He watched her while she slept.
His eyes were haunting, nearly the color of midnight. They were eyes full of lust. Eyes full of need.
He came to her most nights, but she didn’t know his name. She’d never even seen his face.
Only his eyes.
Tonight, they looked down on her with a desire so intense, it made her writhe on the crisp white sheets of her bed. Heat poured through her veins. She wanted him so badly. In vain, she kicked off the covers, trying to ease her distress.
His eyes sparked, and his blistering gaze ran down her form. Yet he didn’t touch.
He never touched. He only watched.
She slid to the side of the bed, trying to get closer to where he stood over her. Her nightgown rode high on her thighs and dipped low between her aching breasts.
She wanted to see him. Wanted to know his face. His body.
She needed to know his body.
Fighting through the weight of the fog, she lifted her hand toward him. Just once, she had to touch him.
His eyelids drooped and, for a moment, she thought he’d let her. Her fingers brushed whisper-close to his brow, but he retreated. Regret made the luminous light of his eyes dim.
“No,” she whispered, instinctively knowing what was to come. “Stay with me.”
Tormented, his dark eyes closed.
In a flash, he was gone.
Devon came awake with a jolt, her body throbbing. With a groan, she collapsed back onto the mattress.
When was she going to stop doing this to herself? When would she learn?
Her dream man was only that.