I woke with a smile. Well rested and warm, with a happy wetness between my legs, I tried to recall my dream. The details were fuzzy, but there was something kinky with Han Solo on the bridge of the Millennium Falcon. I rolled onto my side with my eyes closed still and stretched out. A body. There was someone in bed with me. My newly waking brain tried to process the information. Did Emily crawl into the wrong bed? Oh God! Where were my clothes? Suddenly sitting and hugging the blankets to my chest, what happened the previous night came crashing back to me in delectably vivid detail. I turned my head as Dean sighed in his sleep, and a libidinous shudder gave me goose bumps. Damn, he was so beautiful lying there. I spotted a hickey at the base of his neck. What was I, some rabid Klingon? A fledgling vamp? Hickeys were for stupid, horny teens. I smiled. I’d marked him. Mine. All mine. After having sex for a second time last night, we’d stayed up for hours talking. Conversation flowed even better than it did in our out-of-character forum online.
