eyes drifted open, and through a haze he saw her face. Her perfect, familiar face.
Okay, dumb, but…even if it was a dream, it was still her.
“Kat.” He slid his hand around her nape and pulled her mouth to his.
Then groaned at the first touch.
She hesitated. He felt it, then pushed the thought right out of his head as he tightened his arms around her. Her soft purr as she melted against him spurred him on. He kissed her again, fell back onto the floor and brought her with him.
“Pete,” she said against his mouth. “Oh, I shouldn’t…”
Yeah, he shouldn’t either. He was gonna have the mother of all wet dreams on his hands when he woke up, but who the hell cared anymore?
His fingers found the hem of her sweatshirt, and he pushed it up, ran his hands along the smooth skin of her back, around to her ribs. She drew a breath at the slight touch, let it out. Whatever protest had been on her sweet, tempting lips faded as she kissed him back.
His erection sprang to life. He clutched her hips and pulled her tight against him. That sexy purr coming from somewhere deep inside her turned to an achy mew he knew from experience meant she was as desperate for him as he was for her.
He deepened the kiss, knew he’d never last if she kept rubbing up against him like she was doing, if she didn’t lose those clothes and set his pounding arousal free, climb on top of him and take him right here, right now.
Hell, he didn’t even care that in this twisted fantasy he was lying on a cold cement floor, that his head was still throbbing from a monster hangover or that his toes were nearly numb. All he cared about was getting her naked and burying himself inside her until that hot sweet scent of hers surrounded him and she screamed his name and came with a ferocity that…
Wait. He could smell her.
Time seemed to stand still as the impact of that realization plowed into him.
His heart ratcheted up a notch. She continued to kiss him while he went cold all over.
In all his delirious fantasies about being with Kat again—the ones he’d never cop to, no matter what—he’d always been able to see her, to feel her, even to taste her to some degree. But never, not once in all the times he’d had this recurring dream, had he ever been able to smell her.
Now he could.
She was also on fire. Like liquid heat against his skin where she burrowed closer to him.
You couldn’t smell dreams, and they sure as hell weren’t warm.
Confused, caught between a dream state and reality, he gripped her arms, pushed her back and squinted to look up into a face he’d never expected to see again in this lifetime.
“Kat?” He croaked out the word, didn’t dare move as those wide, molten chocolate eyes ran over his features.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “It’s me.”
No way.
He bolted, not sure what was happening. All he knew for certain was his kinky sex fantasies had never taken this detour into insanity before. He scrambled from the floor and was nearly knocked over by a wave of nausea that made him grip the door handle again to keep from falling to his knees.
She was up and next to him before he could catch his bearings. “I know how this looks, but if you just give me a minute, I can explain.” She sounded frantic. A little scared. And completely wigged out.
Holy fuck. That made two of them. “What the…” The pounding hit his skull again with the force of a jackhammer, and he pressed his fingers against his temples. “This isn’t real,” he muttered to himself as he gave his head a strong shake. “Can’t be real. I’m hung over. Really hung over. That or I’ve got a brain tumor.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “MRI. That’s it. I need a goddamn MRI.”
She reached out for him. “Let me—”
He flinched and jerked away from her hand. If she touched him again he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to think straight. And right now he really needed to clear his damn head so he could figure out just what the hell was going on.
She dropped her arm like he’d burned her, reached up with one hand to wrap her fingers around a pendant of some kind hanging from her neck. “The least you can do is listen to what I have to