Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Wait, what?
Right. Yes. Dream. The thugs, all four of them, are just as big as this guy. Huge, actually. All great hulking beasts. They’re not brutal-looking men. They’re actually quite young. Probably in their twenties and thirties. And holy moly cheese and crackers, these guys might just fill in whatever gaps I thought had been missing in my dream because they are all handsome as sin. Not scary. Dangerous, yes, but not frightening.
I turn my throbbing head back to Mr. Tall, Dark, And Deliciously Dangerous, tilt up my chin, and start sassing. This is my dream, and I’m going to decide how it’s going to go. Plus, I don’t want to wake up before I get to the good parts. My life has seriously been lacking good parts lately.
“This is the part where you undress me slowly, tantalize me with every step, worship my body, call me your queen, and take me to live in your dark, shadowy, underground world, with me ruling by your side as your metaphorical queen of crime. Oh, and of course, I’ll have an entirely black wardrobe to match.”
“Uhhhhhh…” Mr. Tall, Sexy Beast, God-man’s lips crease at the corners but don’t turn up in a full smile. Those lips are a shade of dark pink, stained like he’s been indulging in too many strawberries. The color isn’t manly, but somehow, it suits him.
The first jets of saliva explode at the back of my mouth, moistening my thick tongue. What the shit, did my mouth actually just water over his lips?
It’s clear that I’ve amused him. But I’m not sure why. Maybe in dreams, you’re not supposed to talk about how the dream is going to go. Maybe it’s taboo. Also, I’ve just amused myself when my mouth started watering. That wouldn’t happen in real life. In real life, Azalea White is a proper lady.
“I can see the drugs still haven’t worn off. I apologize for the cloak and dagger of it all and for virtually kidnapping you, though I prefer to use the word borrowing. I just couldn’t think of another way, and I knew you wouldn’t come quietly.”
Mr. Dream God leans forward in the chair he’s sitting on across from me, setting his massive elbows onto massive knees. His suit shifts with his movement, and whatever fabric it’s made out of, just damn. It fits him like black fits sin.
Kidnapped? Oh, this dream is finally getting wild. Here come the good parts. “Oh, I would have come,” I purr.
Isn’t that what one is supposed to say? Something sexy with sexy undertones? Honestly, I wouldn’t know. Aside from a few very unsatisfying experiences and a few failed relationships, I guess I can say that I’m married to my work. I live through reading. I mean, doesn’t every librarian? I don’t think I’m anything special in that regard. Or any more pathetic than the next person. I’m still young. I have time to figure things out, right?
“Good lord.” The stranger’s eyes flick to the men standing around the dark room. There are a few shuffling steps in response, some throat clearing, a grunt, and a rumble that is either someone’s stomach or—well, someone playing an off-key butt tuba.
The room. It smells damp and earthy. Do dreams have smells? It’s all concrete floors below us. Where am I? Some kind of torture chamber? Or, duh, a basement. The room is bare, with just a single light bulb hanging from above and two chairs occupied by myself and the devil of darkness across from me. Things are getting awkward, so I break the silence.
“Oh, I see. So this is the part where you pretend not to be some really bad crime boss who does really bad things—and wants to do really bad things—to me. This is the part where you tell me you’re not the mafia, and I’m not dreaming.”
He blinks, a gentle sweep of long, thick lashes that I want to taste. Taste? What the actual heck? His lips, sinfully perfect, too-red lips, curl up this time, revealing a dimple on his right cheek and a sparkle in his eyes. His nostrils twitch when he does it, which kind of ruins the sexiness of it all, but only because it makes me want to smile as it’s so perfectly adorable.
“Sweetheart, those drugs are going to wear off any second, and you’ll realize that you aren’t dreaming. And we sure as shit on a biscuit aren’t the mafia.”
CHAPTER 2
Azalea
Mr. Lovely God-Human mumbles something under his breath that I can’t hear after he makes his denial about dreams and about being part of the mafia.
I roll my eyes, even though it makes my head feel like a bunch of sharp papers have been stuffed inside, and they’re slicing up my brain. Paper cuts are just the worst. Also, I’m probably not processing things properly at the moment. “Oh, right. Sure. That’s why you’re all dressed in black, looking all big and scary. Because you don’t do bad things.”