“Lilah.” He said her name calmly and waited for a reply even though his pulse spiked. Something was wrong. When another muffled sob came through the walls, he pushed the covers off. Following instinct more than any sort of plan, he hurried to her door. She mumbled something that sounded like “Shay,” and another shiver skittered along his spine. He knocked once as a warning and swung the door open.
Even in the shadowed room, he could see she sat up in bed, staring straight ahead, big tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. Her eyes were wide and unblinking and didn’t flick to him even when he repeated her name.
She’s dreaming. Sleepwalking without the walk.
“Shay.” Her choked voice overflowed with despair in much the same way her eyes overflowed with tears.
Completely out of his depth, but certain he’d read or heard somewhere not to wake someone abruptly in this state, he left the light off and moved to sit beside her on the bed. “Lilah?” Because the tears tore at him, he turned her to face him and used his thumbs to brush them away. She didn’t blink. Didn’t focus on him at all. Her huge pupils seemed to stare right through him. “Lilah, honey, wake up.” Going with another impulse, he wrapped his hands around her upper arms and gave her a small shake. Her head bobbled on her neck for several unsettling seconds before muscles kicked in. “Lilah?”
Her eyes fixed on him now, pupils still blown wide. Was she awake?
Cold hands settled on his bare chest. Her lips parted with a damp pop he shouldn’t have heard over the pattering rain, but he was so fucking attuned to her. Warm, toothpaste-minty breath washed over his upper lip.
Not good. His heart raced. Every muscle in his body pulled tight. When her hands slid over his pecs and down his torso, he felt them dragging all his control away with them. When she leaned closer, with her face angled to his, and the very tips of her cotton-covered breasts brushed his chest, a groan of surrender shuddered up from deep in his soul and echoed in his ears. He locked his jaw to keep it inside. With a quick inhale, she jerked back a little from the small, electric contact, then slowly settled her breasts fully against him and sighed. Somehow his arms ended up around her, hands under her shirt, running up and down the warm, smooth skin of her back. Her hands were on the move, too, caressing the back of his neck, his jaw. Urging his face closer to hers. Eyes locked, he said her name in a desperate whisper just before her lips touched his.
Emotion swamped him, trapping him somewhere between heaven, hell, and sweet, sweet Lilah. She moaned into his mouth—a low, eager moan—or maybe he imagined it, but the way she surged closer and straddled his lap? Even his imagination wasn’t that good.
A single imperative filled his mind. Stop. But the connection between his brain and his body simply clicked off. He sat, unable to do anything but hold her as her lips found his and her hips started to rock. Through two layers of sweats, he felt the heat of her pressing, rubbing, grinding against him in a desperate dance.
His cock, already awake and ready for action, lengthened and thickened to partner with her, to provide her with the perfect tool for the job of offering her relief.
Her eyelids fluttered closed as her motions grew faster. As her mouth grew avid. In his mind he whispered, Lilah.Lilah, Lilah, Lilah. But in the room the only sounds were his tortured groans and the wet slide of lips and tongue. His rogue hands cupped her ass, helping her achieve the frantic, cock-torturing pace she seemed to need.
Suddenly, she surged up, wrapped her arms around his head, clamped his hips with her knees, and arched back until her entire body vibrated with the strength of what was happening inside her.
He held her tight, held her secure, while a primal part of him watched in awe as sweet, sunny Lilah Iquat came in his arms with all the fierce and beautiful power of a solar flare.
That same primitive part of him greedily accepted her breathless, ecstatic cries, the wanton undulations of her body as she rode wave after wave of sensation, and her long, lavish moan of satisfaction. Even the weight of her head resting on his shoulder, the feel of her arms draped loosely around him, and the warmth of her spent body relying on him for support felt precious. He stashed them away in a deep, dark box like a thief hoarding stolen treasure. With another sigh, she eased away, lay back against the pillow, hair flowing like a river around her, arms framing the whole, unforgettable image. Smiling gently, she blinked him into focus.
“Ford.”
The way she said his name held no question, no confusion. Just trust.
Guilt crashed over him. Guilt and self-loathing. He jumped off the bed like it was on fire. “I’m sorry. That was…you were dreaming.” Dreaming about another man. Dreaming about Shay. “I came in to wake you, but…” No. He shook his head. No buts. No excuses. He closed his eyes against the hurt and confusion in hers, took a deep breath, and went on, “I’m sorry. I should never have let that happen.”
Her cheeks reddened. Her lips parted to issue some kind of reply.
Jesus. Stop talking. Get the fuck out. “Sorry,” he muttered again and left before she could say a word.