Page 82 of Fated

Aaron’s eyebrows rise. “That we had a few minutes.”

“To?”

“Sleep.”

“Sleep?” I repeat.

His eyes soften with a dreamy expression. “It’s been years since I’ve slept past five thirty. Wouldn’t it be nice?”

Oh. Okay. Yes. I completely misread the situation. He didn’t want me to get back in bed for a long, orgasm-filled morning. He wanted to sleep.

I don’t know why this makes me cranky. It’s not as if I wanted to have sex with him on Saturday, but I tense and move to roll off him.

“Fi?” he whispers, the word barely heard above the sound of the waves.

I still. My eyes fly to his and I sink back into his warmth, my muscles loosening. A soft hum steals over me, running over my skin.

“Yes?”

He smiles then, his eyes warming. “Just wondering,” he says, then he cups my face in his hands, his thumbs rubbing over my cheeks, and pulls me down for a kiss.

His lips brush across mine, whisper-soft. And I exhale, the breath forced from me at the feel of him. His fingers stroke my skin and an ache builds in my chest as he runs his mouth over mine. I breathe in the salt of the sea, the perfumed flowers opening and tilting their heads toward the sunrise. My blood thrums in time with the sea.

He pulls back then, the heat of his mouth still on mine. His heart thunders beneath me. When I shift over him he makes a small, deep noise in the back of his throat.

“Morning.”

I smile. “Good morning.”

His fingers curl on my cheeks. “You’re still here.”

“I am.”

“I thought you’d go in to bed. What does Fi mean?”

I stare at him, unsure how to answer. Do I tell him it’s my name? With that, though, I’d have to convince him I’m not Becca and that he doesn’t actually exist outside my dream world.

“It’s a code word.”

He lets out an amused huff of air and then takes his hands from my face. “Why?”

I shrug. “It’s so you know I’m me.”

Me, and not the other dream Becca. The one who loves Robert and wants to leave the island.

He looks as if he’s going to argue, but then he must decide against it.

“We should go,” he says, looking across the water at the rising sun. “We have to get Amy and Sean up, head to work.”

Wait.

Work?

As in, work, work?

Iworkin my dreams?

In Geneva I work twelve-hour days. Before Mila I often spent eighteen hours at the office. I’m not averse to work. In fact, I love what I do. However, I didn’t think I’d take that passion with me into my dreams.

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