them back on the bed, straighten out my clothes, and climb under the sheet.
The heat inside me has officially cooled. My eyelids grow heavy. When I blink, I don’t see Callum anymore. Every muscle in my body is relaxed, free of tension at the thought. Soon I’m asleep. It’s deep and hard and everything good.
Until I start to dream.
* * *
• • •
Dream Callum is a million times nicer than real-life Callum.
Dream Callum spoons me from behind, my absolute favorite. How did he know?
He presses his clothes-free body against mine, a perfect shell for my hot and bothered self.
None of this is real. That doesn’t make it any less divine.
He wraps his arms around me. They’re so thick that when pressed against me, they cover most of my naked chest. Leaning back, I groan.
“You like that?” he asks.
I nod a yes, then moan again.
Those thick lips press against the back of my neck. “What do you want, Nikki?”
When his voice is this low, this gentle, it makes my eyes roll to the back of my head. The hottest sound in the world is Callum’s English accent rolling off his tongue in a soft, guttural tone.
I twist my head around so I can get a better look. I make out those expressive eyes, his defined jawline, that perfect pouty mouth.
“You know what I want,” I rasp.
“Naughty girl.” A smirk completes his admonishment.
He starts a trail of kisses down the side of my neck, to my collarbone, across my breasts. I’m gasping, running my fingers in his honey-blond hair, which looks almost light brown in the dim glow of my bedside lamp.
Those thick lips make easy work of crossing my stomach, gliding down and across, skimming all the way to my hips. Goose bumps fly across every inch of me. When he makes it between my legs, I’m panting.
“I . . . Fuck.”
I can’t talk, I can’t breathe, I can’t see straight. Not when his mouth is this good. I’d give anything to explode right now, to let the pleasure waves wrack my body until I’m a panting, shrieking mound of flesh and bone.
But not yet. I have to get this out. He has to know. And I need to hear him say it.
All I can do to steady myself is tug my fingers through his hair. His smirk widens. He likes it when I’m a little rough, it seems.
His lips land on the inside of my right thigh, then the inside of my left. My head falls back at the feel of his soft lips against the most sensitive patch of skin on my body.
“Wait,” I gasp.
I’m talking to the ceiling with my eyes closed. This won’t do. When I finally connect with his hazel stare, he’s no longer smiling. It’s a frown, but also something more. Something hungry and desperate.
“I just . . . I want you to say you’re sorry . . . for how mean you were . . . when we met.”
It’s a struggle among struggles to get the words out when all I want to do is press his face between my legs and relieve the fire inside me.
His brow lifts a touch, and his expression softens all the way to tender. And then he lowers his face right where I want him. “This is how I say sorry, petal.”
Shrill beeping hits my ears. I open my eyes and turn my head to the alarm clock on my phone.
Alarm. That explains the unwelcome noise. I shut it off, press a pillow over my face, and groan. Cockblocked by my own phone.
“Damn it,” I half yell, half groan.
My bedroom door whips open to reveal Mom peering at me with worried wide eyes. Her hair is pulled back, and she’s donned one of my dad’s old T-shirts, tied into a loose knot at the waist, and a pair of gray leggings. I’ve interrupted her morning calisthenics routines with my sex-dream-induced shouting, it seems.
“Anak, are you okay? Why were you screaming?”
Sitting up, I clutch a pillow to my chest. Why was I screaming? Well, I almost got what was most certainly mind-blowing dream oral sex from my nemesis, but my alarm so rudely interrupted.
I opt for a white lie instead. “I’m fine. I just had a leg cramp. Sorry to wake you.”
Her hand falls against her chest and she nods, then pads out the door. Lemon scurries after her. Mom wishes Lemon good morning in a cheery voice, then there’s a sound of cat food hitting Lemon’s metal dish.