Dream Strokes

She woke to sense a presence nearby, the feeling that another person was close. Forcing open her heavy-lidded eyes, she saw him standing beside her, broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, silver light glinting over the curls on his chest and brushing glistening streaks through the rich golden hair on his head.

He was big all over, and hard. Not workout hard like the men she knew. A warrior's body. There didn't look to be an ounce of give to him anywhere. He was without a doubt the most masculine man she had ever seen, muscles limned in the ambient light, his face defined by a square jaw and high cheek-bones. She couldn't see the color of his eyes in the dark, only that the faint light from the sky shone in them, reflecting the lust burning there.

Her heart trip-hammered, and she tried to move away on the bed.

He reached out and placed a hand on her arm, stopping her. "No. I won't harm you. Don't move."

She looked around. Yes, this was her bedroom, her window with the moonlight streaming in. But who was this man standing so close to her?

He lifted the sheet covering her naked body and drew it back, as if unwrapping a package, his eyes devouring her as each inch of her was revealed. Her flesh shivered under his gaze. When she lifted her arms to cover herself, he shook his head. "Why would you want to hide a body so beautiful and tempting?"

Erin dropped her hands to her sides, unexpectedly craving the stranger's touch, the caress of his gaze on her skin. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and heat bloomed throughout all her erogenous zones. How could she be doing this, exposing herself to a total stranger? Yet it seemed so very right. So ... so ... fated. That was it. Fated. As if arranged by a power greater than both of them.