Home > Heat Wave(18)

Heat Wave(18)
Author: Karina Halle

A rough hand glides over my ass before smacking it. One cheek. The other.

Crack.

CRACK.

His fingers glide down over the raw skin, down to where I’m wet and open.

They slide in with ease and I let out a moan, arching my back, wanting more.

So much more.

You may want to be quiet, he says as he reaches over and covers my mouth with his hand. No one can know but us. It will only ever be between us.

I don’t want to listen to what he’s saying. He’s speaking truth and truth has no place in a dream.

In fact, I can feel it start to pull me out. Awareness trickles in at the corners of the frame.

I fight against it. Keep my eyes closed, willing myself to succumb back into the moment.

“Please,” I manage to mutter against his hot palm.

How long have you wanted me? His voice is nearly a growl, rumbling inside my brain.

“Since the moment I met you.”

Will you stay quiet?

I nod but his hand tightens over my mouth.

He leans forward until his lips are at my ear. His teeth graze my lobe.

It should have been you, Veronica.

I feel the hard tip of his cock sliding over my wetness.

Logan pulls back slightly and I brace myself for him to slam inside me.

But the dream fades away, the sensation falling off like rain.

I’m barely awake but I’m turned on as hell, my hand between my legs, that half-conscious state where you’re aching to return to something your conscious mind would disown you over.

I drift off to sleep.

But I don’t dream again.

“Hawaii lesson number one,” a voice says, breaking into the inky darkness. For a moment I think I’m back in Chicago at my parent’s house, snoozing in the guest bedroom and maybe I fell asleep with the radio on.

But then it all comes back to me. Hawaii.

The dream.

Logan.

I lick my lips and groan, my hands skimming over my body, everything damp. Dear lord, did I sweat my way through that sex dream?

“When you leave the door open all night, you’ll wake up wet,” the voice goes on.

I slowly open my eyes, blinking hard at the light.

“And that’s not innuendo,” the voice adds.

A shadow passes over me and Kate’s face comes into focus.

Right. My new roommate.

Who looks like she wants to murder me.

“What?” I mumble and try to sit up, my head super swimmy. The light streaming in through the shades has this soft, airy quality to it, making me think it’s early in the morning.

Kate puts her hands on her slender hips and jerks her head to the screen door. “You left the door open all night.”

Did I? I barely remember doing anything. I mean I’m still wearing my clothes from yesterday. Thankfully. Because I half expected to wake up with my shorts half-off, my hand in my underwear.

“It was hot,” I tell her, my throat parched.

“You’ll get used to it,” she says, strutting out of the room. She’s wearing the tiniest boy shorts and I find myself both admiring her tiny, peach-shaped ass and envying it. No way I’m walking around like that. I have something called a booty and cellulite.

“But,” she continues, her voice coming from the kitchen, “it’s so hella humid here that everything will be soaked overnight. It will take days for our sheets to feel close to normal again.”

I sit up and run my hands over them. She’s right. They’re almost sticky.

“Sorry,” I tell her, feeling like a total boob. “Won’t happen again.”

“Oh I know. We always learn.”

I sigh, swinging my feet over the edge of the bed.

“Coffee?” Kate asks, appearing back in front of me with a mug in hand. “Wasn’t sure if you drank it or not but then I remember you’re a chef. It’s in your blood.”

I manage a smile and tell her thanks as I take the mug, not bothering to correct her that I’m not quite a chef yet. I hope to god that whatever moaning I was doing in my dream I wasn’t doing in real life. Jesus. What the hell was I doing having a sex dream about Logan anyway? I can practically still feel his breath at my back, the way he made me feel deep down in my soul, like I was finally submitting to something that had been denied to me for so long.

I shake my head.

“Jetlagged?” Kate asks. I look up to see her frowning at me.

“Oh. Well, yeah,” I tell her, busying myself with a sip of my coffee. At least she knows how to make a decent pot. “What time is it?”

“Six thirty,” she says. “Normally I wouldn’t expect you to get up when I get up but I remember the first week I was here, dealing with the time change. My eyes were open like bing! Every morning at four am. It was great actually. Got in some morning surfs. There’s nothing better.”

“You surf?” I ask her, folding my legs under me into a cross-legged position, the damn sheets sticking to my skin.

She gives me a look of disbelief. “Yes. It’s kind of what you do here.”

“Is that why you moved here?”

She seems to think that over, tilting her head until her dark hair falls half across her face. “I thought it was. I honestly just wanted to live in paradise. I thought coming here would make my life a million times better.”

“And did it?”

She gives me a look I can’t read. “Maybe. A job is a job. A home is a home. Why not have both those things in a place like this?” She nods to the ocean.

   
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