Dreamscape by Rose Anderson Page A

Occasionally she’d look at the cabinet door to see if it would actually move again. He was tempted, but a part of him was too afraid she’d leave, never to return. Then the moment he had waited the entire day for happened. She yawned.
    “You’re tired, you should rest,” he whispered. He could see the suggestion taking root in her mind. Putting her nearly full cup in the sink, she headed to bed.
    Watching her sleep, Jason sat beside her a long while thinking on how lovely she looked tonight. He would have loved to have been the man to take her out on the town, to the theater perhaps. Out for dinner, certainly. If his own kisses had swelled those luscious lips, he would have ventured from her sweet mouth to the tops of those exquisite breasts so tantalizingly displayed in the décolleté of her neckline. His entire being desired to lose himself in the living heat of her. There was simply no stopping himself from caressing her, having lost that particular battle of conscience the first night she lay in his bed. He’d convinced himself that as long as he kept his baser needs to himself, touching her while she was completely unaware was a harmless compulsion.
    Materializing just under the linens, his glowing form lit the sheet like a Japanese lantern. He whispered to her unconscious mind as she lay curled on her side, “Lay back for me, sweetheart, let me look at you fully while I feel how warm you are.”
    Unconsciously responding to his suggestion, she rolled on her back, one arm tossed casually over her pillow.
    Once more marveling that he was able to touch her at all, he swept her raven hair back from her lovely face, his thumb lightly tracing the delicate arch of her eyebrow. Touching her skin was like touching a rose petal in his garden, a warm sun-kissed rose petal. Gliding his hands over her warmth, he caressed her trim belly and arms all the while carefully avoiding the dove-soft breasts as any gentleman might unless given leave. Though it was true she hadn’t granted leave for any touching, the fragment of his gentlemanly comportment quickly faded as her living heat seeped into him.
    He imagined her then as he saw her in her dream—imagined he was alive and he’d taken her out for the evening. And in his musings he’d kiss her rose-tinted lips for the longest time and she’d come to his bed without hesitation. Maidenly airs aside, she’d want him as he wanted her. He’d leisurely undress her himself, slowly unlacing the corset she didn’t need to wear. He’d kneel at her feet to roll stockings down those beautiful smooth legs. He imagined he could smell the heated scent of her arousal because he was a flesh-and-blood man again. And while his imaginative yearnings delighted his fancy, his respectful touch had unconsciously grown bolder. Locked in his lustful musings, Jason hadn’t realized his glowing fingers moved of their own volition to sweep back and forth over her mound. For the second time since she’d come to his house, his fingertips lingered on those velvet lips and the extra warmth just between.
    Lanie moaned softly in her sleep but didn’t wake, lost as she was in a most erotic dream. Bending her knees slightly, she opened her thighs and unconsciously rose to meet the unseen hand. She mumbled something unintelligible.
    Jason couldn’t quite make out her words but it sounded like she murmured his name.
    You want me. A wash of desire seized him. His gaze burned a swath from her beautiful face to the tantalizing view she offered in her sleep. Unable to help himself, he moved to her breast and for the first time smelled the scent of her sweet, flowery perfume overlaid by the warmed by her skin. Closing his lips around the sleep-soft nipple, he suckled her gently while he caressed her other breast. Her back unconsciously arching, she made a soft sound and her knees widened to his sweeping fingers. Beside himself with the wonder of it, he whispered “Yes, sweetheart, you want more.” God help