Page 9 of Undecided Heiress

His amusement is undeniable as a smirk tugs at his mouth. “While I love the idea of fucking you until the sun rises, we need to get out of here. This dream is out of hand.” He rushes to the bed and fluffs a pillow, then gestures for me to either sit or lie down. I remain rooted in place.

“Why didn’t you marry Eliza, like I asked?”

“Because I don’t love her. I’m not going to marry a woman I don’t love, even in a dream. Haven’t you heard of ‘manifesting?’ I won’t risk it.”

“You sound like Jen, but… you don’t love me,” I counter. “Why would you have married me when we were here last time?”

“If you recall, I didn’t want to marry Eliza then, either.” James stalks toward me, a prowl in his gait. “True, I may not be in love with you at this very moment. But, fuck, Anna, I’m utterly obsessed with you.” As he reaches me, he doesn’t kiss me as expected. Instead, he stands his ground as I raise a defiant chin. “I’ve been unable to think of anything or anyone else since we first met here weeks ago. Every night, I promise myself it will be the last time, but I will the dream to recur each and every time I sleep.” He tucks my wind-swept tendrils behind my ear and keeps his voice soft as he continues, “I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.”

“This is all pretend, a figment of our imaginations. You want a fictional woman.”

“I’m not asking you to marry me when we wake up. But I refuse to marry another woman when you’re right here in front of me.”

“The book,” I whisper breathlessly.

“Fuck the book.” James slides his hand into my hair, gripping a fistful and tugging gently. “Here? You’re mine, Anna.”

He tosses me onto the bed as if I weigh nothing, and a giggle escapes me, but I quickly school my features and reply, “I’m not yours.”

“While you lie to yourself, shall I check to see exactly how wet you are thinking about me tasting you again?” As he pulls my dress up, his fingers caress my legs from my calves to my thighs, spreading me wide as he reaches them. He rips away all of the fabric, leaving me bare to him, and my body reacts despite my internal protest. His growled sigh makes all of my inhibitions leap out of the window. “As perfect as I remember.” Lowering to one knee, he asks, “Do you want me to stop?” I pull up onto my elbows, shaking my head, and he nips at the flesh of my inner thigh. I stifle a yelp, making him chuckle darkly. “Fuck, it’s going to take everything in me to not touch you when we wake up.”

“Then don’t.”

Any sane woman would say no to this… but I am no sane woman. Trying to fix an author’s book with a dream is proof of that.

James

Aglimpse of a fantasy dances in my mind, unlike any dream I’ve had. It’s a compilation of scenes I've never personally experienced. In particular, one stands out of Anna having dinner with me, sitting across a small, candlelit table, laughing at something I’ve said. The images disappear as quickly as they came, and as I toss her legs over my shoulders, she whispers, “We’ve never had dinner.”

“No, we haven’t,” I agree, kissing the same place on her thigh that I took between my teeth.

“Sorry, it’s ridiculous, but I just had a memory I can’t explain. Though, it wasn’t truly a memory at all. We were having dinner and?—”

“I said something that made you laugh?”

Anna sits up suddenly, her dress cascading to her sides, and repeats, “We’ve never had dinner.”

“If you’d lie back, I’d be able to have mine.”

“That’s what the woman meant by we would rewrite reality,” she groans. “I’ve just had a memory of a dinner that’s never happened. Were there candles on the table?”

“Yes. Now, will you please lie down?”

“No! This is all pretend.” She shifts back from me quicker than I can catch her. “You can fuck me when we wake up, but right now, we need to fix the story… before our own changes.”

There’s no use in fighting her. “I don’t know, that dinner seemed quite lovely.”

“But it didn’t happen!” Her arms fly wide, as they often do, and then she points her finger at me like a Sunday school teacher. It turns me on and disarms me at the same time. “We’ve never had dinner. You ordered takeaway, remember? But we fell asleep before it arrived.” She then mutters to herself, “We’re doing more than rewriting a book; we’re rewriting our lives. What if when we wake up, you and I… What if we… I don’t like the idea that I’ll wake up and this was all a dream, too…”

“Then, marry me.” At my voice, she stops the incessant chatter. “The second edition will remain intact.” I shouldn’t get my hopes up that this wild woman—who I’ll never tame—will stay through the night, much less spend the rest of our lives together. At the very least, I’ll get the fantasy of her being mine while we’re dreaming. “What are you so afraid of?”

Anna sits forward and cups my cheek. “I can’t just decide to marry someone. This isn’t my story, it’s Eliza’s.”

Covering her hand with mine, I dare to offer my heart to her. “Please, Anna. Don’t make me marry her. What if we never wake up from this dream? I’d be stuck with a woman who isn’t you.” I can sense she’s still undecided about all of this, and I press on, “What if we risk it? Run off and get married? If we end up stuck here, at least we'll be together.”

Preferably before my fictional brother…

“You think you could handle being a prince while your princess is busy all day reading smut on a chaise in the library?”

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