Chapter 38

I didn't think I would ever fall asleep. The idea that Charles Rafe, the boy I'd dreamed about every night of my teenage life, was laying on my couch in the form of a full-grown sexy man made me toss and turn.

Go back out there, Elena, I told myself. Who cares about your reputation or what bad path it might lead to. Take Cathy's advice. It can go both ways. You can use each other.

I must have finally fallen asleep, however, because I was suddenly sitting with Cathy in the cafeteria of our old school, only it was the later, adult versions of us.

"What's the worst that can happen if you go out there?" she asked.

"I'm never taken seriously again and have to move?"

"Away from me? Then never mind. Don't do it."

She was suddenly one of the orphans from Mrs. Addison's, the one named Charlotte. "Are you sure you don't want to try? You've always been lonely, and his company isn't bad, even if it's not everything you want."

I looked at her sadly. "That's exactly why I need to hold out. My pride and myself are all I have. I don't have a family; I don't have a mate. I need to stay strong."

"Besides," I said to the frowning little girl. "He may not even want me anymore."

The ground beneath me seemed to shift, and I felt like I was plummeting backward. My mind adjusted and I realized I wasn't falling, but something was happening to my bed.

The mattress behind me was sinking and a hot, warm body whose vetiver scent I immediately recognized was at my back.

I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or awake. My mind was groggy.

I reached back with my hand and felt his firm thigh. If it was a dream, I thought, I was going to make the most of it. If it was real, well, I decided to insist it was a dream.

I shifted my body back until I was flush against him, pulled the blankets closer around me, and sighed.

I reached awkwardly back again until I found his arm and pulled it around me with the blankets, snuggling my face down into his fragrant forearm and making sure every part of my back could feel his body.

There was a thick, hot hardness around his thigh area that pushed firmly against my lower back and my heart began to thump heavily as it continued to grow and harden.

I shifted my body back into it and heard a quick intake of breath behind me. His arm pulled me closer and he shifted against me, his breath hitching, his inhales deep in my hair.

My mind was buzzing with sleepy pleasure, his breath hot and comforting on my neck. A leg like a tree trunk wrapped around mine and I realized I was pinned to him, unable to move even if I wanted to.

But why would I ever want to move?

He went still, and the rise and fall of his chest made me wonder if my dream visitor was even conscious or if he'd fallen asleep.

If indeed he was real at all.

His warmth and his breathing lulled me, the heat between my legs cooled as he refused to move any more, his limbs keeping me still.

I'm swaddled up like a baby, I thought, only it's his body that's holding me.

The thought made me feel safe, protected, and sleepy. The warm darkness of my bedroom with the dream of Charles in it overtook me and I dreamed nothing more the rest of the night.

I woke with a start the next morning, my limbs curled tightly around myself.

There was no Charles.

I sat up and looked out my open door. I couldn't hear or see anything.

I got up, glanced at my face and hair in a mirror and peeked around my door toward the living room.

Nothing.

"Crap," I whispered, still not knowing what to think. I tip-toed out and looked around. He definitely wasn't there.

My entire body slumped, though with relief or disappointment, I wasn't sure.

A note sat on the counter.

Good morning, Elena. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I said I'd leave late. I didn't anticipate you'd let me pass out from a sugar coma. I've taken the last two cupcakes to continue the sugar rush for breakfast and I will see you at the office. My driver will text when he's close.

Charles.

I put the note down. There was no mention of him being in my bed, only the mention of the couch.

So I dreaming after all?

I wondered how I didn’t hear him leave and if he'd poked his head into my room. What if I'd been sleeping with my mouth open?

I groaned with embarrassment, looked at the time, and groaned again. I was already twenty minutes behind my usual schedule.

I went back into my bedroom and looked at my bed. It seemed exactly the same. I pulled back the blankets but there was no Charles-sized indentation.

I didn't know if I was relieved or disappointed.

I was about to turn away when I spotted a dark, short hair under the pillow toward the top. I pounced on it and picked it up.

I tried to get a scent, but it was too small. But it did look like his.

My heart began to thud all over again. Was my dream a reality? Had Charles Rafe actually gotten into bed with me?

I tried to sniff myself for his scent but ended up spinning in silly circles trying to sniff my back. Then I tried my hair. It smelled a bit of vetiver, but then again, we had been snuggling on the couch.

"How do I get myself into these situations?" I lamented aloud and went to the bathroom.

I showered with extra body wash, just in case, and was drying my hair when my phone buzzed. The driver was a half hour out.

I texted Cathy good morning as I fumbled into my clothes and gathered my bag and supplies together.

She knew from my tone that something was up and called me back instead of texting.

"You never text me a simply good morning," she said.

"I don't?" I was hopping up and down, trying to get on a shoe.

"It was like a cry for help in text form. What happened?"

I flopped on the bed and told her about my maybe dream and the hair on the pillow.

"Whew, get it girl!" she said. "Good for you!"

"No, Cathy, I can't give in. If I give in for a moment I'll lose myself totally. I'll burst into flame from the passion, I swear."

"That is the most romantic thing I've ever heard."

"Not when he doesn't like me back."

There was a brief silence.

I used the opportunity to go out on my balcony and looked for the car.

"Whatever you do, don't panic," she said more calmly now. "His hair could have been on you from the couch part. There's no evidence to suggest he was in your bed rubbing up on you, as much as we may want that to have happened."

"I don't know if wanted..."

"Okay, okay, Elena! As much as I wanted it to happen."

"What should I do?" I asked as I saw the car pull onto my block. I waved at the driver who saw me. I went back in and got my coat.

"You go to work," Cathy said. "You do your thing. Let that story about those cute orphanage kids and the sexy music volunteer distract you."

"Wait, what?" I said to Cathy. "What sexy music volunteer?"

"Bye!" she said mischievously and hung up. I was left looking at my phone in confusion as I stepped onto the street, the door of Charles' car already being held open for me by his driver.

Cathy was right, I thought as I greeted the driver and slid appreciatively into the leather seats. I should focus on work. I had a follow-up story to write.