by J. Haymore
God, even now, even with this weird shit going on, my cock was as hard as steel remembering it.
She stared at me in shock. “You were there,” she murmured.
“Dammit, Lacey. This is just too weird.”
Crawling to her knees, she faced me, her eyes big and round. “There was a fourth dream. I just remembered it. You came to me again last night, after we fell asleep.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. All of a sudden, I remembered that dream as well. Vividly.
“You came to me and said you were some kind of a dream traveler. You said the conscious part of you didn’t know or understand it, but it’s some kind of power passed down to you from your Hawaiian heritage.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Shit. Shit shit shit.”
“You had that dream too?”
“Yes,” I muttered, feeling numb from head to toe. “I was here, watching you and me in bed. You were awake, but I was sleeping behind you. And I was telling you all these things as if they made complete sense—even though they were completely off the wall.”
We sat on the bed for a long moment, staring at each other.
It all came back, a flood of memories. Of knowledge. I remembered my grandfather, who was three-quarters Hawaiian, telling me about the dream walkers with a canny gleam in his dark eyes. I bowed my head to stare down at my blanket, remembering that before he died when I was eight, my grandfather and I had shared many an adventure together. In our dreams.
After he died, I’d forgotten all about it. Or, as I said in the dream, I’d repressed it.
I had been wrong—my words in the dream hadn’t been completely off the wall. I remembered every detail of everything I’d said and done to Lacey in her dreams. I’d awakened with my fingers wet from sliding through her slick folds and her scent filling my senses. I’d been in control in the dreams. I’d decided not to make love to her, to save her for me when both of us were awake. I’d told her the truth about myself, even as the words surprised me. I hadn’t given up on her. I’d known, somehow, that she was fighting some demon in her mind, and that she could still beat it. My dream self had known how to handle it when my wakeful self had bowed in defeat.
She cupped my jaw in her hands, forcing me to look up. “You helped me, Kai. Somehow, you made me confident enough to come to you on my own.”
I gazed at her for a long moment. Whatever had happened to me, to us, I loved her. I reached up and swiped my thumb gently over her cheek.
“If you hadn’t come to me in my dreams, I wouldn’t be here. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”
I brushed her hair back from her face. I was still shaken, but so happy. So thankful she was here with me. Thankful that she had finally beaten that demon. She was right. I could figure out this dream persona later…or maybe it had gone back into hiding, now that it had helped Lacey and me. But for now, she was here, and she was mine. When I spoke, my voice was raw. “Yeah, baby.”
She gave a slow exhale of relief.
“Goddamn you’re beautiful.”
“So are you.”
“I’m going make love to you again, Lacey. Do you want that?”
Her breath hitched in her throat. “I do,” she whispered.
I wrapped my arms around her, bringing her to her back on the bed. I tugged the blanket off and let my gaze rake over her beautiful, delicious body. I cupped her breasts, smoothing my thumbs reverently over her nipples.
“Kai…”
“Hm?”
“Did you mean what you said last night? Before we fell asleep?”
Keeping my hands on her breasts, my eyes snapped up to her face. I understood exactly what she meant. Did I really love her?
After a long moment of staring at her, I ran my teeth over my bottom lip. I felt completely exposed knowing all the need, lust…and love showed clearly on my face. When I bared myself to her, my voice was low. “Yeah, I meant it. I love you, Lacey. I love you so damn much.”
Lacey
I blinked. I’d never truly imagined what it would feel like to be here in this moment with him. I’d never dared to hope that he could actually fall for me, screw-up that I was. My heart surged with love for him.
And something else. Triumph. I’d won, after all. I’d beaten Josh, beaten my own insecurities, my own demon. And I’d won Kainoa Turner, the finest trophy of them all. Nothing could be better.
I slid my arms around his neck and pulled him close. “Thank God.”
He stiffened and pulled back, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
I smiled, and though I knew my heart was on my sleeve, I wore it confidently. “I love you too, Kai Turner. And I’m pretty sure I’ll love you forever.”
He drew me against his body, his erection grinding against my hip. “I’ve got to make love to you, Lacey.”
“Anytime,” I whispered. “Anywhere. I will never shy away from you again.”
“Even if I want to make love to you on the beach?”
I laughed a soft puff of breath. “Even then. I fantasized about it, you know, when we were lying there at Hapuna.”
“So did I.” His hand tightened on my waist, and his eyes narrowed. “You belong to me now. Nobody else is allowed to touch you. Only me. In the flesh…and in dreams. You got it?”
A thrill ran down my spine. “Yes, I’ve got it.” Not that I wanted anyone else. The only man who could truly satisfy me, my dream man, was real. And he was beside me, holding me in his arms.
“Good.”
His hand slipped from my hip and downward, his fingertips brushing softly between my legs. “You’re already ready for me, aren’t you?”
“I said anytime,” I gasped.
He made long, thorough love to me, and this time I didn’t hesitate at all, because I knew he found me beautiful. I knew I could please him and be pleased in return.
Most important, I knew he loved me.
Also by J. Haymore
Tropical Nights
10 Days in Paradise
Swept Away
Swept Away, Volume 1
Swept Away, Volume 2
Swept Away, Volume 3
Swept Away, Volume 4
Sugar Cay
The Remix
The Reunion
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author J. Haymore is the author of sexy historical and contemporary romance as both Jennifer Haymore and J. Haymore. Her books have been nominated for numerous awards, including five RT Book Reviews Reviewers Choice awards and the prestigious RITA® award for best historical romance.
You can find J. in Southern California trying to talk her husband into yet another trip to England, helping her three children with homework while brainstorming a new five-minute dinner menu, or crouched in a corner of the local bookstore writing her next novel.
Connect with Jennifer:
sign up for her newsletter: http://eepurl.com/iM6xb
Website: www.jenniferhaymore.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/jenniferhaymore
Facebook: www.facebook.com/jenniferhaymore-author
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/2762865
What to read next?
Check out 10 Days in Paradise,
a stand-alone novel from J’s Tropical Nights series.
10 Days in Paradise
A standalone story guaranteed to keep you warm on a cold winter's night...
Even though sun, sand and surfers are as foreign to Celeste McMillan as the L.A. corporate world is to Kanoe Anakalena, their chemistry sizzles off the page. As they spend sun-warmed days and plumeria-scented nights in each other’s arms, they start falling hard.
But love is totally out of the question. Kanoe is rooted in his island home, and Celeste’s future beckons in L.A. As the clock ticks down, Celeste realizes that letting go might be the greatest challenge she’s ever had to face.
Warning: Contains a combustible situation near a volcano; steamy scenes on beaches and in lava pools; h
ints of voyeurism, exhibitionism, and bondage; and some very creative uses of a surfboard.
Enjoy the following excerpt from 10 Days in Paradise:
Kanoe set the boards upright on the lanai and followed me inside. There, he sat me on the couch, then found a towel and wet a washcloth. He sat beside me and began to bathe my forehead with gentle strokes.
I gave him a rueful look. “This is becoming a habit. You helping me out, I mean. First with my gate and my luggage, and now with surfing and my stupid head injury. Maybe I should keep you around.”
“Maybe you should,” he said mildly.
Maybe I should.
There it was, the same dark gaze he’d given me out in the surf, before I’d made a complete idiot of myself.
Maybe he hadn’t minded my overexcited behavior, my inexperienced klutziness.
“I’m sorry I was an idiot.”
He raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“You know. The riptide. Surfing on my stomach all the way to the shore. Jumping up and down like a…” I frowned at his smile. “What?”
His smile transformed into a low chuckle as he gently pressed the towel to my wound. “I liked watching you out there.” His laugh diminished and his face turned serious again. “Not many people are as enthusiastic as you.”
I snorted softly. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”
He shook his head. “No it isn’t. It’s the truth.” He glanced toward the window, then back at me. “I’ve been surfing with Nalani since we were little kids, but I’ve never met a woman I—” Breaking off abruptly, he stood and raised the bloody towel in his hand. “I’m going to rinse this off.”
I watched him walk over to the sink. With his back to me, he rinsed off the towel. What had he meant? He’d never met a woman he…what? I was dying to know.
No point in dwelling on it. He was here now, and something was happening between us. The tentative first steps toward…something. What it could possibly end up being, I couldn’t imagine.
He wrung out the towel and headed back to the couch, lowering himself beside me. His expression was shuttered now—unreadable.
Impulsively, I reached out. My hand hovered above his shoulder. Then I swept my fingers across the broad black stroke of ink just below his collarbone.
He drew in a sharp breath.
The hair on the back of my neck prickled. His skin was taut, warm, smooth. The air between us felt electric, charged with something I couldn’t define.
“What does it mean?” I whispered, continuing to trace the line across his shoulder.
“It’s a tapa design. For my family and ancestors.”
“What about this?” I trailed the path to the outside of his upper arm, circling a leaf inside the pattern. Kanoe drew the washcloth down my shoulder.
“The ti leaves are symbols of rank and power.” Was it my imagination, or was his voice hoarse? “They’re also talismans against evil, to encourage the favor of the gods.”
I exhaled. “Why do the arrowheads wind around the leaves?”
“They represent the path of my life.”
He hooked his finger under my bikini’s shoulder strap, caressing the flesh underneath. “You got blood on it.”
It would only take a flick of his finger, and the strap would be down, exposing my breast.
I wanted him to do it. To strip me until I was naked, then lay me on the couch and— I swallowed that thought down.
“Ah, well. I have other bathing suits,” I said, trying to bring myself back to the realm of “light conversation with a guy I barely know”.
“Maybe a good idea not to wear this one again, anyway.” His fingertips stroked my collarbone.
“Why not?”
He stared at my mouth. “I think I like you. I don’t want you to get eaten.”
He thought he liked me. I swallowed hard, then frowned.
“Eaten? What, is there a giant silver-bathing-suit-eating manta ray lurking in these waters?”
He laughed gruffly, showing off his dimples.
I couldn’t tear my focus from him. He was so sexy, he took my breath away.
“No. I mean, there are rays, but not the kind that like to eat bathing suits. The sharks, though—they’re attracted to shiny metal things. Makes them think of fish scales.”
I frowned. “Really?”
His gaze dropped to my bikini top. He rubbed the bloody strap between his fingers. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
His eyes locked with mine. “I didn’t want to scare you. Don’t worry, there hasn’t been a shark attack at this beach in…” he pondered a moment, “…two years, I think.”
My mouth dropped open. “Two years? That’s not very long at all.”
“It’s long…” His voice seemed to come out in slow motion. The way his gaze had locked on to my lips sucked the air from my lungs. “Very…very…long.”
I stiffened. This guy was a stranger. This wasn’t part of the plan. I didn’t want this.
But that was a lie. I wanted it. Bad.
His fingers closed around the back of my neck, drawing me close. His lips brushed against mine, feather-soft. Then he kissed me.