~
Face to face with the bear, Goldilocks had never seen so fierce a creature. His hungry eyes, his snapping teeth, his dark pelt…
~
Somehow Thea did fall asleep. And she dreamed of him.
She dreamed of that hot body over hers, skin to skin. Pushing and pulling. His hands. His mouth. The delicious weight of him driving into her, taking her so close. Right to the brink of shattering.
She opened her eyes to the fire-cast room with a ragged gasp, her body shaking and panting, just shy of orgasm. She released a mewling whimper, her frustration acute. She’d been close. Closer than she ever came with Eric or Charlie, and this had been a mere dream.
She dragged a hand over her face, her skin feverish to the touch. God, she was pathetic. A woman with two long-term relationships under her belt should have more experience with orgasms.
She was curled on her side on the couch, her shirt—or rather his shirt—hiked up around her thighs. Her hand pressed between her legs, her fingers buried in her heat. She was throbbing there, her sex aching. In her sleep, she’d sought to relieve that ache. The base of her palm pushed right against her bare sex, grinding into her clit as she drove her fingers into her clenching channel.
She wrenched her hand away with a soft gasp and buried the treacherous thing under her pillow as though needing to restrain herself.
Immediately she began to rationalize her behavior. Dreaming about him wasn’t so unusual. He’d been on her mind before falling asleep, and didn’t people usually dream about things that weighed heavily on their minds? She’d been obsessing over him, and why wouldn’t she be? She was trapped in a house with him. It was only natural.
Except the nature of her dream wasn’t exactly natural. Masturbation wasn’t normal. Not for her.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an arousing dream. Maybe never. Of course it had been ages since she last had sex. Even months before Charlie broke off their engagement. It hadn’t really bothered her because the sex had never been noteworthy. She’d actually convinced herself sex wasn’t all that important in a relationship—or in life.
She wished she knew what time it was. Then she would know how long she had to wait until morning.
“Come here.”
The deep voice sent a wave of gooseflesh over her. Still, she doubted her ears. Why was he awake? And why would he be speaking to her?
“I said: come here.”
Okay, there was no denying it that time. He was definitely talking to her.
She lifted her head and looked toward his bed.
He was sitting up, his upper body propped against the headboard of the bed. He looked relaxed and casual, and yet there was something restrained about him that made her body tingle. An animal magnetism. Like a creature of the jungle, watching its prey and biding its time.
Maybe it was that body of his. It was born of labor and sweat. Muscled and ridged and lean as any warrior’s. It was like he walked right off the screen of Braveheart. He only needed the requisite war paint.
“You want me to come over there?” Still requiring confirmation, she pointed at the bed.
He nodded. Just once. Hard and curt, his expression void of emotion.
She swung her legs over the couch and walked toward his bed with hesitant steps, stopping near the edge, a careful distance from him.
“You’re awake,” he announced, his deep voice an accusing growl.
“So are you,” she countered.
His blue eyes glinted in the dim light cast from the fire. “You were making some verra interesting sounds in yer sleep.”
God, that voice. It was too hot. He was too hot.
Heat fired her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“That’s what you’ve done though.” He paused a beat and she wondered if this was where she should apologize again. “From the moment you invaded my house, you’ve disturbed me.”
“Was I talking in my sleep? I do that sometimes.”
“No. I wouldn’t call it talking, but you were making sounds.”
Her pulse skittered beneath her skin. She was afraid she knew what kind of sounds she’d made. Her body still hummed with need, so she had a fairly good idea.
“I’ll try not to disturb you anymore.”
He stared hard at her, unmoving. Silent and taciturn.
She started to turn around, figuring he was done with her.
“Come here.”
She figured wrong.
Now this was the point when she should ignore him. She should keep going. Return to the couch and slip beneath her blanket. That would be the safe and logical thing to do. That would be what middle school art teacher Thea Hoover from Phoenix would do—a woman who only ever chose safe men.
Men who didn’t work out. Who never worked out. Who ended up being all wrong.
Even though he was commanding her to come closer, he wouldn’t stop her if she turned around and went back to the couch. She sensed that about him. He wasn’t some sadist out to hurt her. He was your everyday run-of-the-mill sheep farmer hermit.
Who wanted her to come closer.
Holy hell.
Moistening her lips, she walked forward on legs that felt as steady as Jell-O. She stopped when her knees brushed the mattress.
He sat forward. The covers pooled around his waist. He gripped the hem of her shirt where it hung to her knees.
“Those sounds you were making…” His eyes fastened on her face as he spoke. “You sounded like a woman getting fucked.”
His outrageous words ran through her like a bolt of lightning, straight to her aching core. “Oh.” The single word escaped her, small and useless.
“But how can that be?” His voice was soft and dangerous. She felt it. It moved through her like a curl of heat. He angled his dark head, those vivid eyes of his intent on her face. “You’re all alone over there on my couch.”
She nodded wildly in agreement, on the verge of saying it was impossible.
But then his hand was under her shirt.
Oh. God. He was touching her. His fingertips grazed the tops of her thighs. She felt like her legs might give out.
“Were you touching yourself over there?” his deep voice husked. “Fucking yourself with your wee hand?”
She was standing with her legs slightly parted. There was just enough room for his hand to find its way between her legs, but even so she adjusted her feet involuntarily, parting her legs wider, granting him access to her throbbing center.
His breathing hitched. “Let’s see then.”
She wasn’t wearing any panties. With no barrier, his fingers slid against her folds. She cried out at the first touch of his fingers on her aching flesh.
His pupils looked darker, larger. “Oh, you’re soaking wet,” he growled, his fingers brushing over her clit.
This couldn’t be real. She was still dreaming.
“Is this for me?” His finger moved on, dipping to her opening.
She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out.
“Answer me,” he commanded.
She swallowed back a sob and nodded, broken and bared before him and not caring. “Y-yes.”
His thumb moved up, brushing her swollen clit and she shuddered, her hand dropping to the edge of the bed for support. Her head bowed and her hair fell in a tangled curtain, hiding her face. She was grateful for that. Grateful he could not see her eyes rolling back in her head.
“I could hear you from here. All those little moans.” He pushed up with his thumb, pressing just a fraction inside her, but it was enough. Enough to make her gasp. Enough to push her right to the brink of orgasm. “I could smell your pussy from across the room. So wet and cock-hungry.”
She swallowed back a cry at his filthy words. No one had ever said such dirty things to her. It should horrify her. She should stumble away and slap his face like a good little girl who grew up on casseroles and Sunday church.
Instead, she shook. She was so close.
“You’re right there and I’ve barely done anything to you.”
He was wrong. He’d done far more than any man had when it came to getting her off.
Gripping the edge of the bed with both hands now, she closed her eyes and bore down harder on that thumb, riding it and seeking more pressure.
Then, all at once, his hand was gone.
What the hell? She almost fell forward, but her hands on the mattress saved her. She bit back a cry of frustration at the sudden loss and lifted her eyes to him.
His expression had gone dark and feral, and she marveled she had done that to him.
He brought his thumb to his mouth and tasted her. His eyes drifted shut as though savoring her. As though she was something sweet and delicious. Her stomach dipped. Oh. God. Charlie would never have done that. He would have thought it disgusting. He wasn’t a proponent of cunnilingus in any degree, and he had convinced her she wasn’t either.
Clearly she had been lying to herself.
He slid his thumb out of his mouth and leaned forward, bracing his arms on the bed between them, his biceps strained and flexing. “You have two choices.”
Her stomach muscles fluttered. She watched him raptly, mesmerized by his face, his beautiful lips as they formed those words in a voice that was the embodiment of sex.
Without tearing his eyes from her, he nodded toward the couch. “You either turn around and go back to that couch and stop touching yourself and making those little come-and-fuck-me sounds.”
Everything inside her sank and deflated like a dying balloon at that option. She didn’t want to do that.
“Or…” His eyes were blue fire. Heavy-lidded and intense. He leaned forward like he might lunge off the bed at any moment. “You join me on this bed ready to fuck.”
A heavy breath pushed out of her lungs. Well, that left no room for vagueness.
He was out of the bed. With two strides he was in front of her. Tall and broad, a veritable wall. An impressive erection tented the front of his briefs, proof of his desire.
He followed her gaze to his cock and then looked up at her.
She opened her mouth and stammered, “I-I…”
“Make a decision. Go run to yer couch or get in my bed. No misunderstandings. No games.” His hot gaze crawled over her face, reading God knew what in her expression.
You can do this, Thea. You owe it to yourself. You can have a fling. Take what you want for once in your life with no guilty voice saying you can’t.
He reached for her and threaded his fingers through her unruly hair. “What’s it gonna be, Goldilocks? You gonna take what you want?”
It wasn’t arrogance. Okay, he was arrogant, but it was the truth. She did want this. She wanted him. And he knew it.
She released a shaky breath and nodded jerkily.
In that moment she felt everything crumble away like bits of sediment from a cliff. Her grandmother giving her all kinds antiquated misogynistic advice. Boyfriends who only made her feel bad about herself.
They vanished. They were gone. Things of the past.
There was only now. This. Him. Her.
His big hand flexed in her hair. “Say it. Say the words.”
She swallowed and stopped nodding. That was fair. Consent was important. He deserved to hear it from her before they went any further. More than that. He needed to hear it. And she needed to say it.
“Yes. I want to join you in the bed.” There. That sounded nice. Polite.
“No,” he bit out, his gaze hard and demanding. “Say you want to fuck. Because that’s what this will be.”
Her belly fluttered. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I want to fuck you.”
He plucked her off her feet. A small yelp escaped her as she flew through the air and landed in the center of his bed. She barely stopped bouncing before he was there, the great lean and muscled length of him over her, one knee sliding unerringly between her thighs, his slight leg hair tickling her skin.
Her pulse hammered wildly at her throat as she looked up at him. She knew her eyes must be enormous in her face. She couldn’t even manage a blink.
His hand gripped the neckline of her flannel shirt and paused. His blue eyes looked silvery blue in the firelight as he gazed down at her. “No going back now, Goldilocks. You’re mine.” That said, he yanked down on her shirt. Buttons popped and flew loose, flying in every direction. She guessed he didn’t care about ruining his shirt.
Air flowed over her bare body, but she wasn’t cold. Not with his scorching gaze sweeping over her. She felt on fire.
She tried not to fidget beneath his scrutiny, but old insecurities reverberated through her. She hated they were here, intruding now.
Too heavy. Too big. Too plump. Lay off the Dr Pepper, Thea.
She had never been this exposed. The firelight revealed everything, and she longed for darkness. She’d spent junior high and high school flattening her breasts with sports bras, but that had done nothing to stop them from reaching melon-size proportions.
She brought both her hands up to cover herself, but he snatched hold of her wrists and pinned them above her head. “Don’t.”
His gaze fixed on her breasts. She tried not to squirm under his scrutiny.
“This is what you were hiding under my shirt?” He tsked as he released one of her wrists. She hissed and arched as one of his big hands palmed her breast. “Such pretty tits need to be worshipped.”
His touch grew firmer, almost rough as he handled her—and she relished it.
She arched her spine, crying out and thrusting her chest out for more. He fondled the heavy globe, pinching her nipple between thumb and forefinger. His other hand followed suit.
He squeezed and massaged both mounds, lifting them and pushing them together while tweaking the tips. “Beautiful,” he growled.
She writhed wildly and cried out, bearing down and riding his thigh, desperate for the pressure on her throbbing sex.
Her breasts had never been lavished such attention. She felt owned. That was the only word for it. Marked and possessed by a man who knew how to manipulate her body.
He added his second knee between her open thighs and forced her legs wide. He still wore his briefs but she felt him, pole-hard, prodding into her bare sex. He started to grind against her and that was amazing. She was ready to fly apart, and he hadn’t even penetrated her.
He bent his head and sucked a nipple deep into the cavern of his mouth. He used his tongue and teeth, and just like that she came in a violent burst, shuddering beneath him.
She buried her fingers in his hair and held him close to her breast, content to keep him there forever as she ground his fully erect cock into her pussy.
“That’s all it takes to get you off?” he growled around one distended nipple, scoring it with his teeth. “Och, you’re going to be a hot fuck.”
“That’s never happened before,” she gasped, still trembling in the aftershocks of her release. For some reason, she wanted him to know that. To know that his hands and mouth and cock were the first to make her shoot off like a rocket before they even had sex.
He resumed sucking her breasts, squeezing and holding them for his feasting mouth, growling with appreciation as she resumed rubbing against his cock, trying to find the perfect angle. “Too…much,” she moaned, her head lolling on the bed.
“We haven’t even started. I could spend hours on these tits.”
He was a miracle. A sex god. She’d already climaxed, but he had her right there at the edge again. She felt like she was on the brink of death.
Her hands dropped between them, diving under the waistband of his briefs to take him in both hands, and she realized she would need both hands.
“There you go,” he grunted in approval. “Take my cock out.”
He was big. Bigger than anything she ever had inside her. She stroked him in awe, touching the fat crown of him. She traced the slit, rubbing in the pre-cum that leaked out. The head of him swelled and grew tighter under her fingers.
“Stop.” He grabbed her wrist. His blue eyes locked on hers. “I need a condom. When I come, it’s going to be inside you.” He lifted his head and looked around a bit wildly, as though trying to place where he’d stashed his condoms.
He started to pull away and she locked her thighs around his waist, loath to let him go from her for even a second. She needed him inside her now. More than she’d ever needed anything on this earth she needed to feel this man’s cock buried deep inside her. “I’m on birth control.”
He paused and looked down at her.
She took advantage of his hesitation and brought the head of him to her opening, gliding the bare tip of him over her wetness. “I have an IUD.”
She’d gotten it a year ago when she got tired of remembering to take the pill every night. She’d been considering going back to the doctor to have it removed. It seemed unnecessary since her sex life was nil.
She read the hesitation in his eyes and guided the crown of him inside her, just a fraction. She wasn’t above manipulating him.
She knew he’d relented when he propped his elbows on either side of her head and framed his hands along either side of her face. “What’s your name again, Goldilocks?”
That gave her a start. She was about to have sex with a man and they didn’t know each other’s names?
It should shame her, but nothing about this moment felt wrong. She was on fire.
“Thea,” she breathed.
“Niall,” he returned. Tension rippled over his jaw and then he let go. Shoved inside her with one slick thrust, filling her completely, stretching her deliciously.
She wiggled under him with a sob, her hands pushing his corded shoulders as if needing sudden leverage. “Oh, you’re big!”
“You can take it,” Niall’s lips husked against her neck and then bit down on her earlobe, sending a rush of moisture between her legs. “Och, you just got really wet.” He thrust again. Harder. “You feel amazing.” Another thrust. “Like you were made for my cock.”
She cried out at the fullness of him sliding in and out of her, but he was right … the friction shot sparks through her and she lifted her hips for him, greedy for more.
His mouth claimed hers, swallowing her cries. He kissed her senseless, his tongue sweeping against hers, arousing her on a whole new level and sending another rush of moisture to her sex where his giant erection pulsed.
“How are you this tight?” He groaned and pulled back to thrust even deeper inside her again, shoving her higher on the bed.
A small scream escaped her. Her nails dug into her shoulders, hanging on for dear life. She’d never been fucked so hard and it was incredible. She didn’t know it could be like this. She didn’t know she could want it like this.
“That’s right. Scream for me, Thea.”
Her body was out of her control. Shaking and wild. He drove into her again and she came in a violent burst. She cried his name and went limp, quivering in the aftershocks. Tears sprang to her eyes from the wonder of it. He’d given her the best orgasm of her life.
He didn’t stop though.
He continued riding her, pumping relentlessly. His hands dug into her hips, lifting her for his plunging cock. “Again, Thea,” he demanded.
“No. Can’t,” she gasped, shaking her head. There was no way. It was too much. He could not possibly wring another orgasm from her.
“You can.” He was unrelenting, fucking her ruthlessly. His thrusts fell faster, harder, pushing her again to the edge of climax.
She clutched his shoulders, his back. Her hands moved down and gripped his taut ass, reveling in how it flexed as he pumped over her.
He launched her over that edge again. Tears streaming down her face, she shrieked and he lost all restraint. He became a thrusting animal, savage and intense as he plowed into her body, taking it and claiming it and using it for his desire. As she had used his. She’d never felt so desired. So innately female. So powerful.
A few more lunges and he stilled, throwing back his head with a groan as he came inside her, spilling his seed deep.
She couldn’t slow her breathing. Her breasts rose and fell in heavy gasps. He lowered his gaze back down to her and she knew she looked shell-shocked. Because that was how she felt.
She fought to regain her breath. “That … was …”
He nodded, looking so grim right then that she didn’t know what to make of him.
He was still lodged deep inside her and that only added to the sudden awkwardness. What did one say immediately following sex with a stranger? Should she thank him? At this point Charlie would go brush his teeth and get ready for bed.
He eased out from her body and collapsed on his back beside her, throwing one arm over his forehead. His breathing was still labored and that made her feel better. Maybe he felt shattered too. Maybe he needed some time to compose himself.
Several moments passed, however, as she lay there staring at the dancing shadows on the ceiling, and she was sure she needed to get up. She reached for his shirt, determined to slip it back on even if she had to hold it shut since the buttons were gone, scattered God knew where.
“Where are you going?”
She stopped and looked down at him, clutching the shirt in front of her to shield her nakedness. “Going back to the couch?” Why did that have to come out like a question?
He sat up and tugged his shirt from her hands, tossing it aside. “We had an understanding.”
“Yeah. And we…fucked. So…” She gestured lamely to the couch.
“There’s a lot I still want to do with you.”
“We’re not … we’re still…” Her voice faded.
“I’ll need you again. Soon,” he said. “Unless you’re too sore?” His expression turned almost sulky at that prospect.
She shook her head dumbly. “No. I’m fine.” He could go again? More than once in a night?
“Good,” he said, his eyes dropping to her body. “Because I’m not close to done with you.” His voice dropped even lower. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there is a bit of magic in those glens, after all.” His hand trailed between the hollow of her breasts. “Are you even real?” His hand circled round to palm a heavy breast, thumbing the nipple until it strained for more of his touch. “Maybe you’re a faerie come to bewitch me, aye?”
Her only response was a whimper as his thumb rolled her nipple.
Then his hand was gone.
She looked around desperately as he climbed out of bed. But then he was back. He wrapped an arm around her waist, lifted her easily from the bed, carrying her into the bathroom. Her head twisted and turned, unsure what he was about until she heard the loud hiss of the shower water.
He deposited her inside the tub. Warm water sluiced down her, plastering her hair to her face. Gasping, she pushed the strands out of the way, slicking the long hair back.
He followed her inside, pulling the curtain shut on them and sealing them in.
She admired him. The water hit him and he angled his neck and head to better wet his hair, turning the dark brown strands black. He looked so at ease, as though showering with a woman was the most natural thing in the world for him. Had she ever known so confident a man? Certainly she had never been with one. He was grumpy, to be sure. And bossy. But Lord was he sexy.
His body towered over her, crowding her in the small space. She stared up at him uncertainly.
He stared back down, eyes narrowing, considering her. “You never took a shower with a man before.” A statement, not a question.
She shook her head. She might have two lovers to her credit, but there was a lot she hadn’t done. A lot she didn’t know. “Am I so transparent?”
Why did she get the impression he could read her mind? Her throat constricted and she looked away. That would be embarrassing if he could. Then he would know exactly how into him she was, how much power he had over her already.
“Look at me.”
She returned her gaze to him. The water beat at her back and ran down her legs. Still watching her, he grabbed a bar of soap and built up a lather with his hands.
Putting the soap aside, he set his soapy hands to her body, washing and massaging her so thoroughly she couldn’t help from moaning. It was incredible.
He started at her shoulders and then worked his way down. He spent a lot of time on her breasts, his fingers sliding over the slippery skin, rolling and squeezing her nipples while murmuring, “Such pretty tits.”
He let go and stepped closer, his chest flattening against her breasts as his hands worked their way down the slope of her back to massage the rounds of her ass and lift her higher so his erection poked her in the stomach. “And this ass.”
She arched her face up into the spray of water, sharp whimpers escaping her.
Nothing had ever felt this good.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded.
His fingers slipped down the cleft of her ass. He pushed his cock against her backside, sliding it against the cleft of her cheeks, teasing her with long and deep strokes. Then his fingers were back, skimming lower until he found the entrance to her sex. He brushed there before his soapy fingers drifted to softly circle her oversensitive clit and give it a roll.
A hiss escaped her.
Then his hands vanished from between her legs. She cried out in disappointment. He dropped to his knees in front of her. Her head spun, dizzy with desire and bewilderment at his actions. He lifted one of her legs and draped it over his shoulder. Then his mouth was on her. He devoured her. Licking with his hot tongue, nibbling with his teeth, his beard rasping her most sensitive skin. Oh. My. God.
She screeched, one hand gripping his hair while the other one braced along the shower wall. “Niall … you can’t…”
He stopped and looked up at her with hard, glittering eyes. “I’m eating this pussy.”
She stared down at him, words she could not bring herself to say on the tip of her tongue. Men didn’t like to do this. It was dirty.
She licked her lips. “I’ve never…” Her voice faded as a supremely satisfied look came over his face. Damn it. She just revealed her inexperience.
“Then it’s long overdue. Tonight this pussy is mine and my mouth is going to taste all of it.”
Shock ripped through her at his words. Then his head was back between her thighs, pushing them wide. He worked her furiously, tasting her like he had promised. Licking long and deep everywhere.
Soon she didn’t care. She lost all restraint and rocked against that mouth of his. Lost all ability to speak as she rode his face, driving and seeking her own pleasure. There were only cries and whimpers and pleas as he consumed her with his mouth.
“Fucking come for me,” he growled against her sex, his tongue flaying her clit. She trembled, shaking against his mouth.
“I can’t.” She tossed her head side to side, and then he did the unthinkable. He sucked her clit between his teeth, pulling deep as he pressed one finger slightly against that other hole … another first. She screamed and came in a blinding rush.
She gazed wide-eyed at him. Who even was she anymore?
He stood and backed her against the wall, his hands flat on the shower tile, caging her in. Only, he felt more like the wild animal with his huge body pinning hers and his feral gaze dancing all over her face.
“Kiss me,” he ordered in that growly brogue. “Taste yourself.” And she did, ripe and tangy. She tasted her own need on his lips and tongue.
He gripped her waist and lifted her as though she weighed nothing at all, guiding her legs around him. He pushed inside her, seating himself to the hilt. His lips moved against her drenched hair. “You’re so tight. Sure you’re not too sore from that last fuck?”
She shouldn’t love dirty talk like this, but her stomach dipped and twisted at his words. He woke something inside her. A primal earthiness that demanded release. He made her feel like a goddess. Like the last woman on earth.
“I’m fine.” Contrary to her denials, she was a little sore and swollen and he actually felt bigger inside her than the last time, but somehow that made it better, the feeling more intense. Who cared if she couldn’t walk tomorrow?
He fucked her into the shower wall, his thrusts long and heavy, grinding deep inside her so he hit that hidden spot, the thick crown of him rubbing where no one had touched before. She cried out, the pleasure white hot and blinding, dancing the fine line of pain.
“Niall!” She lifted higher, away from his cock. Again, it was too much. The sensations overwhelming. She didn’t know how to take it.
He grabbed her hips and forced her down, seating her on him. His hard gaze pinned her. “Milk my cock. Come for me, sweetheart.”
“Not again—”
“Again,” he commanded, his own movements losing rhythm as he grew frantic, his strokes rough and without restraint against her.
She surrendered, sinking onto his member, her inner muscles squeezing like a fist around him, milking him as he commanded.
With a guttural cry, he came, shooting off inside her.
Her thighs clenched around him as her orgasm followed fast and brutal. She flew apart, sharp cries exploding from her lips. Her vision went black for a moment as she hugged him tightly, dragging her nails down his back.
He pulled back and stared at her. For the first time she saw a crack in his stoic mask. The same astonishment she felt was there, peeking out from the fissures.
He turned away, shutting off the water and lifting her out of the shower. He dried her off like she was helpless. Honestly, she was still shaking and probably couldn’t have lifted her arms. She wasn’t too certain she could manage it.
Once they were both dry, he carried her back to his bed and placed her in the center. She was glad for that. Glad he had answered the question of whether they were done yet and where she would sleep for the night.
He slid in next to her, pulling the covers over them. She gazed at his beautiful face, the lines and hollows all the more stark in firelight. The dark glitter of his blue eyes brought emotions she dared not examine swimming to the surface. This was a fling. That was all it was. That was enough.
Smiling, she reached out and stroked his mouth, tracing those lips she longed to paint. His beard tickled her palm.
He caught her palm and pressed a slow kiss to it. “Promise me you’ll be here in the morning,” he growled against her skin.
She chuckled. “And where would I go?”
He frowned, his eyes deep and grim. “If yer no’ real, you could disappear.”
She wasn’t so sure, but she thought he might be a touch serious. “I’m real. I won’t disappear,” she promised. A yawn escaped her.
“Sleep,” he ordered.
“Always so bossy.” But she closed her eyes and fell asleep anyway.