Samuel awoke panting, his body drenched in sweat, the sheets coiling around his legs like serpents. The room was shrouded in darkness, but the image of Alyssa, with her back arched and lips slightly parted, calling out his name in a husky moan, still seared behind his closed eyelids.
He rubbed his face with his hands, as if attempting to scrub away the vision. Damn.
It was the third such dream of the week.
The house was quiet, yet he could sense her presence in the neighboring room, warm, alive, within reach.
The cold shower provided no relief. Neither did ten minutes of controlled breathing. The image of her dancing in his lap, the scent of her perfume, the way her eyes sparkled when she challenged him in the kitchen — everything was imprinted in his mind as if a curse.
This needs to
