“I know you’re awake,” his deep voice sounded and she blinked.
She knew that voice and its strange accent. Not American, not Scottish, not English, not French, a beautiful mixture of all of them.
Her handsome wolf.
Yes, definitely dreaming.
But this one was new.
She’d never had it in her cabin before. It was always either in her bedroom or some dream room lit by firelight, a room she’d never been in but sensed, strangely, was home.
And it had never been this vivid.
She dreamed vivid dreams her whole life. It was another gift she had that she knew others didn’t. Her dreams weren’t weird or disjointed. They were clear, they told stories and she always remembered every second.
She liked this new dream.
“No, I’m not,” she told his back as he laid down the last log. “I’m dreaming.”
He rose, turned and she sucked in dream breath.
God, he was handsome.
She loved every plane and angle on his face and there were lots of them and there was lots to love. He was, put simply, beautiful.
Dark eyebrows, sky blue eyes, strong jaw, interesting nose, full bottom lip.
He could, she noted with surprise, use a shave. He’d never been stubbly in any of her other dreams. With the thick, dark growth on his face, he looked like he hadn’t shaved in days.
She’d never been one for facial hair but on him she liked it.
She tore her eyes from his face and noticed he had on a dark gray, thermal henley under the flannel.
And he had on a great, black belt with a heavy buckle.
His outdoorsy outfit, not usually Sonia’s thing, was delicious, especially on that big, muscular, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, long-legged body.
Hell, if he was real and lived in a real cabin in the mountains and one woman caught sight of him, it would be all over. Word would get out and women would be crawling all over this place like ants on the remains of a melted, fallen snow cone.
He was watching her enquiringly, so she got up on an elbow and called softly, “Why are you all the way over there, my handsome wolf?”
At her words, his brows drew together and it was a decidedly ominous look.
Sonia stared at him.
He’d never looked even close to ominous in any of her other dreams.
“What did you just say?” he asked, his voice strangely low and not-so-strangely (given the look) ominous.
She decided to go with it. He was always somewhat teasing and often even playful in her dreams.
“You heard me, wolf.”
He pulled off his gloves and dropped them on a chair as he strode toward her.
Sonia watched him.
His grace was astonishing. He’d always been close to her bed when she dreamed of him. She’d only ever felt him join her there. She’d never seen him move.