See You in My Dreams: Speed, Book 1 (3 page)

His hand now lay next to hers on the table, almost touching but not quite. Sophie imagined she could feel the heat emanating from it.

He hesitated before shaking his head. “I was on vacation. Spent the last two months up in Queensland.”

A two-month holiday? Nice. Lifestyles of the rich and famous—so unlike hers it was laughable. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a holiday.

“But from here on it’s all work,” Nathan told her. “I’ll be in Sydney a few more days and then I’m flying to Melbourne, Adelaide, Perth, Brisbane and Auckland.”

His voice flowed over her like hot syrup, resonating through her stomach and lower.

From nowhere, a scene from a dream she’d had the night before flashed through her head. In it she was naked and aroused, watching someone approach, her sense of anticipation building and her nipples tightening into hard, needy buds.

She shrugged off the memory. “That’s quite a schedule.”

He leaned forward. “It’s busy. But I’m used to it.”

“You travel a lot?”
Mmmm.
His movement had shifted his hand so his thumb now brushed against hers. Damn, the contact felt sweet.

“I never used to, but in the last couple of years it seems like it’s all I ever do. The two months in Queensland was a break I needed badly.”

Move your hand away, Soph.

She didn’t. “Did you have a chance to relax?”

He grinned. “I surfed, swam and discovered every restaurant on the Sunshine Coast. Yep, I had a chance to relax.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what line of work he was in, but she made a conscious decision not to. A question like that would invariably lead back to her line of work, and she simply wasn’t interested in comparing their jobs. His obviously afforded him the luxury of staying in obscenely expensive accommodation and taking two-month-long holidays. Hers let her maintain her gramma’s flat, pay off her loan and have just enough left over on a monthly basis to cover other essential costs.

He took a sip from the cup he’d placed on the table and sighed with happiness. “Delicious.”

Oh, to be a cup of coffee right now, to have those lips sip from her. “You should try the croissants.”

“They any good?”

“Best in Sydney.” Because there was little to no chance she was moving her hand away from his, she used her other hand to push the plate over to him. “See for yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t mind sharing?”

Typically she did. But to her surprise she had no problem with this virtual stranger taking a bite. “Not at all. Go ahead.”

Using the hand that did not lie next to hers, Nathan broke off a small piece and popped it in his mouth. Sophie’s gaze followed his every action. She nearly groaned out loud as his made-to-be-kissed lips closed around the appetizing morsel.

Lizzie’s croissants were mouthwatering at the best of times. The way Nathan devoured this one made it look like the food of the gods.

“You’re right.” He shot her a killer smile and took another bite. “This is good.” He took off his glasses, folded them and set them down beside his cup.

Sophie froze. Blood drained from her upper body down to her legs, making them heavy and limp.

Dear God. It isn’t possible.

Looking at her, across the tiny table, was the same set of eyes she’d dreamed about the night before. And the night before that. And possibly every night of her adult life. She couldn’t remember the first time she’d seen them in her sleep, she just knew they were as familiar to her as her own bed. The voice of the owner had never materialized in her dreams, nor had the face around the eyes. There’d always been a vague outline, with indistinguishable features. The only clearly discernible part of the man who frequented her nighttime images was his eyes.

Nut-brown eyes with flecks of black and green. Eyes that crinkled when he smiled. Yes, Sophie acknowledged, thousands, even millions, of men had irises the color of almonds. No way she could know specifically these were
the ones
.

Except for the scar. The centimeter-long scar that ran from the outside of his left eye, diagonally up towards his eyebrow. So faded with age that it was almost invisible. Had Sophie not known to look for it, she would never have noticed it.

She stared at him, utterly mystified and totally beguiled.

He seemed equally enthralled by her, returning the intensity of her gaze, not looking away for a second. Not even blinking.

She’d not noticed his eyes this morning. Hell, she hadn’t noticed much apart from his beautiful, naked physique and rising erection.

Her heart pounded fiercely. This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be happening.

The gaze that she knew so well, so intimately, was not real. It was attached to a dream man. A lover who visited her only at night, while she slept. A lover who did wonderfully evocative things to her. Seduced her, aroused her, made love to her, fucked her senseless…

And yet, there they were. Those oh-so-familiar eyes. The ones she knew as well as her own.

That odd sense of déjà vu she’d just experienced? Maybe it was her body telling her what it had picked up on without her brain knowing. She sat across the table from the man she made love to on a regular basis—in her dreams. The same man who made her come, over and over again, who’d treated her to more orgasms in the last month alone than she’d experienced in her total conscious life.

A million times she’d researched dreams and their symbolism, trying to find some reason for having the recurrent dreams. She’d found none, no matter how many different symbols she’d studied, which made dealing with her nighttime images all too complicated. She simply could not explain them away.

She had less luck trying to explain away her dream lover materializing in her conscious world.

No theory on earth, either psychological or related to dreams, could possibly have covered that ground.

As she stared at him, trying not to panic, his gaze darkened.

“Tell me, Sophie,” he drawled slowly, “do you look at every man like that?”

She watched his lips move and wondered how they’d feel sliding over her neck and down to her breasts. The same as her dream lover’s? Hot and moist and salacious?

“L-like what?”

He inched his hand against hers. “Like they’re dinner.”

She caught herself before she could say, “Only the ones I dream about.” Fortunately. An answer like that would make him think she was crazy.

“Uh…no. Not every man.”

“So it’s just me then?” He hooked his thumb over hers. The movement was so unexpected, so seductive, her thought processes were once again thrown into chaos.

“What’s just you?” A pulse beat in his neck, and she gave idle consideration to leaning over and nibbling the skin covering it. She’d nibbled it before. In her sleep. And dear Lord, the tang. Salty and sweet all at once. Would he taste the same now?

What the…?

Was she mad? He couldn’t possibly taste the same as a figment of her imagination. Couldn’t possibly be the man she saw in her sleep.

He wasn’t real.

Was he?

“Am I the only one you look at with those irresistible bedroom eyes?”

Her hand burned where his touched hers. “It’s like I know you,” she whispered.

His eyes widened and then narrowed. “You…know me?”

Sophie’s jaw dropped. Damn it, what else was she going to say before catching her tongue?
I dream about you every night? Hot, erotic dreams that leave me gasping for breath, wet and sometimes even shuddering from an orgasm.

Hell, no. He’d think she suffered from psychotic delusions.

She herself was beginning to think she may be delusional.

Grasping at straws for a
rational
explanation as to where she may know him from, she looked around, and quite unexpectedly found the answer to her dilemma on a billboard stuck to a wall. A billboard like one of the ten thousand other billboards that had been plastered around the city.

Nathan was a dead ringer for Jamie Speed, lead singer of
Speed
, the hottest rock band in the world. Sophie couldn’t flick through TV channels without hearing news reports about Jamie and his two brothers, who had touched down in Sydney three days ago for the start of their world tour. She’d seen them a million times. On CD covers and magazine pictures. On the front page of the newspaper and countless TV shows.

And on Saturday afternoon, just two days away, she, Tasha and their friend, Kaz, were going to the
Speed
concert.

“You look just like Jamie Speed,” she told Nathan, staring at him slack-jawed, because seriously, he did. Identical. Apart from his hair and eyes, Nathan could pass for the guy voted the World’s Sexiest Man by
People
magazine. A man with a voice so exquisite it sent chills up her spine whenever he sang.

Jamie Speed, however, had short brown hair, smooth-shaved skin and brilliant green eyes. A deep, piercing emerald green. Trademark green eyes, just like his two brothers.

Shit, maybe she was delusional after all. First she’d indentified the man as her dream lover, now she was confusing him with Jamie Speed.

Seriously, she should just shut up. If anyone got a look into her head now, she’d be forcefully hospitalized—in a psychiatric facility.

Nathan’s brows were pulled together in a frown. His shoulders were hunched, and his hand and arm had gone rigid. The air around him seemed to shimmer with tension.

Then he took a deep breath and relaxed.

“I get that a lot.” He shrugged. “Even laugh about it with my family sometimes.”

Shew!
She wasn’t the only one confusing him with Jamie Speed. “That must be quite something, being mistaken for a rock star.”

At least her original faux pas was all but forgotten. She had no reason to tell Nathan she’d recognized him…from her dreams.

“I’ve had a few people come up and ask for my autograph this last year.” He grinned. “Sometimes I take whatever they’re shoving under my nose and sign it,
Love, Jamie
.”

“You do not.” Laughter bubbled from her chest.

“Well, how do you think they’d feel if I signed it,
Love, Nathan
?”

The laughter escaped. As Sophie sat chuckling with Nathan, she realized she was utterly captivated by him. And not just by his eyes—but by his looks, his charm, his humor and from what little she knew of it, his personality too. If someone had packaged up the ideal man for Sophie, it would have been Nathan.

Now if she could just understand how on earth she’d dreamed about him for ten years…

She was baffled and a little bit freaked out, and she couldn’t look away from him.

As hard as she stared at him, enchanted, so he stared back at her.

He truly was beautiful. The wild-child, unshaven image had always worked for her, and now was no different. Add to that the familiarity of his nut-brown—
not-green
—eyes and she was smitten. Of course he wasn’t Jamie Speed. But he was beautiful. And he provided the perfect face to the eyes she’d dreamed of for so long.

His thumb still hooked through hers, he asked, “Should I be flattered you think I look like Jamie Speed?”

“Uh, I just compared you to the sexiest man alive. What do you think?”

“I think I’d love it if you thought I was sexy.”

She swallowed hard. “My reaction to your erection in your room earlier didn’t give me away?”

A low laugh rumbled from his throat. “You mean your hundred-meter sprint out of the apartment? Sweetheart, you couldn’t wait to get away from me.”

She gave him an are-you-insane look. “It was either that or jump you. A guest at the apartments. Which should I have chosen?”

Good grief. Had she left her tact at home this morning? This simply was not Sophie speaking.

“Do I really need to answer that?” His smile was sexy, teasing. His eyes turned dark and hazy, like they did in her dreams when he was aroused. They left her with no doubt which option he would have chosen. They also left her questioning her sanity—again.

Her knees turned to jelly. Red heat sparked in her stomach.

He stared at her as though mesmerized. “Christ, you’re beautiful.”

She almost snorted at his proclamation. Scrubbing bathrooms and dirty floors for a living did not leave her looking like a million bucks. But his words and the sincerity on his face made her heart beat a little faster.

He leaned in closer and spoke in the softest of voices. “I’ve met you—” he stopped, blinked and frowned, “—twice. And both times I’ve been aroused beyond decency.” Desire blazed in the brown depths of his irises.

Sophie swallowed hard. After one of her dreams, she’d wake up aroused and achy. Pretty much the way she felt now, talking to Nathan.

Could Nathan be her dream lover?

No, he couldn’t. Because there is no such thing as a dream lover magically appearing in real life.

He made a growling sound that vibrated through her belly. Without saying a word, he lifted her hand in his and traced her index finger with his thumb. The light touch sent shockwaves hurtling through her.

Her body burned. Fire raced through her veins. Desire, dizzying and delicious swept over her. He’d done this before.
While she slept.

The air between them crackled.

A second passed. A minute. Maybe more, maybe less. Then Nathan lifted her hand and brought it to his face. As she watched, he dragged his mouth over her index finger, scorching her skin from her knuckle to her fingertip.

His lips were just as soft and delicious as she remembered.

Remembered?

She whispered his name.

He nuzzled the tip of her finger, before drawing it into his hot, moist mouth. He’d done this to her before too. Often.

Holy shit.

Her body burned. Lust seeped from the point of contact with his mouth, through her arm, into her stomach and lower. It curled in a tight ball between her legs, stirring up an insistent hum of need.

“Mmmm,” he murmured.

An image blossomed in her mind, one that stemmed from her dreams. Her lips covered him—just like his had covered her finger. Only it wasn’t his finger she nuzzled. It was his cock.