Now he had to be the one dreaming. For the last forty-eight hours, she’d been the merciless erotic torment in his mind but now she was his wildest desires come to life, right here in his arms. With her lips parted, her eyes imploring, and her body this close and warm… Fuck. “Dream come true” was the tip of the goddamn iceberg. But weren’t dreams the soul’s way of reminding you what you couldn’t have? Who was the depressing dickhead who’d said that? Oh, yeah. That was him. With a resolution he couldn’t be further from feeling, he uncurled her fingers from his shirt then cupped the ones at his face long enough to press a kiss on her knuckles. “Honey, as much as every bone in my body would thank me to do that…I can’t.” As he forced himself to sit up, her bewildered stare followed every move he made. “Why?” How could she speak one word but scratch at fifty corners of his composure? Even if her trembling tone didn’t tip him off, he saw the self-doubt on her face, the way she glanced down at her body, encased so adorably in his shirt and nothing else, and compared herself to Luna’s “charms.”
