pressing her head back into the pillow, Ildaria moaned, her body arching upward invitingly, her wrists pulling at the chains restricting them as she tried to reach for his head. He sucked her nipple into his mouth and lashed it with his tongue before grazing it with his teeth as he let it slip from his mouth.
“Mm,” he murmured, his lips trailing down her breast to the valley between them. “You smell like muffins.”
Ildaria’s eyes popped open, surprise pushing some of her desire aside.