I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling, snippets of conversation luring me in and out of sleep. Conflicting emotions pull at my energy, draining my reserves. I’m tired, disappointed, aroused…

I can’t be sure when I finally allow my brain to shut down for the night.

The next thing I know, Holden’s voice is reverberating in my ears, his sensual whispers drawing out a low moan from the base of my throat.

He’s here. He’s with me now.

Blindly, I grip the sheets in my fists, and tilt my pelvis upward, as if to meet some part of him.

“That’s it,” he says, scraping his teeth across my shoulder blade. Every nerve in my body snaps to attention. “Tell me what you want.”

My breath hitches. “I want you.”

In the darkness, Holden’s touch becomes amplified. His deft finger trails down my inner thigh, and circles my knee before inching its way up toward my pussy. I’m wet, aching for his touch. He whispers again, his breath feathering across my ear. “Does this feel good, baby?”

My response is a strangled whimper of yearning.

Sweet Jesus, yes.

His mouth trails along the curve of my neck, along the slope of my jaw. He nibbles on my bottom lip, before plunging his tongue inside my mouth in tentative exploration. With his free hand, Holden grabs behind my head, and tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck. Our mouths, lips, tongues fuse together in a long kiss that almost makes me forget what’s happening between my legs.

Almost.

Holden flicks my clit with his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a sharp gasp. He pinches the tiny erect nub, rolling it back and forth while I writhe beneath his hand. His body shifts to pin me to the mattress. My feet tangle in the sheets, wrapping around my ankles and calves. I am stuck, unable to move—and I have never felt anything more erotic in my life.

“Tell me to fuck you with my finger,” he says.

My voice goes hoarse. “Fuck me with—”

Before I can even finish the command, he inserts a finger inside and pushes deep within my pussy while his thumb presses against my throbbing clitoris. “Deeper?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

He delves further inside, and I buck my hips to allow him better access. Goosebumps ripple across my flesh. His mouth clamps around one of my breasts, and his tongue flicks fast against my hard nipple. Desperation floods my veins like adrenaline—I want, need, him to consume me.

The steady rhythm of his fingers in and out of my soaked pussy is enough to bring me to orgasm. I can’t. Not yet. I focus, willing myself to draw out this pleasure for as long as possible.

Emotion clogs up at the back of my throat. “Don’t stop. Please…don’t…”

“That’s right, baby. I love to hear you beg.”

I push the back of my head against the pillow, and arch toward his sensuous mouth, his expert hand. My breath comes out in a steady pant as the climax continues to build. It’s been so long since a man has touched me—I don’t know how long I can hold it off.

As if sensing my struggle, Holden abruptly withdraws his fingers from inside me, and shifts so that his body hovers over mine, erect cock solid against my inner thigh.

“Tell me what you want now,” he commands, his voice a low growl of authority. “Do you want me to fuck you?’

I nod, unable to speak.

He locks his gaze on mine. “Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” I whisper.

He positions his cock at the entrance of my pussy and slides it along my slit, undulating his hips like waves. “Say it again. Louder.”

“Fuck me.”

“Again.”

I blow out a juddering breath, and gather my vocals. “Fuck me, Holden. Fuck me hard.”

And then he’s plunging his cock inside my pussy. He doesn’t just fill me—in this moment, he possesses my entire body, and I know I will do anything, say anything, to please him.

He begins to rock his hips, guiding himself in and out. With each rhythmic movement, my clit throbs with mounting intensity. I clutch his back and scrape my nails against his flesh. He calls out my name, commanding me to dig deeper, to hold on tighter.

The intensity is my undoing.

I hang on to his hips, squeezing hard as pleasure rolls like waves from somewhere deep in my core, and finally, blissfully, releases with a deafening scream. It isn’t until my voice goes hoarse that I realize the sound is from my own mouth.

When at last the climax comes to a pulsating end, Holden slumps against me, his heavy breaths hot against my skin. Sweat glistens his brow. His eyes are glassed with desire. “I told you,” he says, a little breathless.

My fingertips trail along his rib cage, grazing his taut skin. “Told me what?”

“That you wouldn’t be able to forget me—or my proposal.”

And that’s when I wake up.

My eyes open in horror and a cool breezes flutters across my body. As my vision adjusts to my surroundings, I begin to reorient myself. Dear Lord. I am not in Holden’s strong arms, but in my own bed—alone.

Jesus.

The sex with Holden was just a dream, but is it possible my orgasm wasn’t?

I bury my head in my pillow. Shit. Was I loud? Damn it. I hope I wasn’t loud.

My gaze goes to the alarm clock, where the glowing red numbers tell me it’s 1:30 a.m. I groan, and pull the pillow over my head, trying to dislodge the lingering fantasy of Holden’s naked body on top of mine. But it’s all so visceral, so real—I can almost smell his cinnamon spiced cologne.

Damn it.

I want him. Now worse than ever.

The realization hits me with the force of a tornado, and the butterflies in my gut awaken with a vengeance. My resolve snaps. Still half asleep, I grab my phone and call up my emails. There’s no way he’ll answer, but if I don’t send him a message now, I’ll chicken out.

Taking a deep breath, I write: 10 questions. 10 hours. 10 sexual acts of your choosing. I accept.

Then I sign it with my cell number, and chuck my phone to the other side of the bed.

Fuck me. What have I done?