previous day. His eyes are heavy. He drops his bag onto the floor as soon as he steps inside.
It takes him a few seconds before he realizes I’m there.
“Oh. Hey.” He blinks as he processes my presence. Then his eyes search my face with a strange intensity. His gaze moves from my face to my loose hair to the little silk gown I’m wearing to my bare legs and feet.
My whole body is suddenly hot. And weirdly full. Needy. Like it’s suddenly demanding attention and won’t take no for an answer.
My nipples feel like they’ve tightened. Even more so when Damian’s eyes linger on them. I shift from foot to foot and wonder why all my female parts have decided to take this moment to make themselves known.
“Hi,” I manage to say in a voice that’s a lot thicker than it should be.
“Hi.”
I tell myself not to do it. That I’m an intelligent, articulate woman who is in control of her voice and her body. But evidently the world is out to prove me wrong tonight. I hear myself repeating stupidly, “Hi.”
He takes a hoarse breath and wrenches his eyes back up to my face. “Do you... do you have company?” The texture of his voice is odd. I can’t tell if he’s surprised or angry.
“No! Of course not. Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know. You look...” He makes a vague gesture toward my body.
I glance down at myself and realize what prompted his question. My gown is a dusky lavender shade with lacy straps and a cinch under my breasts. It’s not overtly sexy, but it’s also not like the clothes I wear during the daytime.
“Oh.” I tell myself that this explains the weird mood between us. Of course Damian wouldn’t have expected me to be wearing this particular outfit. “No. It’s nothing like that. I don’t wear this for guys. I wear it for me. I like... I don’t know why, but I like pretty nightgowns. So I always wear them.”
“Oh. Okay.” His eyes drop down again but don’t linger this time. “That makes sense. I just didn’t... expect it.”
“I know. I wear such boring clothes normally. I’m not sure why I... I mean, I guess when I was younger, I just always thought they were so pretty. And I figured when I was grown up, I’d be allowed to wear pretty things like that. So now...” I clear my throat. “Anyway. I don’t have company. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Well, you’d be allowed. It’s not like we’re married for real.”
“I know. But it would be...” The truth is, it would feel wrong to me, but I don’t want to admit that to Damian since it might imply I thought there was more between us than there actually is. “It would be counterproductive since the point of this whole thing is for people to think we’re really married.”
“Right. That’s what I’ve been assuming too. So I’m not going to...” His eyes hold mine for a little too long. “I’m not going to be having company either.”
“Okay. Good.” Shit, my cheeks are burning again. I’ve never been a blusher before, so it doesn’t seem fair that I’ve suddenly turned into one with Damian.
He’s standing only inches from me now. I don’t even remember him moving, but he must have since he definitely wasn’t this close to me before. He’s still looking at me with that same intensity.
“I’ve never seen your hair down before,” he murmurs. That rough texture is still in his voice.
I raise a hand to touch my hair. It’s normally in a low ponytail at the nape of my neck. “Oh. Yeah. I don’t pull it back at night.”
He raises a hand and lets his fingers run down one long section of my hair. I stand very still. I’m barely able to breathe. A deep pulsing has awoken between my legs, and it’s threatening to overwhelm me.
Damian drops his hand, clears his throat, and steps back. “Well, good night then.” He leans over to get something out of his bag.
The abrupt shift in mood feels like a blow to my gut. “Yeah,” I manage to say. “Good night.”
I take my bottle of water and get out of there fast, before Damian realizes that I was hoping for something just now that’s never going to happen.
EVER SINCE I WAS A child, I’ve had a recurring anxiety dream. Whenever I’m stressed or upset or emotionally disturbed in any way, the dream comes to me night after night, leaving me