did.
So escape the apartment! If she ran as fast as she could, sprinted out of here, maybe she could break the cycle. Maybe she could find help. She was paralyzed, could barely move despite the instincts screaming at her, but she fought with every drop of willpower in her system. She swung her feet to the floor. As soon as her bare toes met the hardwood, she lurched forward, rushing blindly through her room, through an inexplicable maze of rooms, out her front door.
Elation pumped through her. She wasn’t trapped. She wasn’t cornered and defenseless.
Once she reached the safety of the hallway, she slammed her door shut, lightheaded with relief. If dreams were bound by logic, she should worry that any intruder in the apartment could easily catch up to her here in the hallway. But the fact that she’d been able to safely cross the threshold gave her confidence; the closed door wasn’t just a slab of wood, it was freedom, and she laughed out loud.
I did it!
A moment later the door across the hall opened, and her subconscious rewarded her burgeoning courage with Jack Reed in only a pair of black shorts. Her throat went dry at the sight of his chest and toned arms. It wasn’t until she saw him that she noticed what she was wearing—a lacy blue chemise that looked nothing like the oversize T-shirts she normally wore to bed.
Jack’s gaze traveled over her in slow, appreciative perusal that made her skin tingle. “Thought I heard someone out here.”
“I was on my way to your place. I...” Inspiration seized her. There were no repercussions in fantasies, only wanton pleasure. “I wondered if I could take you up on that offer to practice strip poker.”
Reaching forward, he took her hand and led her into his apartment. “With as little as either of us are wearing? This could be a very short game.” He slid his fingers beneath the straps holding up her nightgown, his touch a tantalizing rasp against her skin. His smile was wicked. “You already admitted you aren’t good at poker, so let’s assume I won.” With one fierce tug, he stripped her bare.
She crooked a thumb in the elastic of his shorts. “Let’s assume it was a tie.” The shorts didn’t slide down as easily, impeded by a sizable erection, but a moment later they were both naked.
Need thrummed through her. It had been so agonizingly long since she’d felt like this, since a man had touched her. She rose up on tiptoe, and he met her halfway, tracing her lips, licking his tongue into her mouth, stoking the fire that raged through her. She gloried in letting that need burn out of control, desperate to go up in flames with Jack.
His hands dropped from her waist to brush over the curves of her ass, kneading, pulling her tighter against his body. She moaned at the steely heat of him, pressed so close to where she wanted him to be. Between kisses, he walked them backward, grabbing a blanket from his couch and tossing it to the ground. Then he was lowering her to the floor. He palmed one breast, his eyes locked on hers. “Tell me what you like.”
You. She was too aroused to think in specifics or form words. Instead, she tried to show him how much she liked his touch by arching into his hand, pleasure rocking through her when he rubbed his thumb over a hardened nipple. The nerves there tightened even further, and she felt every pluck of his fingers straight to her core. He turned his head to her other breast, kissing a line across the slope to the aching peak. Then her entire existence was hot suction and the sensual scrape of teeth and her own mindless gyrations as her body moved of its own accord. His mouth was still at her nipple when he thrust into her, and she clenched around him.
He propped himself up on his arms, the muscles standing out in corded relief, and watched her face as he withdrew and entered again. She bent her knees to accommodate more of him, to feel him more deeply, and he raised her leg over his shoulder, slamming into her with the intensity she craved. He laced his fingers through hers on either side of her head, holding her in place, a willing captive to this raw, inescapable bliss. Her hips rose to meet his each time he drove into her, bringing her closer and closer, until she was quaking.
And then she was tumbling over the brink, her body trembling with satisfaction as she—
Riley’s eyes shot open, her ragged breathing the only sound in the dark room as her orgasm rippled through her. A dream. It had been a dream. She’d known that, at some point, but the physical sensations had been so powerful she’d forgotten. She swallowed hard, riding out the last pulsing throbs of climax.
Sex with Jack might not have been real, but the pleasure had been.
She switched on her bedside lamp, ignoring the questioning look the dog shot her from the foot of the bed, and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. As she passed through her living room, she couldn’t help glancing at her front door. What would happen if she showed up at Jack’s and suggested strip poker in real life?
Don’t be ridiculous. It’s three in the morning, and your real-life pajamas have zero sex appeal. Plus, just today, Jack had commented that he was enjoying his drama-free bachelorhood, uninterested in seeing anyone. During waking hours, it was smarter to keep their friendship platonic.
But if he made an encore appearance in her dreams? Her body heated at the memory and, for the first time in months, she found herself actually looking forward to falling asleep.
RILEY PARKED IN her parents’ driveway Thursday evening, glad to see her father’s truck. She hadn’t been sure if he would be home from work yet, but she was hoping to enlist his help.
Larry Kendrick’s habit was to hide behind newspapers or sports magazines and let his wife make household decisions. When Riley was younger, she’d briefly wondered if it was because the burly man wasn’t as interested in the girly details of his daughters’ lives. But the truth was, he was a giant teddy bear who adored his daughters and would have spoiled them rotten without Sheryl Kendrick to counterbalance his indulgent tendencies. Organized and efficient, Sheryl tolerated zero nonsense—she could silence rowdy kids at the library where she worked with nothing more than a raised eyebrow. She would be the tough nut to crack.
As she unbuckled her seat belt, Riley turned to her passenger. “Your job is to be as adorable as possible. Don’t chew anything, and whatever happens, do not pee in my mother’s house.” Riley wasn’t too worried, though. Mags was way past puppy teething and had only had one accident in the past forty-eight hours.
At the veterinary clinic this morning, Dr. Juliet Burke had declared Mags a fully grown dog. “She’s probably younger than two years, but technically an adult. The kind of dog she is, she’ll always have this puppyish appearance.” Juliet had flashed Riley a conspiratorial, woman-to-woman grin. “Looking young forever—she’s living the dream!”
Riley hadn’t even realized she’d subconsciously settled on a name for the dog until she’d called to schedule the vet appointment. She’d spent hours on Wednesday posting found-dog flyers and talking to shopkeepers up and down Magnolia Street; when the clinic receptionist had asked for the pet’s name, Riley had responded “Mags” without hesitation.
She unzipped the gym bag she was still using as a de facto pet carrier. After a couple of days of being in and out of the car, Mags had become a pretty complacent travel partner. She now wore a bright pink collar, and Riley snapped on the leash she’d purchased.
“Okay. Showtime.” They made their way up the sidewalk, and Riley grinned at the
