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I…don’t know.

Is he…

Is he really kissing my face right now?

Maybe I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming. This is exactly like one of my daydreams.

Much too soon, he pulls away, regarding me out of the corner of his eye, down past the hard line of his frowning mouth. I melt into a puddle, then that puddle simmers under his continued scrutiny.

Without any warning, Wynnter takes my hand and drags me to the master bedroom. For many moments, I’m convinced this must be a daydream. Just another one of my many, perfect, wonderful daydreams.

He pushes me into his stunning, updated marble bathroom. He starts the three showerheads—including the rainfall one he installed himself. Then he rips off his shirt.

My heart pounds, and I wonder why I’m losing my nerve so quickly. If this is a daydream, I’ve imagined far more scandalous things happening between us.

Yet I squeak when he—bare-chested—spins me around and presses me into the cold wall by his sink. I watch in the mirror as he pushes my hair aside, fingertips raising goosebumps on my flesh. Carefully, he pinches the zipper of my dress. Each catch coming undone thunders in my head, and I decide I’m not daydreaming. I’m actual dreaming. Because I must be dreaming. Because it’s a little too real for a daydream, but my vivid brain often convinces itself I can feel a multitude of things in my regular dreams.

His kiss sears against my back, branding my body as his. “Start talking, Dece. Tell me. How do you feel about me?”

“I love you,” I say, shivering, praying this dream doesn’t end for a long while yet. I don’t want the morning to come. I don’t want to lose this.

His full palm slips around my hip to my stomach, and his fingers spread against the soft bulge of my curves. “You do?”

“Yes.”

A low sound rumbles by my head as he hunches over me, lips teasing the shell of my ear. “Can you prove it? What would you do for me, right here, right now, to prove that you love me?”

Butterflies take flight in my veins, graze the sensation of his fingers holding my tummy, and promptly explode. “What…would you like me to do?”

“Kiss me.” Commanding, he turns me around and pushes my belly until my bare back is flat against the icy wall. “Kiss me like I’m your air and you’ve been starved of it for several, long, cruel months.”

With dizziness swelling in my head as steam from the shower fills the space between us, I’m beginning to think I have been suffocating for months. Shaking, I lift my hands to his shoulders. Bare, warm flesh greets my fingertips. “I…haven’t kissed anyone before. But I’ll do my best.”

Fury snaps in his eyes, and my arms hit the wall above my head as he grips my wrists together and pins. “You’ve never kissed someone before, huh?” he murmurs, pinching my chin in his free hand. “Never once?”

Embarrassment coats me. “I…was sheltered…and…when my parents finally let me go to public school, I…met you. I…I’ve been in love with you ever since. Why would I kiss anyone else?”

Crass, he swears past a snarl. Then he releases me. Steps back. Sinks his fingers into his hair and tugs on the dark strands. “What the—” Swear. “What the—” Swear. “What the—” Swear. Breath saws in and out of him.

“W-Wyn—mmphf.”

His mouth closes over mine, and I lose my ever-lovin’ mind. The first sound that escapes me makes him growl my name and another curse into my mouth. Fragile praises slip from him to dance along my tongue. Good girl and yes and just like that. And…

Am I dreaming?

Something about this is so stable. So secure. So real.

It’s rough, and harried, and desperate. His facial hair scratches while his teeth roam, nipping and claiming.

Before I’m ready, he breaks the connection, holds me in place by my chin and throat so I can’t chase his lips, and fixes a wicked smile on me.

Needless to say, I fall in love all over again.

Running his tongue over his bottom lip, he scans me. Then he chuckles, lowering his hand to tug on the collar of my clothes. “This is cute. You look so cozy. I didn’t know they made turtleneck dresses.”

I flutter.

“You’ve been a good girl.”