Author: J.D. Tyler

Glancing briefly down at herself, she looked up again and smiled. "I had on jeans and a T-shirt, but when I saw you-poof! New clothes. Dreams are great, huh?"

Cocking his head, he felt a slow grin spread across his face. "You changed for me?"

She shrugged. "That's a woman's prerogative, isn't it?"

"Sure. It's just that when we met, you didn't strike me as the type to go out of your way to impress a man by wearing snazzy clothes and makeup."

A hand fisted on one hip and her eyes narrowed. "Why, because I'm a cop? Because even if I can't do something cool like turn into a wolf, I could still probably get you in a choke hold and take you down like a petty thief?"

He laughed. God, she was beautiful, especially when she was annoyed. How could he ever have believed she wasn't the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen? "No. Okay, maybe," he admitted, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "At ease, officer. I try to take people at face value when I meet them, that's all. You struck me as being a very earthy and honest, no-frills lady. I liked that."

"But you don't like this?"

"Of course I do, honey. I'm a guy." Well, damn, that didn't sound like much of a compliment. He sucked at this. "But on you it looks extra hot. Smokin'." There. Better.

"Then I guess you don't need that paper to find the fantasy you were searching for."

Lips turned up in a catlike smile, she closed the distance between them and reached up, running a nail down the side of his face. Down his neck, and his chest. His cock pulsed painfully behind his zipper as he stared at her, asking himself if he'd won the lottery or been plunged into hell.

"I can't." Taking her wrist in a gentle grip, he removed her hand.

"Why not?"

"For one, you're the sister of my good friend, who will kick my ass when he gets better and finds out I took advantage of her."

"Funny, I don't see it that way. Maybe I'm taking advantage of you." She pressed her front to his, her warmth, her ocean-and-flowers scent making him light-headed.

"Rowan, we just met." The argument sounded weak. His wolf agreed.

"You wouldn't have said that was a problem with any of those women," she said, gesturing to the news dispenser.

"You're not like them." No, she's worth one hundred of them. More.

"You don't think so?"

"No."

She appeared pleased by this. "Good. Just because it's been way too long and I have a need to scratch an itch with one man in particular doesn't make me a slut. Well, much." Her free hand wormed underneath the edge of his T-shirt, smoothed over his flat belly. Crept lower, to the button of his jeans.

Scratch an itch? Why didn't he like the sound of that? In the past, that's exactly the term he would've used, but with Rowan... it didn't seem like the right description. He did like one part of what she'd said, though.

"You've been thinking of being with me?" Please say yes.

"Every minute of going on two days, since we rescued you guys." Her intense gaze held him immobile. "I'm drawn to you and I don't understand it."

"Sexually?"

"Yes. But it feels like more, too. Do we have to analyze it here and now?"

"God, no! This is our dream, and we can do what we want."

"Anything?"

"Tell me want you want."

"You."

She brought her mouth to his, and Jesus, her lips were soft. Kissable. One of her arms slid around his neck while the other hand pressed to his crotch. Rubbed the hard rod straining to get free. Groaning, he deepened the kiss, desperate for a taste. So good, better than he'd hoped. Their tongues tangled, bodies ground together, fanning the flames of desire.

Breaking the kiss, she panted, gripping his shirt in one fist. "You want to hear my fantasy?"

"Like you can't believe."

"I want you to take me in there," she said, pointing at the entrance to the Golden Nugget. "And I want you to fuck me right on top of a blackjack table."

Aric almost choked. "Holy shit! You're not serious. Are you?"

"Why not? It's only a dream."

That was a suggestion he wasn't about to refuse. Grabbing her hand, he dragged her toward the casino as she laughed joyously in a low, husky voice. The sound sent a thrill down his spine, so sexy he almost came in his jeans. Jogging, he pulled her down an aisle of slot machines, looking for the tables. Any table would be fine for him, but Rowan wanted a blackjack table and she'd have it if he had to search forever.

In a semisecluded alcove off the main gaming room were some tables. An unoccupied blackjack table was there waiting, as if he'd wished it into existence. Weird. But not as strange as the other gamblers' being faceless, sort of blurry, like his brain couldn't conjure individual features, so they were simply avatars. He pulled Rowan up to the table and positioned her, back against the edge.

"Stay just like that. I'm going to enjoy peeling off every inch of that getup."

"What if I want to undress you?"

"You'll get your turn." He winked. "In the next dream."

"You're sure there'll be a next one?"

"A guy can hope."

Taking the hem of her shirt, he pulled the material over her head and tossed it away. Her full breasts were almost spilling over a lacy black bra, and he resisted the urge to lick his lips. Instead he flicked the front clasp and parted the cups, revealing a gorgeous pair of breasts tipped by dusky nipples that perked under his attention. Especially when he rolled them between his fingers, plucking them to firm peaks.

Bracing her hands on the table's edge, she arched her back with a moan of pleasure. Moving between her spread thighs, he leaned into her, cupping one pretty globe and flicking the nipple with his tongue. The sweet flavor of her skin burst on his taste buds, pure delight-to him and his wolf. The beast in him growled, wanting more. All she would give.

Kneeling, he grasped the waistband of her leathers and paused, looking up to be sure this was truly all right. If not, he'd stop. He'd be left with a serious case of blue balls, but he would never force a woman. The wicked twinkle in her eyes and a slight nod was all the green light he needed.

Unbuttoning and unzipping the pants, he began to peel them down, half expecting to see a scrap of lacy black undies to match the bra. A neat thatch of dark curls greeted him instead, and lust almost sent him over. His blood ran hot, the fire within stoked to boiling.

"Figured they'd only get in the way," she said in a husky voice, as though reading his mind.

A witty reply lodged in his throat as he uncovered long, toned thighs and those muscular buttocks. By the time he pulled off her boots and finished with the pants, he was damned near salivating. Rowan was more than perfection.

"You're a goddess."

She laid a hand on top of his head as he urged her legs to a wider stance. The scent of her sex combined with her unique ocean fragrance was ambrosia, enough to drive him wild. Gently, he parted her folds and tasted the little clit. She squirmed, tightened her grip on his head, encouraging him to take more.

Glad to oblige, he laved her slit, giving her as much pleasure as he knew how, getting her nice and wet. Then he tongue-fucked the slick channel, playing with the nub of her clit at the same time, until she yanked on his hair.

"Please! I need you in me."

Pushing to his feet, he wiped his mouth and grinned. "Anything the lady wants."

"I want to not feel like a lady right now," she retorted, beckoning him with a finger.

"I think I can deliver." At last he freed his erection, shoving his jeans down his hips. "Up on the table you go, on your back."

He helped her up, and after she was lying down, he hooked his arms under her knees and pulled her forward, until her bottom was off the edge and being supported by him. Knees shaking with anticipation, he draped her legs over his shoulders, lifting her rear. The head of his leaking cock was pointed at the dewy mound he couldn't wait to bury himself inside.

Inching in slowly, his gasp joined hers. If any woman had felt so fine hugging his cock, he couldn't remember it. Her velvet heat encased him like a glove made for him. He sank into her slowly, watching in fascination as his length disappeared. When he was fully seated he basked in the sensation, until she bucked her hips and arched her back.

"Oh, God. Fuck me, Aric," she demanded. "Fuck me like you mean it!"

That's all it took to break his control. Withdrawing slowly, he then slammed home, shaking the table and causing his lover to cry out in bliss. He pulled out faster, slammed in. Out and in, and soon he was plunging into her pussy like a piston, reaching the point of no return faster than he wanted.

But it was good. So fucking good, he couldn't stop the come that shot from his balls as he shouted, filling her up. Spasming again and again, riding the waves of her climax as well as his own. Her head tossed from side to side, fingernails digging into the green surface of the blackjack table. When the last of the waves subsided and she went limp, he carefully withdrew and offered her a hand to sit up.

"You were amazing," he praised, kissing her lips.

"Not too shabby yourself." She flicked his bottom lip with her tongue. "Too bad it wasn't real."

Her words sent an unexpected blade into his heart. "What?"

"Dream," she reminded him. "Not real."

"Sure felt real to me." He didn't miss the bereft note in his voice, but hoped she hadn't noticed.

Turning away, he saw that the rest of the casino had vanished. Blinking, he spun back to Rowan-but she wasn't there anymore, either. Shit!

"Rowan? Hey!"

Confused, he started to run... and stepped off into empty air.

Fell.

And jolted awake, safe in his own bed. Pulse thrumming in his throat, he glanced around, seeing that nothing had changed. His bedroom. His things.

"God, it did seem real."

His body certainly thought it was, too. A glance at his lap and the sheet confirmed they were drenched in come, his erection still at half-mast. Some dream. Only, what if it wasn't?

Running a hand down his sweaty face, he became aware of how very hot it was in the room. Or maybe the room was fine and he was the one overheated, after the mind-blowing encounter he'd just had. Whichever, the temperature was unbearable, so he got up and ran a cold shower.

He washed, and stood under the spray until he no longer felt like he was about to spontaneously combust, then got out and dried off. Better. But was his face still a little warm? He couldn't tell, and was too tired to think about the dream or anything else right now. But he had to change the sheets.

Stumbling to the bed, he stripped off the dirty bedding, balled it up, and tossed it into a corner. He stared at the mattress, bare except for the fitted pad, and decided he just couldn't be bothered to deal with making it up. Later.

He took only a couple of seconds to yank on a clean pair of boxers and flopped across the bed.

This time, when he slept, it was deep and dark.

And dreamless.

Chapter Seven

Rowan awoke from her nap gradually, her body still humming from the awesome dream she'd had, with Aric in the starring role.

Tentatively, she touched between her legs and even found herself moist with her own come. When in the hell had she ever had such a vivid dream of sex with a man? Never. Hadn't known it was possible, not to that degree of detail.

She could still smell him on her skin, musky and male. She envisioned exactly how he'd pierced her with those striking green eyes as he'd eaten her out, and the satisfaction on his face as he'd fucked her into next week, that glorious auburn hair falling over his chest and the swirling tattoo.

As she'd told him, too bad it wasn't real.