Page 215 of Captive Omega

Those are the times I feel the most lonely.

“That night…” Her voice trails off as I slowly urge her into my lap with a soft tug on her slim wrist.

She feels different tonight. More solid. More… real than any dream so far, and I’m desperate to hold on to her for as long as she’s here.

“What night?” I skim my fingers up her back, and she breathes out a soft sound that makes me instantly rock hard.

Light from the flames dance over her warm, olive skin, and her eyes are bright, holding mine as she leans toward me. “I ran away because of how you made me feel.”

I stop skimming my finger along her spine. This dream isn’t going the way they usually go. There’s more talking. I will never tire of the sound of Resa’s husky voice, but there’s a growing sense that things are building up to something new.

“Tell me.”

The soft, rounded curve of her ass sinks on my stiff cock. Not the way I want—or need it too—but I don’t have dreams like that of Resa. At least not until now. Now, I ache to shove her skirt up, yank my pants down and take her to the floor.

I start wishing this dream never ends.

“Resa?”

Her warm breath brushes my lips as I bury my hand in the silken fall of her hair. “Sometimes I dream of you.”

She kisses me. Her lips are soft, her kiss firm, and she tastes like sweetness and potent need.

I groan, inhaling the sweet peach scent of her skin, as I kiss her back. And I count down the seconds until she evaporates in my arms and I wake up alone to a dead fireplace.

But the dream doesn’t end. It continues with the brush of her tongue against mine, and her fingers trailing fire along my jaw. It goes on, and on, and on.

I drag her deeper into my lap. Maybe I can keep her in my arms forever.

She pulls away with a yelp. I slam my eyes closed, squeezing them tightly shut so I don’t have to watch her disappear right in front of me.

I wait for a count of two.

She’s usually gone by now, so why do I still feel her in my lap?

I blink my eyes open.

Resa is in the same blue linen dress, forehead wrinkled as she rubs the arch of her bare right foot, muttering, “Stupid puzzle.”

She is still here.

“This isn’t a dream,” I whisper, stunned.

Happiness rises like a bubbling brook, slow at first but with increasing force.

If Resa is here, smiling at me the way she just was—kissing me the way she just did—it can only mean one thing.

She’s here to stay.

Her new smile is impish. “Was it me stepping on a puzzle that ruined it?”

Chapter 60

Resa

Garrison throws his head back and laughs.

I forget about the flare of pain from stepping on the stupid sharp edge of a puzzle as Garrison pulls me into his arms. I have never seen him laugh like that before.

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