That night, in his lonely hotel bed, Falon had a dream he hadn’t had in nearly ten years. He was back in his college dorm room when the door suddenly opens and a warm body slides in next to him on the narrow bed. Thin arms reach for him and then he’s drowning in the hottest kiss he has ever experienced. The sudden feel of warm, naked flesh against his bare chest caused him to fly into a frenzy as he ripped his boxers off and pulled the woman under him.
His hands explored her compact curves that were designed to drive men wild. His breathing grew labored and he had to know who was pushing him so close to insanity, so in a flash of movement before her tongue could break his will Falon pulled back. Instead of the vague outline of features he had experienced in his previous dream, when he pulled back it was Sarah under him looking at him with such desire and longing he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.
Just as he bent to fiercely claim her mouth, he was wrenched awake by his alarm. Lying there panting covered in sweat and with a tent in the sheet boy scouts could camp under, Falon acknowledged he had come dangerously close to having his first wet dream since discovering his foster father’s Playboy stash.
Sitting in his office just feet from Sarah with the memory of last night’s dream still fresh in his mind had him on edge. His nerve endings felt raw and just the thought of her bare breasts pressing against his chest had him shifting his seat in an attempt to alleviate the pressure.
As much as that dream had made him want to get on with his plans to get Sarah into his bed, he couldn’t figure out how she earned the starring role in the dream that had haunted him for nine years. It had been his senior year in college when he first had the dream. There was a party on his floor and he’d had quite a bit to drink and stumbled his way to bed in the early hours of morning. He woke a few hours later sated and wondered if maybe the events had truly happened. He searched for the mystery woman who ignited such a response in him for weeks¸ desperate for a repeat performance, but could never find her. That’s when he decided his oversexed brain mixed with copious amounts of cheap beer had been the source of his greatest sexual experience. Sad. But true. And now Sarah has taken that spot which could only mean one thing. He had been too long without a woman, something that he needed to change as soon as possible.
***
Sarah sat behind her desk and rubbed her aching temples. Every time she thought about her actions last night she winced as if they caused her more pain. What had she been thinking to go out and try to make Falon jealous? The man obviously had a heart of stone and a libido kept tightly in check. How was she supposed to seduce Falon if he was locked up tighter than Fort Knox? Deciding that these were thoughts for a few aspirin chased by a strong cup of coffee, she headed for the kitchen.
“You look like hell.”
“Good morning to you too,” she grumbled without looking up as she poured another heaping spoonful of sugar into her mug.
“Please tell me it’s not just the tequila that gave you those lovely bags under your eyes.” She shot her a withering look as the other woman came further into the room. “Okay, just the tequila then.”
Sarah felt Marcy studying her as she took a warming drink of her very sweet coffee. Wrinkling her nose as her stomach rolled in protest to the sugar invasion, she conceded she probably should have taken it light on the sweet stuff.
“So, Falon really has nothing to do with this?” Marcy asked in disbelief as she made a show of examining Sarah’s rather unkempt appearance.
“I … don’t think so,” she mumbled into her mug. When Marcy put her hands on her hips and took her do-I-need-to-kick-a-dude’s-ass stance, she figured she ought to clarify.
“It’s not what you think,” she began while placing her mug on the counter where she eyed its contents longingly. All she wanted was a cup of coffee. Instead, she got the Marcy Monroe version of the Spanish Inquisition. She should have known better than to step foot out of her office today unless it was in the direction of the nearest exit.
“The last thing I remember about last night is him telling me to go upstairs and he’d be right up with a glass of water.” She shrugged. “I woke up under the covers and fully clothed at about four this morning.”
What she didn’t tell her friend was that Falon had obviously been in her room because on her nightstand sat a glass of tepid water and two aspirin. Nor did she tell her about the delicious dream that rocketed her into consciousness. They were filled with hot kisses and Falon’s talented hands. She suppressed the shudder of desire that shot through her. Some things were better kept to oneself, or at least between the participants in the dream. She wouldn’t mind finding out if Falon was as talented as his dream persona had been. She shook off the memories before things got embarrassing.
“Anyway, I’m here now with a headache the size of a small country, a mouth that feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton balls, and I have to spend the next six hours with nothing but a flimsy wall separating me from a potentially embarrassing situation.” She huffed and picked her mug of cooling coffee back up.
“Why would it be embarrassing?” Marcy asked, leaning her hip against the counter. Sarah forgot Marcy was tenacious when the situation called for it. Apparently this was one of those situations.
“I got a little tipsy last night, remember?”
“I would say a little more than tipsy.” Marcy snorted. “Why did you drink last night anyway?”
She felt herself blush as she shifted from one foot to the other. Should she tell the woman what she was up to and risk Falon finding out? Could she really keep it to herself much longer? She eyes Marcy again. Maybe she could be of some help …
“Okay, I’ll tell you,” she said, lowering her voice. “But you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. Not even Frank.”
Something in her voice must have conveyed how urgent it was that whatever she had to say not get out because Marcy suddenly looked very serious. It was either that or the woman was just looking for a juicy tidbit of gossip. Even if she couldn’t share it with anyone else, Marcy loved being in the know. After a beat of silence, Marcy promised to keep her lips sealed and she let loose the whole twisted story of her past interaction with Falon—though she may have edited a few things, her surprise at discovering him here and her plan to break him free from the shell of his rigid control.
Marcy stood silently through her whole story looking thoughtful. When Sarah finally ran out of words, she could only give her a helpless shrug. “I know it sounds crazy, but it drives me nuts that he has changed so much. You should have seen him back then, Marcy. If you think he’s hot now … Off. The. Charts.”
“What do you want me to do?” Marcy’s question surprised her. She had planned on asking her for advice, but she didn’t think that Marcy would go out and offer it. But now was not the time to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“After last night and the way Falon kept a lid on it, I don’t know what to do.” She looked at the other woman helplessly. She truly didn’t know what move to make next.
Marcy threw her head back and laughed. “You actually think the man kept his cool last night?” More laughter. “My dear, sweet, Sarah. He was nearly crazy with jealousy! Why do you think he threw that guy out of the club?”