I smiled at him and walked toward the other side of the bed, slipping under the covers so that a good two or three feet of mattress separated the two of us. His dark head of hair lulled to the side to look at me. "Are you ready to go to bed so we can get up early?"

"Sure," I told him.

He turned off the television and reached over to turn off the lamp on the side table before the darkness engulfed the room. Only the noises we caused shifting under the covers sounded before his husky voice cleared. "Goodnight, Kat."

"Night," I mumbled out, rolling over so that I faced his side of the bed.

I closed my eyes and immediately envisioned Tristan's sopping wet body against the doorframe again while I fell asleep. It seemed that almost immediately once my eyes were closed, I was dreaming of Tristan possibly for the first time. He was leaning over me, like he had been the day before when we were talking about the reasons why he quit, but he was whispering dirty things into my ear and grinding against me. I kept calling his name with each dry thrust and even in my dream it felt amazing.

At some point, my mind started to wake up when the rubbing felt a little too real.

Just like at the end of my hot yoga classes, it seemed like every inch of my body slowly awakened, every nerve heightened to the heat and the cold that lapped against it. It started from the cold tips of my toes and slowly ran up my exposed calves and then thighs, which were pressed from behind by muscle, hair, and oh my god, something thick, hard, and long rubbing gently against my bottom. The blanket was kicked to the end of the bed so the cold air of the room washed over me, or technically us, I guessed, but it only caused me to revel in the warmth behind me that much more.

One of his hands was on my hip, already underneath the t-shirt and skimming the skin on my stomach. His mouth was nipping at my earlobe, alternating gentle flicks of tongue against the shell. I moaned, deep and hoarse like a wanton whore. I was still half asleep as his long fingers circled their way up my flesh until the tips brushed against my chest, causing me to buck against him, whimpering. Was it wrong to want him this badly? Despite the fact that Nikki and Josh were into casual sex, I was not. Every man I'd been with — the whopping three — had all been boyfriends and yet, I'd never wanted any of them the way I craved Tristan. He was my crack simply put.

"You kept saying my name in your sleep," he groaned into my ear. "Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"

Shamelessly, I pressed my back into his body, causing him to hiss. "I have an idea," I said, but my throat was thick and still full of sleep so it sounded raspy.

"It was the hottest fucking thing I've ever heard," he whispered before rolling me onto my back in a flash before his thighs pressed mine apart. It was so dark I couldn't see anything but the faint outline of his large frame hovering over me. Both of his hands were now on my hips, so I could only guess that he was on his knees between my legs.

"I hope this is okay," he murmured, and then gripped the edge of the shirt I had on, tugging it up so that it bunched underneath my chin.

Then I felt cold air brushing my skin before his mouth, with heat that rivaled lava, devoured me. "Holy shit," I panted and arched my back like I was trying to thrust more of myself into his mouth.

Despite the growl in his voice, his mouth was gentle but persistent as he sucked me into his mouse. His hands kneaded the skin on my ribs before I felt one hand glide down my side, leaving a trail of heat over my hip bone before cupping me through the material of my underwear. I couldn't think. I couldn't remember my fucking name when he started rubbing those fingers up and down my flesh, pressing deliciously right where I wanted him the most.