Page 25 of The Marriage Mission

"What?" Noah pressed his hand to his heart, trying to look innocent. "You think I'm going to touch you if we sleep in the same bed?"

Jacqui said nothing.

"Do you think I want to touch you?"

He saw her confidence falter then. Noah wanted to kick himself in his own butt for making her doubt his feelings for her. But first he had to make her feel comfortable enough to have feelings for him.

"Scout's honor, Jacqui, I won't touch you. Unless, of course, you ask me to."

"I'm not going to ask you to." Her voice was husky with denial.

"Then there's nothing we have to worry about."

ChapterSixteen

Jacqui had been a lucid dreamer all her life. Whenever her sisters woke from a nightmare, she'd tell them to simply change the dream the next time. Jami and Jules had looked at her like she was crazy when she said these things to them as kids. Jacqui hadn't learned until later that not everyone dreamed the way she did. Not everyone knew they were dreaming or could sometimes control aspects of their dreams. Some didn't dream at all.

She'd always looked up to the heroines of movies like Nancy inNightmare on Elm Streetwho could control what happened in dreams. Granted, Jacqui didn't have many nightmares. Well, there was that one recurring dream of marathon mis en place prepping where she'd be chopping onions or turning artichokes for a sadistic chef with knife fingers. But truly, she found prep soothing. It was cooking that gave her hives these days. And she would always wake herself up if she got too close to a lit stove.

She wasn't dreaming of cooking right now. She was dreaming of sleeping. Which was an odd dream to have. She wasn't alone in this dream, just like she knew she wasn't alone in her bed. Noah was beside her.

Do you think I’m going to touch you?

He wasn't speaking. His eyes were closed, his hands behind his head. Just as he'd been when he climbed into her bed back in reality.

Do you think I want to touch you?

Jacqui wasn't so sure about that, back on the other side of her eyelids. In the dream, Noah's eyes opened. He looked straight at her with that unreadable look. Just like in reality, his gaze tracked her. There was also that smirk on his mouth. It was the smirk she couldn't read.

"Do you think I want to touch you?" he said.

"Yes," Jacqui answered. Because in the dream, she could tell him the truth. She could tell him that she wanted him to touch her.

As a lucid dreamer, Jacqui had long mastered the art of navigating her nocturnal landscapes, aware of her dreaming state yet fully immersed in the experiences it offered. Tonight, her dream-self moved with purpose across the expanse of bed sheets that separated her from her temporary husband.

In the dream, she could look her fill at his large body. In her dream, she could inhale his spicy scent without trying to be sneaky about it. In her dream, she could touch him.

"Scout’s honor, I won’t touch you.”

Jacqui wanted Noah to touch her. But in this dream, he wouldn't. Nothing she did seemed able to make him.

Sometimes, she couldn't control every aspect of her dreams. But she could control whatshedid. Soshetouchedhim.

Noah's chest was bare in the dream. Back in reality, he'd pulled on a T-shirt before he'd come to bed. She saw the red bruising there from the twin bed's collapse. She felt another pang of guilt for forcing him into the guest room when she knew full well his big body wouldn't fit the bed frame.

Now she ran her fingers over those bruised spots. She reached out, her fingertips barely grazing the firm expanse of his chest. The warmth of his skin beneath her touch was palpable, radiating a comforting heat that pulsed like a gentle breeze against the cool night air of the dream-meadow. The solid, rhythmic beat of his heart thumped under her touch, grounding the surrealism of the dream with something undeniably real.

Jacqui's fingers traced the outline of his pecs, each muscle defined and smooth under the softness of his skin. The texture was like silk draped over stones, a softness belying the strength that lay beneath. Moving downward, her hands encountered the ridges of his abs, each one a subtle rise and fall in the landscape of his body. They were like rows of carefully carved hillocks, shaped from years of discipline and physical work. The sensation was exhilarating—each muscle a testament to his strength yet yielding under her curious exploration.

Her senses were alight with the proximity of him. His scent was a mix of the fresh outdoors and something uniquely Noah. It was a clean, invigorating smell that wove itself into the fabric of her dream.

Jacqui leaned closer. The anticipation built. Her heart pounded louder in her chest. Her eyes locked on to his lips, observing the way the moonlight played over the contours, casting them in a soft light. She could almost taste him already—the slight hint of mint from toothpaste, perhaps, mingled with the natural flavor that she imagined was all his own. The thought made her mouth water, her lips parting slightly as she inched closer.

"Are you going to kiss me, Jacqui?"

Why hadn't she kissed him for real at the ceremony? Then she wouldn't have to be pawing at him in her dreams. That peck had done nothing but make her thirsty, like she'd had the last drop in her canteen while in the middle of the desert. Now she was looking down at a crystal blue pool of fresh water.

"You can if you want," he said. "You can kiss me. You don't need to ask my permission."

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