The One For Me(3)

By: Sydney Landon

He was chuckling at her words when it hit him. She’d called him by name. His angel wasn’t deliriously asking for sex from a stranger. He had no idea who she was, but for the first time in so very long, he was interested in knowing more. This beauty seemed different from most of the women he’d met and with whom he had enjoyed a few hours of pleasure. As soon as she was conscious and coherent, he intended to find out who she was.

She’d already accomplished something that no one had in years.

Chapter Two

Crystal rolled over in bed, wincing at the wave of pain that one movement seemed to have caused. The glow of the clock on the bedside table showed that it was four in the morning, which would explain why the room was still pitch-black. Her limbs were heavy with fatigue as she curled around a pillow—and then she froze. She sniffed again just to make sure she hadn’t imagined it—but no, her bedding smelled like a man. Considering she hadn’t slept with anyone since her divorce, this was a very strange occurrence. Jerking upright, she fumbled on the bedside table for her lamp—but it wasn’t within easy reach as it should be. She stretched farther until, with a shriek, she was falling out of the bed.

She landed on the floor with a thud and a jarring of limbs. Ouch. She couldn’t remember her carpeted floor being this hard and cold. What happened next convinced her that she must still be dreaming. Light suddenly filled the room and a man who looked a lot like Mark DeSanto stood looking down at her in concern.

Instead of screaming in terror, she began laughing hysterically. Couldn’t she have just one hot sex dream? Maybe her riding Mark while he told her how perfect she was? Heck, she’d even be happy with a plain old missionary fantasy. But no, even in her dreams, she was awkward and always managed to embarrass herself. “Sorry about this,” she mumbled to her dream Mark. “Just let me get back in bed and fall asleep. If I’m lucky, you’ll be back and we’ll try this again.”

“Are you all right? Did you hit your head when you fell?” He sounded so real, his question caused her to frown. Her eyes widened as he squatted next to her.

Okay, this was officially freaky now. Dream Mark never talked this much. She quite liked this new development. He seemed so concerned for her. She decided to enjoy it while it lasted—or at least until she woke up. “I’m too weak to stand. Could you help me?” That wasn’t a complete lie, as her limbs were heavy, and she was sore already from the fall. Her breath hitched when he slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back before straightening with her in his muscular arms. “Wow, you smell good,” she moaned as she buried her face in the curve of his neck. When he didn’t protest, she took it one step further—and licked at the throbbing pulse she felt there with the tip of her tongue. He shuddered, freezing with her in his arms.

Crystal felt like a kid in a candy store. Shouldn’t she be awake by now? This felt so real. . . . And he smelled just like her pillow. She was pondering her next move when her stomach cramped. “What—?” she murmured in confusion. Then a wave of nausea rolled over her and she clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Oh no, not again,” dream Mark said, sounding panicked. He walked at a fast clip with her to the bathroom—only it definitely wasn’t hers. This one was opulent, with gleaming marble double sinks, a huge shower, and a Jacuzzi bathtub big enough to swim in. Crystal was still gawking when he lowered her to her feet in front of the toilet. He made no move to leave, though; instead, he kept a supporting hand on her back. “How are you feeling, Angel? Are you going to be sick?”

“Um—I don’t know,” she answered absently. “I think I just need to sit here for a minute.” He helped her down to the floor then seated himself just inches away. She could only stare at him since this whole dream was beginning to seem more like a walk into the twilight zone. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch his chest. She paused as she felt his heart beating against the palm of her hand. Jerking back as if burned, she began to notice little things like the fact that she was wearing what looked like a man’s button-down shirt while Mark had on a pair of lounge pants and a T-shirt. When her eyes met his, she found him staring at her with equal parts concern and curiosity. It was then that his last words really registered. “‘Angel’?”

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