The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a candle flickering in the corner, casting long shadows against the walls. The air was thick with a blend of red wine and musk, the scent of something both intoxicating and forbidden. A man sat in an armchair, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his wine glass before he lifted it to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip. His dark eyes, intense and unreadable, settled on the woman across the room.
She was seated on the plush leather couch, one leg crossed over the other, her dress riding up just enough to expose the smooth skin of her thigh. The silk fabric clung to her curves, her chest rising and falling in anticipation. Her lips were slightly parted, her gaze fixed on him with a knowing glint.
With measured precision, he placed the wine glass onto the table, the quiet clink echoing through the silence. Then, with the grace of a predator closing in on its prey, he rose from his chair and crossed the space between them. His footsteps were slow, controlled, each one deepening the tension that already hung thick in the air.
When he reached her, he stood over her for a moment, drinking in the sight of her—her flushed cheeks, her soft breaths, the way her chest slightly heaved as she waited for him to make his move. And then, finally, he did.
His fingers, warm and teasing, glided over her thigh, tracing slow, languid circles against her skin before traveling upward. She gasped softly at his touch, the delicate anticipation making her stomach tighten. His hand found its way to her waist, then her stomach, his palm pressing lightly against her as though memorizing the shape of her body.
She shivered when his fingers brushed over the curve of her breast, his touch light yet possessive. Her skin felt as if it were burning beneath his fingertips, a slow fire spreading with every movement. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.
"You tremble for me," he murmured, his voice dark and husky.
A soft moan escaped her lips as his hand traveled further, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Her grip tightened on his bicep, nails lightly digging into the fabric of his shirt. He smirked against her neck, his lips pressing against her pulse before trailing downward.
"Oh, I love it when you cry out for me," he whispered, his voice thick with desire.
He leaned in, his lips pressing against the tender skin of her throat, leaving a slow, deliberate trail of kisses. She tilted her head back, granting him full access, her body surrendering to his touch. He sucked gently at her neck, leaving a small mark—a reminder that she was his.
His mouth continued its descent, grazing her collarbone before moving further down. He reached the fabric of her dress and, without hesitation, pulled the thin strap off her shoulder. His fingers traced the lace of her bra before slipping beneath it, cupping her breast with a firm yet gentle grasp.
Her breath hitched when he took her nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he felt her shudder beneath him, the sound sending shivers through her.
"Oh, Elena, I've missed you," he breathed against her skin, his voice raw with longing.
His words sent a thrill through her, a delicious heat pooling between her legs. She arched into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as he continued his ministrations. The air between them crackled with unspoken need, their bodies already knowing the rhythm of the dance they were about to share.
He laid her back against the couch, his body pressing against hers. Her legs instinctively parted, welcoming him as he settled between them. He reached down, his fingers teasing at the fabric of her panties, ready to remove the final barrier between them. She gasped, her body trembling with anticipation as he positioned himself against her entrance—
Then, suddenly—
"Good morning, sunshine. You've been tossing all night."
Elena's eyes snapped open. Her breath came in shallow pants, her body still humming from the intensity of the dream. She blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the golden light filtering through the curtains.
A warm hand brushed over her forehead before placing a gentle kiss there. She turned her head, her vision still hazy, and found herself staring into familiar eyes.
Nathan.
He stood beside the bed, shirtless, his lean muscles bathed in the morning glow. His dark hair was slightly tousled, his lips curved into a soft, knowing smile.
"You were making sounds in your sleep," he mused, his tone laced with amusement.
Elena sat up abruptly, her heart still racing. Her body ached with a need that had been so vividly real only moments ago. She felt damp between her thighs, her nipples hard beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown. She swallowed, her mind struggling to differentiate between reality and the lingering ghost of her dream.
"None of that happened?" she murmured, half disbelieving.
Nathan chuckled, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Depends on what that was."
She hesitated, unsure if she should confess the vivid, erotic dream that had taken over her subconscious. The way he had touched her, kissed her, made her moan his name—
Her cheeks burned as she averted her gaze.
"Just… a dream," she mumbled.
Nathan hummed, his lips twitching into a smirk. "A dream, huh?" His fingers traced absent patterns over her arm. "Must've been a good one."
Elena swallowed hard. She could still feel it—his touch, his warmth, his breath against her skin. It had been so real, so visceral, that even now, in the morning light, her body still craved him.
Nathan's gaze flickered down, noticing the way her thighs pressed together, the way her chest still rose and fell unevenly. His smirk deepened.
"Care to share?" he teased, leaning in closer.
She huffed, lightly shoving his chest. "Not a chance."
He laughed, his deep, rich sound filling the room as he stood and walked toward the window. He pulled the curtains open fully, letting in the golden light of dawn.
Elena exhaled, running a hand through her hair. It had just been a dream. A ridiculously hot dream, but a dream nonetheless.
Then, reality sank in.
It was Monday morning.
"Shit," she groaned, throwing the covers off and rubbing her temples.
Nathan, now pulling on his dress shirt, glanced at her with amusement. "Rough night, huh?"
"You have no idea," she muttered, sliding out of bed.
She padded toward the bathroom, still trying to shake off the aftereffects of the dream as she turned on the shower. The cool tiles against her bare feet helped ground her, but her body still felt warm, tingling with the memory of hands that had never actually touched her.
By the time she stepped out, Nathan was already dressed, adjusting his tie in the mirror. He turned when he saw her, stepping closer to press a lingering kiss to her lips.
"Have a good day, love," he murmured against her mouth before pulling away.
"Yes, you too baby". She sighed, watching as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.
She would get ready soon.
But as she stood there, still wrapped in her towel, Elena couldn't help but wonder—
Why did it feel like more than just a dream?