Pleasures of the Night(12)
Author: Sylvia Day

Lyssa.

He was assaulted by a variety of smells, some pleasant, some not. In dreams, this plethora of sensory input was muted or overlooked. Not so in actuality. The sounds of this world were many, a cacophony of voices and machinery that increased his nausea. He stumbled out the front glass doors with a desperate need for circulating air.

Using trial-and-error in tandem with the alarm remote on the key chain, Aidan located the early-model white Toyota Corolla, the interior of which smelled like something stale and burnt. Once he realized the hideous odor came from the ashtray, Aidan tossed the entire thing out the window. He’d shared postcoital cigarettes in dreams, but never had the true rankness of the habit been revealed to him.

Altogether, his first impression of the new world was not a positive one, which only made him long for Lyssa with a biting hunger.

A torn map, endless one-way streets, and drivers who couldn’t stay in their lanes made getting to the freeway beyond frustrating, but Aidan was determined, and he used every bit of memory Dreamers had given him over the years to get on his way.

Toward the woman of his dreams.

"That sounds wonderful, Chad," Lyssa murmured into the phone while absently drawing doodles on her puppy-shaped notepad. "Really. But I’m not up for it tonight. I’m wiped out." Glancing up at the clock on the kitchen wall, she noted the time—six o’clock.

"Okay, forget the movie. I’ll cook."

Sighing, Lyssa rolled her tense shoulders and dropped the pencil to rub the back of her neck. "Dinner sounds great, it really does, but it’s been such a long day, and—"

The ring of the doorbell interrupted her.

"You work too hard, babe," Chad chastised softly. "You need to learn to say, ‘Come back tomorrow. I’ve got a man who wants to be with me.’"

She smiled. He was so patient with her, never pushing her to give more than she was ready for. There were a couple of times she had been really close to inviting him to spend the night, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was …off.

Had she now developed a fear of intimacy? Did the certainty that she wouldn’t live to a ripe old age make her wary and standoffish?

"The mailman’s at the door." Sliding off the stool at her breakfast bar, Lyssa stretched weary muscles. She was going to let Chad get close to her. No matter what. "Tomorrow’s Friday. Wanna take a rain check for Saturday?"

Chad’s frustrated exhale sounded across the lines that connected them. "Yes. Saturday. For sure."

"For sure. I promise. See you then." She set the receiver back into the cradle and crossed her small living room to the front door. Jelly Bean fell into step beside her while rumbling a low warning.

"Kick back, attack cat," Lyssa scolded, knowing that JB would ignore her and hiss with his usual grumpy fervor.

The bell buzzed again, and she jogged the last couple of steps. "I’m coming." Lyssa turned the knob and pulled the door open. "Do you need me to sign or some… th-thing…?"

Her voice stuttered into silence as her gaze lifted and met eyes of deeply intense sapphire brilliance. Well over six feet of pure, unadulterated, gorgeous male stood on her porch step.

She gaped.

He was so tall, so broad of shoulder, so overwhelming that he filled every inch of her doorway. The scent of his skin, something exotic and spicy and scrumptious, hit her at the same moment as the wickedly provocative curving of his sensual lips.

JB’s grumbling came to an abrupt halt.

"Holy shit." Her hand clutched the doorknob with white-knuckled strength. She had to force herself to breathe. In and out.

His gaze slid along the length of her body as a hot, tan-gible caress. Her knees went weak. She stumbled, and he stepped into her personal space, catching her elbow and anchoring her upright.

"Lyssa."

She blinked, the shock of that low-timbered voice with its soft brogue flaring across her skin. She’d heard that voice before, had heard her name spoken by it, and the heated awareness of his touch was near painful in its acute-ness.

The man on her doorstep was delicious. Impossibly so. Dark hair with silver-streaked temples, winged brows over eyes that devoured her, a firm jaw, and masterfully etched lips. A pale blue dress shirt was parted at the neck, revealing a light dusting of hair on a bronzed chest, and an opal-like stone hanging from a silver chain. Strong arms were revealed by rolled-up cuffs, arms that pulled her closer to that mesmerizing, erotically charged stare.

I’ve kissed him before.

No. She shook her head. She hadn’t. There was no way she could forget a man who looked as he did. He was almost otherworldly handsome, a man who was too hard, too chiseled, too dangerously male to be truly beautiful. But he was damn close.

Swallowing hard, she parted her lips to speak. Instead, he bent his head and took her mouth. Her legs gave out beneath her, causing her to sink a few inches before he caught her close and lifted her feet from the tiled entry-way.

A deep, hungry growl rumbled up from the man’s chest, vibrating softly against her br**sts, making her n**ples ache. Dizzy and confused, she lifted her hands to push him away, but the scent of his skin intoxicated her. I know him. Her fingers slipped into the silky hair at his nape.

The expert slanting of his lips across hers made her shiver. He hummed a soothing sound and stroked the length of her spine, gentling his kiss. The soft glide of his tongue, the deep licks, the gentle urging of his h*ps that rocked his erection against her… She moaned into his mouth, "Aidan."

His name came out of nowhere, filled with yearning and heated demands.

"I’m here, Hot Stuff." As if he knew her. As if he had come here for her. And that endearment… She felt as if she’d heard it before. In his voice.

Her chest heaving with panting breaths, Lyssa closed her eyes and rested her cheek on his shoulder. Her breath gusted across his exposed throat, making him shudder and hug her tighter.

"I—I don’t remember you," she whispered, inwardly certain they must have met—no, been intimate—at some point in her life.

He nuzzled his cheek against the top of her head and breathed deeply. "Don’t you?"

"I don’t…" The last time she had felt this disoriented was when she’d polished off a bottle of Captain Morgan with her best friend.

"I’ll make the introductions, then." His voice was a rough caress. "You’re Lyssa Bates. I’m Aidan Cross."

"You’re Aidan… I’m crazy."

His chuckle rumbled upward and made her toes curl. Then he stepped into her house as if he had every right to, and kicked the door closed behind him.

Strangely secure in his embrace, Lyssa leaned back to look at him, which was a mistake. The look he gave her was richly sexual and warmly amused. It was affectionate and appreciative—a lover’s look. He wrapped his fist in her hair and tugged her head back to lick and nibble at her throat. Overpowering her with the pure erotic heat he exuded.

She was not as surprised by his actions as she should have been. The gesture was deeply comforting, the touch of his lips to her skin as natural as breathing. He was so arrogantly assured, so confident of his right to touch her as he desired.

"I’ve lost my mind," she said with a sigh of defeat. "Finally."

"Hmm?" He nipped her earlobe.

"Or maybe I fell asleep and this is my dream? It would be totally okay to make out with hot strangers in dreams."

Aidan paused. "Totally okay to make out with this stranger."

"I’ve been reading too many romance novels with alpha males," she muttered. Then her tummy growled. Loudly. At first she thought it was JB, but no, he was rubbing up against Aidan Cross’s legs and purring like a kitten. Which Jelly Bean had never done even when he was a kitten. The darn cat had been born grumpy

They’d both gone crazy, which was oddly comforting.

"You didn’t eat all day again?" Aidan chastised, scowling down at her.

"Uh, dream guys don’t scold." As he set her away from him, Lyssa clung to his rock-hard forearms for balance. "I get enough of that from my mother."

"You need scolding to get you to eat regularly. You’re going to need your strength." He stepped back and then teetered. "Whoa!"

"Are you okay?" She steadied his significant weight with great difficulty.

"I’ve got jet lag. I think."

She sighed loudly. Fantasies weren’t supposed to get jet lag, so either this was real and she had just made out with a stranger, or this was the oddest dream ever. Of course, she’d only recently started remembering vague pieces of dreams, so maybe all the ones she couldn’t recall had been a bit wacky, too. How depressing.

Pushing him toward the sofa, she went along with the weirdness and asked, "Where are you from?"

Aidan smiled, and her heart did a little flip. "San Diego."

"Right. You flew up from San Diego."

"No. I drove up from San Diego." He sat, settling into the down cushions with an appreciative sigh. "It’s less than an hour’s drive, you know. When there aren’t so many cars in the way."

"Traffic. Yes, I know. So how’d you get the jet lag?"

"On the way to San Diego."

"Okay." Lyssa stepped back and crossed her arms. "Where did you come from before San Diego? Ireland? I admit I suck at pinning down accents. And yours is unusually luscious."

Struck by sudden deja vu at her own words, Lyssa stared, arrested, as Aidan’s smile widened, making him even more gorgeous. Why do I feel as if I know him so well? As if we’ve had this conversation before?

It was surreal to be hovering over a stranger who’d just kissed her senseless. But no matter what she told herself, she couldn’t convince herself that she had done something wrong.

"You’re very sexy when you’re grumpy," he said.

"Yeah? Well, you’re very sexy when you’re grinning like an idiot. And I’m not grumpy. Now, where did you come from?"

"Your dreams."

"Okay. Now I know I’m asleep. Real-life hot guys don’t say corny shit like that." It hadn’t really sounded corny, though. It had sounded sweet, kind of breathless, as if he was really happy to see her.

He caught her hand and tugged her into his lap. She considered a token protest, then thought, Screw it. He was hot and nice, and she was insane.

"Did we date in kindergarten or something?" she asked, studying his features with a frown.

"Or something," he replied evasively. "As a doctor, you’re trained to look for specific signs and then, based on those, you narrow it down to a diagnosis."

Lyssa arched a brow at her dream guy "Something like that."

"But sometimes you just have to go with your gut, right? Like now. You don’t remember me, but you’re pretty sure about me anyway."

"No. The only thing I’m sure about is that I’m certifiable."

Aidan closed his eyes and shook his head. Released from the snare of that intense gaze, Lyssa was able to look at the rest of his features more closely. His cheeks were flushed, his lips red. She touched his forehead with her inner wrist and detected fever.

"You’re burning up."

"It’s not contagious," he assured her, his eyes opening and his arms tightening when she tried to stand. "I’m just adjusting, I think."

"To what? Let me up." Wiggling, she broke free. "You should be in bed. We can reminisce about where we know each other from some other time."

"I could really use a bed. I haven’t slept in two days."

Lyssa stared at Aidan’s upturned face with wide eyes. "Long flight, huh? Do you need help finding a hotel?"

"The only thing I need is to be with you." He sank into the sofa back and groaned. "I ache all over."

"Shit." What the hell was she supposed to do with him? "This is where I call the police, right?"

Hello? 911 ? The hottest man I’ve ever seen (also the best kisser and best-smelling guy ever) just accosted me and is now passed out on my—

She watched with mouth agape as JB crawled into Aidan’s lap and settled comfortably, nuzzling his gray and black head into her dream guy’s abdomen. Aidan lifted his hand and rubbed her cat behind the ears, even though he was obviously sick as a dog. The tender gesture made her feel all mushy inside.

"Please don’t," he breathed, his head falling back. "You know me. You… me… you and I…" He yawned, and looked adorable. "I’m sorry. I don’t mean to fall asleep like this. I’ve never felt this crappy in my life. And your couch is comfortable."

"Yeah, well… Don’t mention it," she said lamely. "But you should take something for that fever." Before she knew what she was doing, Lyssa walked into the kitchen and fetched a bottle of Tylenol. Her hands shook as she opened it.

Aidan.

She had known his name. Surely that meant she knew him. Why the hell couldn’t she remember?

The ringing of the phone caused her to jump and drop the bottle on the floor. Lucky for her, the childproof cap hung in there. She leaned over the sink and grabbed the receiver, glancing aside to see her guest fast asleep on her couch. The sight of him, so large and formidable, now sprawled and relaxed, made her sigh. Even wearing ill-fitting clothes, Aidan Cross made her mouth water.

"Dr. Bates," she said in muted tones as she set the phone to her ear.

"Hey, Doc." Stacey’s cheerful voice was like a lifeline thrown to a drowning woman. "I’m just reminding you that we’re opening late tomorrow, because of Justin’s birthday thing at school."

"Gotcha. Thanks. I forgot. Again." Lyssa rounded the breakfast bar and slid onto her customary stool so she could drink in Aidan’s dark good looks while he slept. "Stace?"

"Yeah?"

"Something weird is going on over here."

"Hot monkey sex?"

Lyssa snorted. "Since when is hot monkey sex weird?"

"True."

"Weird to me is when the doorbell rings and the most delicious man you’ve ever seen walks in, kisses you senseless, and then camps out on your couch."