* * * *
Duncan glanced at his watch as he walked up the path to Neva's front door. It was nearly eight. He'd spent almost an hour on the phone, covering his one lie should Neva's parents call to check. Once Dave, his boss and good friend, had known the reasons behind Duncan's lie, he'd had no hesitation in playing along. He'd even offered use of his contacts in the sheriff's department. And Duncan had no doubt he'd need them before this week was out. He took the steps two at a time and knocked lightly on the front door. There was no answer, though he knew she was home. The warm scent of citrus swirled around him, a warmer, more alluring scent than jasmine, and one that suited her better. Heat surged through his body, though after this afternoon's efforts, it certainly didn't take much to get him aroused.
He twisted the handle and the door opened. Light shone softly in the kitchen, and a travel case waited near the door, along with a pair of shoes and a long black dress.
"Neva?"
He walked into the living room and found her on the sofa, fast asleep. He squatted beside her and gently brushed the dark gold strands of hair from her face. She stirred slightly, murmuring something he couldn't quite catch.
Her delicate features had a drawn look to them, and the smudges beneath her eyes were as dark as bruises. She'd obviously gotten as little sleep as he last night.
He trailed his fingers down her cheek to the full lips he ached to kiss, then on, past the long line of her neck to the round fullness of her br**sts. The cashmere sweater was soft under his fingertips, her ni**les hard.
He rose. His family's costume dance didn't start until midnight, so they didn't have to leave just yet. He walked out of the living room and headed up the stairs.
Her bedroom was like her — soft, feminine and golden. The bed was big, crowded with brightly colored cushions and cheerful bears. He swept them aside and pulled back the comforter and sheet. Then he headed back down the stairs.
She hadn't moved. He took a deep breath, then concentrated his kinetic energy and carefully lifted her from the sofa. Holding her several inches off the cushions, he gently pulled off her shoes, then her jeans and panties. The sweater he left. He had too many fantasies about caressing her in that sweater to take it off right now.
She muttered something as the cold air caressed her skin and turned around, pulling at his kinetic hold. Pain tore at the edges of his mind, and a bead of sweat trickled to his chin. He'd lifted people before with telekinesis, people far heavier than she was. But each of those times he hadn't wanted to keep his touch whisper soft. Gentleness wasn't easy.
He tucked his hands under her body, then released his kinetic hold and hugged her close. She snuggled into his chest, her skin so cool compared to his, then sighed softly. It was then he smelled the alcohol on her breath.
Given how little she'd eaten this evening, it was probably that, more than anything, that had made her fall asleep. And would certainly explain why she hadn't woken spitting fire when he'd stripped her.
He carried her up the stairs and placed her in her bed. For a moment, he simply stood there, his gaze lingering hungrily on the fullness of her br**sts under the cashmere sweater before moving on, past the flat plane of her stomach to the golden triangle of soft curls, remembering the way her long legs had wrapped around his waist as he thrust so very deep. He almost came just thinking about it.
He quickly stripped and climbed in beside her. She wouldn't be happy to find him there. This was her sanctuary, the one place no woman wanted to find a man unless he was invited.
But he had no intention of leaving or letting her leave, until he'd finished what he'd started this afternoon in the diner.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her close and waited for her to wake.
* * * *
The dream was one of pleasure. Neva lay wrapped in the darkness, part of her covered, part of her exposed and so ready for invasion. And she was invaded. By hands. By tongue. By body. She writhed and moaned, her skin on fire, every muscle screaming for release. The stroking continued. Outside. Inside. It took her higher and higher, until the need was so strong she couldn't even breathe. Then she came with such powerful force she screamed to the moon. It was a sound echoed by her dream lover.
She woke.
To discover it was no dream.
To discover the gentle invasion had not yet stopped.
"That was but a beginning," Duncan whispered in her ear. His tongue gently explored her lobe, and she shuddered under the assault.
She opened her eyes and realized she was home. In bed. Her bed.
Anger surged. He had to no right to be here. "What the hell are you doing?"
He shifted his weight off her, then moved his hand down her stomach and gently pressed past her damp curls. She shifted, trying to escape his touch, yet unable to deny the sweet pleasure of it.
"What does it feel like I'm doing?" His voice was lazy, amused.
Her gaze flew to his. His dark eyes were filled with enough heat to start a forest fire. And that was certainly the impact it had on her. "Seducing me in my own bed."
"That's exactly right."
"You have no right." She hesitated, eyes widening as his mouth drew close.