Double Dating with the Dead (5 page)

S
elena snuggled her pillow closer, caught between trying to wake up and the delicious dream that had begun to unfold.

Trent was in her dream, and he didn't have to say a word. He wore a banged-up cowboy hat pulled low on his forehead, but it didn't stop her from seeing the hunger in his eyes.

Her gaze slid over him. Nice. His leather vest looked sexy without a shirt beneath it. Just enough skin showed to make her hot and bothered.

And if that wasn't enough to make her drool, his jeans rode low on his hips, the top two buttons undone. A dark vee of hair disappeared into his white briefs. She wanted to see how far the trail of dark hair went. Just thinking about tugging his pants down and having a nice long look make her body burn.

Wake up!

No! Go back to sleep!

He was her sworn enemy. They'd barely tolerated each other all day; then they'd gone to their rooms without even a good night to each other. Not that she'd wanted him to say anything to her. He was an egotistical pain in the butt.

She fought to open her eyes, but they were so heavy and sleep won.

“Go away,” she told him. She didn't care how delicious he looked.

He shook his head, a smile playing around his lips.

She struggled one more time to awaken, but when he began to unbutton his vest…well, forget that. Hell, it
was
only a dream. No harm no foul. She could enjoy the moment without recriminations.

“I want you.” His words were husky, reaching out and caressing her. Then it wasn't just his words, but his hand sliding over her body with purpose.

Her gaze slid downward. Oh, yes, she could definitely tell that he wanted her. But then, the feeling was mutual. And since this was a dream, she didn't have anything to be shy about.

She looked down. She was wearing a sexy red negligee trimmed in black. Why would she dream this outfit? She didn't own a red negligee.

“You're something else.” He flung his vest away and reached for her, and all thoughts of what she was wearing were swept away as she willingly went into his arms.

His mouth closed over hers. Ahh, nice firm lips, just as she'd suspected. But this was her fantasy dream, so of course they would be exactly as she wanted.

He tasted like mint toothpaste and heat. Lots and lots of heat.

Could someone taste when they were dreaming?

Apparently so, since she could taste Trent, and she felt his hands caressing her back, cupping her bottom and pulling her in closer, tighter against his erection.

He pulled away, trailing his lips down her neck, leaving his mark with a gentle nip of his teeth. “Tell me you want me just as much as I want you.”

“This is only a dream,” she murmured.

“It feels real; you feel real.”

He cupped her breast, running his thumb back and forth over the hard nipple. She clutched his shoulders and moaned. In one easy motion, he had her out of her negligee and standing naked in front of him. He stepped back, taking his time, as he looked his fill.

“You're just as I imagined. All soft and curvy.” He stepped closer and lowered his head to her breast.

The fire began to build inside her, settling in the juncture of her legs. Smoldering heat that threatened to burst into flames and consume her as his tongue scraped over her nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

She moaned and pressed closer. It had been so long since she'd even come close to any kind of fire that she wanted to relish this flame for as long as it would last.

Her hands roamed over his hard body. He definitely worked out. Typing all day did not create these kinds of muscles.

He moved his mouth from her breast, but before she even had time to protest, he'd picked her up and carried her to bed. Ahh, how convenient there was a bed in her dream.

The down-filled mattress enveloped her. She snuggled into its softness and sighed with pleasure. Why couldn't she have dreams like this all the time?

Trent joined her, his naked body pressing against hers as he lay beside her. Oh, yes, this was what she was talking about. It had been too damn long since she'd had hard male flesh pressing against her.

“You have the body of a temptress,” he murmured as he tugged on her nipple, then began to massage her breast. She arched toward his hand.

“That feels good,” she said.

“I've imagined touching you like this all day,” he admitted. “Taking your breast in my mouth and sucking until your nipple was a hard little nub. Just like it is right now.” He tweaked it between his finger and thumb.

She gasped. Yes, this was good, but she wanted more. Oh, God, she needed so much more.

“What else did you think about doing to me?” Her imagination ran wild as she thought of places where he could put his hands, his mouth and other parts of his body. She grew damp just thinking about it.

“Everything you've ever dreamed about,” he whispered close to her ear, then trailed his hand down her abdomen, brushing lightly through her curls.

Her body throbbed, her legs trembled, as she opened them wider.

“I want to kiss you…all over,” he said, continuing to torment. His fingers caressed the insides of her thighs. Up one side and down the other. He teased her unmercifully.

“Please, Trent.”

“Please, what?”

His breath tickled her face. She whimpered.

“Please, this?” He ran his wet finger up her sex, then back down.

“Take me,” she groaned. He was slowly killing her with his words.

“No regrets?” he asked.

She shook her head, opening her legs, wanting him to nestle his body between her thighs and bury himself deep inside her.

“Even when I have to ruin your career?” he asked.

She jerked to a sitting position.

What?

It took a second for her brain to begin to work properly. Her body was on fire with need. The need to feel Trent inside her.

No, no, no. She'd been about to have sex. Really good sex. She glanced around the room. It was dark. Trent wasn't in her room, and she was in her own bed. Alone. She fell back against the mattress. Oh, damn, it had only been a dream.

“Thank goodness?”

Yeah, she sounded real positive.

Okay, maybe not thank goodness. Tears filled her eyes. Why the hell had she awakened? She was just getting to the good part.

She punched her pillow again and plopped back on it. It seemed she couldn't even have sex in a dream. What the hell was her life coming to? No, that was the problem. She wasn't coming. Not even in a damn dream.

She was in really sad shape. Note to self: as soon as the two weeks were up, she was going to have more of a social life. At least more sex.

She closed her eyes and envisioned sheep jumping over a white fence. One sheep. Two sheep. Three sheep….

One look at her clock an hour later, and she wanted to scream. She punched her pillow and flopped over to her other side. Damn Trent for tormenting her dreams as well as her waking hours.

“Eighteen hundred and one friggin' sheep,” she growled. “Eighteen hundred and two…”

 

Trent dragged his eyes open. Damn, he felt like crap. He lay in bed for a moment as he oriented himself to his surroundings.

Not his bed unless it had grown lumps in the middle of the night.

When his vision had sufficiently cleared, he glanced around the room.

Not his room.

Had he been shanghaied?

He closed his eyes again. When he reopened them, it hit him. The old hotel…Selena.

Selena. He groaned. God, what a dream. She was standing in front of him in a red nightgown, her hard little nipples pressing against the thin material. All he could think about was stripping it off her and having hot sex the rest of the night. Then, before he knew what was happening, he was doing just that.

He'd never had a dream that vivid. It had been so damn real. Then something happened. A branch against the window, maybe someone had accidentally honked his horn. Whatever it had been, it woke him up.

If it had been a person…may they rot in hell.

He untangled his legs from the twisted covers and sat up on the side of the bed. His head pounded as if he'd just come off a weeklong drunk. God, he needed coffee.

But he didn't move. Instead, he closed his eyes and thought about last night. Selena had wanted him—at least in his dream. Why the hell would he even dream about them making love? Not that it had gone that far. No, he'd been jerked from slumber just as it was getting interesting.

There was no doubt about it; he had to get out more. Just as soon as the two weeks were over.

But first he had to have coffee. He pulled on his jeans and slid his feet into a pair of loafers. At the last minute he grabbed a sweatshirt out of his suitcase and tugged it over his head, combed his fingers through his hair and stumbled into the bathroom. A few minutes later, he made his way into the kitchen.

He glanced around. No Selena. Not that it mattered. He wasn't a morning person. Never had been and wasn't about to start. Coffee. That was all he needed first thing. He damn sure didn't need her sultry smile.

After removing the basket, he tossed a filter in and dumped four scoops of coffee into it—then one more for good measure. He added water and punched the
ON
button. His head pounded. A steady thump-thump. He leaned against the cabinet door, eyes closed.

“Oh, good, you have the coffee on,” a female voice seeped into his slightly unconscious state of mind.

He opened one eye and turned his head just enough that he could see Selena. What was she doing? Torturing him?

Of course she is, stupid. She's trying to con you.

Damn, she was wearing a sassy pink halter top that left most of her back exposed except for the two, very thin crisscrossed ties, and a full skirt that was in a rainbow of pastel colors. And she wasn't wearing a bra, unless it was backless, and the way her breasts had a slight little bounce to them, he didn't think she was.

He swallowed hard. This was dirty pool. But he'd get even. Although he had a feeling if he walked around in his underwear, it wouldn't have the same effect on her.

She was cheating.

He opened his other eye and watched as she went to the table and set down a white box before turning back to him.

“I'll trade you a chocolate-iced doughnut for a cup of coffee,” she said.

When she closed her eyes and inhaled, her chest expanded, her breasts pushing against the little pink top. He barely stopped himself from groaning.

“I don't eat breakfast,” he grumbled.

She opened her eyes and frowned.

Okay, he'd cut her a little slack. Besides, he was still human, even if he didn't feel like it right now, and he did have a few manners. “You can have a cup of coffee as long as you make the next pot.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Deal.” She studied him.

“What?” he finally asked.

“Not a morning person, are you?”

“How'd you guess?”

As the coffee dripped into the glass pot, he reached into the cabinet for a cup, paused, then brought out another one.

“You haven't shaved.”

“And your point is?”

“Most men look good with a slight stubble. Kind of
Miami Vice
sexy. A little rough around the edges.”

He poured two cups of coffee, handing her one. So, she thought he was sexy. He'd known she wanted him. Yep, she was hot for his bod. His morning was looking better and better.

She took a drink of her coffee and sighed, then looked up. “You're different.”

“I like my coffee strong.”

“No, the coffee is fine.” She took hers to the small table and pulled out a chair. “I mean different as in the scruffy look.”

“Different?” He blew on his coffee and took a drink.

“Yeah, kind of like you just came off a hell of a bender. Your eyes are puffy, too. You definitely don't have the
Miami Vice
thing going for you.”

It was all he could do to swallow what he had in his mouth. He glared at her as she casually opened the box and removed a doughnut, biting into it.

“Oh, these are really good. You should try one.”

“No, thank you.” He yanked out the chair across from her and made himself comfortable. His gaze slowly slid over her. “I guess you're a morning person.” Yeah, he sounded sarcastic, and he didn't give a damn.

And the more he watched her, the more he knew there was something about her that didn't quite ring true. Her eyes looked tired—the kind of tired that makeup couldn't cover up. He had a feeling she hadn't slept any better than he had. Lumpy mattress? He'd almost bet her dreams hadn't been X-rated.

She shrugged. “Sometimes I'm a morning person, sometimes I'm not. It just depends. I like to sleep in, especially in the winter.”

He reached inside the box and took a doughnut. He didn't want to think about her snuggled down in the bed, the covers wrapped around her and her naked beneath them. All he wanted to do was drink his coffee, then shave. Although he might not, just in case his scruffy appearance irritated her. And once he was fully awake, he'd work on his next book.
The Truth About Selena James: Nutcase
.

“Good coffee.” She stood.

“Aren't you supposed to fix the next pot?” he reminded her.

When she turned, her skirts swirled around her legs. Damn, she had nice legs.

“We made a deal,” she said. “If you shared your pot, I'd make the next one in return.”

Selena was driving him nuts.

“And?” he asked.

She nodded toward the box of doughnuts. “You inhaled three of the doughnuts. I figure we're even.” She whirled back around and waltzed out of the room pretty as you please. His gaze dropped and didn't rise until she was out of sight.

She had a nice twist in her walk.