Free For Kicks by Jenna Bayley-Burke

after.
    “Please, take me. Please.” Her breathy voice was rich with need, equalizing the hurt he’d felt at her constant rejection.
    But he wasn’t ready to give in, not yet. Every spare second since he’d met her was filled with plans for this moment, when he finally had her panting beneath him, begging for more.
    His mouth closed over one nipple, his tongue flickering fast against the nub. His fingers found the other, playing her like a finely tuned instrument. Her low moans set his tempo, and just when he guessed she was nearing crescendo, he released her, his hands and lips moving upwards to grip her face and seal their mouths in an orgasm-inducing kiss.
    But her hands had a mind of their own, diving into the opening in his boxers and twining her fingers around his diamond-hard cock. Her hands slid against his hardness, slick and fast. His mind whirred, wondering when and what she’d found to lubricate her hands. Surely it couldn’t be her own wetness, could it?
    That thought, and her tight, quickening pace had him careening over the point of no return. “You want me.” Her whisper taunted in his ear, followed by a wicked laugh.
    He sat up with a jolt, staring about the empty room. The biting chill of the air conditioner cut into his damp flesh. His heart raced as his gaze darted from corner to corner, finding nothing but the blankets he must have kicked off himself in his fevered fantasy.
    Running his hands through his mussed hair, he chuckled softly. The digital alarm clock on the bedside table glared four thirty. Not even Breeze got up this damned early.
    He swung his legs over the side of the bed and found the plush carpet. He continued to shake his head and laugh at himself as he cleaned up in the bathroom, the haggard eyes in the mirror unfamiliar and more than a little pathetic. Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone?
    Pre-dawn light filtered through the windows as he crossed the suite, twisting the doorknob on Breeze’s bedroom door in silence. She lay peacefully curled up on her side, the pink ribbon of her nightgown decorating her bare shoulder. It really had been a dream.
    Closing the door quietly, he shook his head and smiled at his hopeful mind. If she’d been naked, he might have thought their interlude had been real.
     
    On her tiptoes, Breeze crept from her bedroom to the kitchenette. The sky beyond the bank of windows glowed a sunrise pink. Not unlike the chemise she’d slept in.
    Accustomed to a freshly laundered nightshirt every time she lay down, she’d been struggling with sleeping in the same one each night. The sleeping attire Anthony, or more likely Lonnie, deemed appropriate was more feminine and revealing than she was comfortable with. But clean had been too much of a temptation to resist.
    Opening the cupboard, she found a teakettle and filled it. After setting it on the stove and cranking up the heat, she searched until she found tea bags and a mug. Then she leaned on the counter and waited for the clatter of tiny bubbles simmering inside. She didn’t dare let the kettle whistle and risk waking up Logan.
    Had he been dreaming of her? The dream guide she’d finished reading before falling asleep said shared dreams could predict the future.
    Gave a whole new meaning to the phrase “in your dreams”.
    Last night’s dreams made no sense, especially with the ridiculous interpretations in the guide. In one she’d been on a rooftop, the only way down through a chimney. Only in dreams could she have found herself at the bottom, in the middle of one of her training classes.
    The dream that woke her could have been a memory. She and her mother, tending the large vegetable garden behind her parents’ house. It had felt so real she’d smelled the coming rain, though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Butterflies of every size and color flitted about as they collected vegetables in baskets. She held out a finger and one landed, its wings moving with exquisite stillness.
    “Look,