didn’t call her back. Then her folks had died.
Her world had suddenly been turned upside down. She’d desperately needed someone to hold her close and tell her she would survive…and she’d still hoped that person would be Cole. But he hadn’t shown his face at either the visitation or the funeral. Considering all they’d shared, his absence had been a slap in the face.
She collapsed back against the pillow and closed her eyes, letting sleep steal her away from the memories she wished she could forget....
Meg told herself to wake up, but the dream was so compelling she couldn’t leave it, not yet. Cole had come to her.
With a contented sigh, she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. Her head fit perfectly against his chest, just under his chin. Having him so close was a dream come true.
She loved the way he smelled, a woodsy mixture of cologne and soap and maleness that brought a tingle to her lips and heat percolating low in her belly.
His hand flattened against her lower back, drawing her up against the length of his body. Meg pressed herself more fully against him, the action bringing back memories of when they’d made love.
The man now holding her in his arms had been the first to kiss her, to touch her, to make love to her. But once wasn’t enough.
She longed to once again run her hands over his body, to feel the coiled strength of skin and muscle sliding under her fingers. She wanted him to touch her in the same way, wanted to feel the weight of his body on hers. Wanted to feel him inside her.
She planted a kiss at the base of his neck, his skin salty beneath her lips.
“Are you sure this is wise?” The words seemed to come from far away.
Of all the times for her conscience to make an appearance. Even in a dream, participating in a fantasy wasn’t always wise. But she couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Being in Cole’s arms felt so right.
She wound her arms around his neck and lifted her face.
He folded her more fully into his arms, anchoring her against his chest as his mouth covered hers in a deep, compelling kiss. Dreamily, Meg stroked his thick hair. He tasted as sweet as spearmint candy from The Coffee Pot.
His hand closed over one breast, cupping it high in his hand, circling the peak with his fingers. Meg inhaled sharply and, for a second, panicked. Until she remembered that this was a dream and there was no reason to deny herself anything.
If he’d noticed her momentary hesitation, he gave no indication. He continued to kiss her with a slow thoroughness that left her weak, trembling and longing for more. When his tongue swept across her lips, seeking access, she eagerly opened her mouth to him, pulling his body on top of hers, her tongue fencing with his.
The warmth in her lower belly turned fiery hot and became a pulsating need. There was only one problem. There were clothes between them. Thankfully she had a solution....
She slipped her hand between them, smiling when she encountered a hard bulge, closing her fingers over the strained zipper, anticipation coursing up her spine.
“Aunt Meg?”
Her fingers stilled. Was that Charlie’s voice? What was the child doing in her R-rated—soon to be X-rated—dream? A moment later she heard his voice again, more insistent this time.
Though every fiber of her being longed to ride this dream through to completion, Meg reluctantly opened her eyes…and found herself face-to-face with Cole Lassiter.
Cole knew he should have pushed Meg away when she’d first snuggled up against him. But they were alone—Charlie had long since gotten up and headed into the living room to watch cartoons—and she’d looked so beautiful lying there, that he couldn’t resist. He’d wrapped his arm around her, his heart experiencing a tug of déjà vu in the process.
When she kissed his neck, he somehow found the words to ask if she was sure. Sure she knew what she was doing. Sure this was really a road she wanted to go down. Her answer had been to twine her hands around his neck and lift her lips to his.
From the shock in her eyes now, she obviously was having second thoughts about that decision.
Cole rolled off of her, sensing by the murderous look on her face that being tossed to the floor was a distinct possibility. Only when he was flat on his back did he realize they weren’t alone.