He wasn’t, it turned out, mad about the whole thing where I’d told him I loved Brandon and not him.Quite the opposite, in fact. Our reunion was joyful…and passionate. It was turning the ice that had been flowing in my veins back to blood…warm, rich blood that was making me hot…shove-the-covers-down, hair-sticking-to-the-back-of-my-neck hot.In my dream, Christopher was kissing me…gently at first, playful kisses on the lips, light as the down feathers in the comforter that I’d already pushed past my bare thighs.Then, as I kissed him back, proving that it was true— I had never loved Brandon. How could I?— the kisses became longer…deeper…more passionate. My lips parted beneath his as his hands found their way into my hair— spread like a fan across my pillow— his mouth cool against mine because of the chill outside, the zipper from his leather jacket almost unbearably cold as it pressed against my warm skin as he leaned over my bed, whispering my name….I was so relieved to learn he hadn’t even believed me that bitterly cold morning outside of Dr.
