Night After Night...

He’d never been in a situation like this before …

But really, what was the big deal? Jason thought. So he and Christy had been dreaming about each other. They were right in the middle of the ‘sex-all-the-time’ part of their relationship. Of course they’d dream about each other.

But the exact same dream? That wasn’t possible. But then again, it kind of explained why he’d had a dream about being a spa guy. A naked spa guy. That was obviously Christy’s contribution.

Jason grinned when he thought about that, choosing to focus on the fact that she thought he was hot. That she’d thought he was hot before they’d officially met. That was cool. Still …

God, he needed a run.

He ran. He swam. He saw his therapist, to whom he said absolutely nothing about his dreams. He was freaked out, but he wasn’t stupid. Talking about shared dreams would be career suicide, especially in the military. They did, however, talk about Christy and what was going on between them.

In the end, Jason agreed with the doc: women were good. Sex was good. He should stop worrying and just enjoy it.

Which worked out great … until he met her for dinner later.

USA TODAY bestselling author KATHY LYONS has made her mark with sizzling romances. She adores unique settings, wild characters, and erotic, exotic love. And if she throws in a dragon or a tigress here and there, it’s only in the name of fun! An author of more than thirty novels, she adores the fabulousness that is Blaze! She calls them her sexy treat and hopes you find them equally delicious! Kathy loves hearing from readers. Visit her at www.kathylyons.com or find her on Facebook and Twitter under her other penname, Jade Lee.

Dear Reader,

I have a friend who puts great stock in her dreams. She considers them messages from beyond. Me? I think my dreams are the flotsam and jetsam of my mind, pulling random stuff together and presenting them as a story because that’s what I do. I put stories together from random stuff.

But once, I had an erotic dream. Okay, okay, maybe not so much an erotic dream as a dream about a facial that I was getting for my birthday. But by the time I woke up, I had this great idea about a couple of strangers sharing hot dreams. I mean, do you actually confess to the stranger, “Hey I had this great dream about you last night”? Heck no! So how long before you fess up? How intimate do you get in the real world before the dream world makes an appearance?

When I told my friend about it, she asked me to think about what purpose those images could have. What is the underlying message in a series of erotic dreams? From there, well, Night After Night … was born.

I hope you enjoy your nights as much as Christy and Jason do!

Best,

Kathy Lyons

Night After

Night …

Kathy Lyons

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1

CHRISTY BAKER WAS HAVING a great dream. She knew it was a dream because when, honestly, would a hot marine step into an esthetician’s room and start giving her a facial? Especially since he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

Yowza! Ever since she’d hit puberty while living on a military base, she’d had fantasies about soldiers. Didn’t matter what branch of the military so long as they were half-naked and ripped. And as she got older, the “half” part of naked disappeared.

Hence the awesome dream right now of a naked marine gently slathering sea-something onto her face. She was lying on a heated, cushioned table while he slowly stroked therapeutic mud onto her face and her toes curled in delight. Then she let out a purr of appreciation. It was a dream, right? She could purr if she wanted to. He looked down at her, his blue eyes sparkling with humor.

“So you like this stuff, huh?”

“Come over this way.” She reached for his bulging bicep and tugged him down by the side of the table.

He complied, and oh, yes, ripped abs, sculpted torso, and a cute dimple in his left cheek. Sadly, she couldn’t see the lower half of his body, but she was sure it was equally impressive.

“Much better,” she said.

“You know this is a full-body treatment, right?” he said, flashing that dimple again.

“Of course it is,” she said. Because this was an awesome dream.

“Then just close your eyes and relax. Let me do all the work.”

“I leave myself in your capable hands,” she crooned as she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the experience. Except, of course, it wasn’t nearly as much fun without the view, so she opened them a moment later.

He was by the sink, his back to her and his buttocks in full display. Was that a tattoo of a swallow on his hip? It didn’t matter. The tat just made him all the more mouthwatering.

He was mixing the mud, and she caught a flash of his large hands in and out of stuff that looked like rich, dark chocolate. Soon those hands and that stuff would be all over her body. Best. Dream. Ever.

He must have known she was watching, because he looked over his shoulder at her and flashed her a wink. “This will take just a second. The best stuff comes when you’re fully ready.”

She was ready. Any more ready and this dream would have a premature ending. Better to focus on something else. Like his narrow waist. The ripples in his back as he worked. “Listen to those kids,” she said. “Don’t they sound like they’re having fun?”

What? Where had that question come from? And yeah, there were kids laughing and cheering in the background. Probably a playground nearby. But what did that have to do with her full-body treatment?

He tilted his head, obviously listening for something. A frown appeared between his brows, and his eyes grew distant. Worse, he stopped kneading the dark chocolate mixture and she felt she was losing her grip on him.

“Stop thinking so hard!” she cried to bring him back to her. “We were doing something here.” She hated it when her dreams spun off in the wrong direction.

He blinked and focused on her. He had turned to face her again, but she still didn’t get a look at his body. Not the full frontal, but that was okay. He was carrying the bowl of the chocolate mixture over to her side and his eyes no longer had that distant, slightly lost look. Right now he was zeroing in on her. Well, her breasts actually, which were abruptly uncovered for his viewing.

Any other time she might have felt self-conscious. She had nice breasts. Round, full, large. She tended toward the plump side of life anyway. So if this were real life, she’d be covering up the pounds and praying that he wasn’t repulsed.

But this was the best dream ever because when he looked at her, his eyes gleamed. He liked what he saw. He wanted what he saw. And whatever bit of self-consciousness that lived in this dream faded away from the delight in his eyes.

“So, I’m supposed to spread this all over?” he asked.

She nodded. “That’s what happens in full-body treatments. It’s to purify and soften the skin. And since I have skin everywhere …”

“I better make sure to cover every inch.”

She continued playing along. “It’s important that I get my money’s worth. This is a top-end spa.”

“Is that what this is?” he asked, as he looked around curiously.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t work anywhere but in the best places.”

He let loose an outright burst of laughter. “Actually, I work in the worst pits on the planet.”

She waved his statement away. “That’s your day job. This is your night job.” She steadfastly ignored the bright sunlight and the sound of kids’ laughter outside. “Right now, you’re here with me in a luxury spa and I’m waiting for my treatment.”

He smiled at her and wasn’t that a megawatt doozy? It wasn’t that his teeth gleamed or anything. It was just a warm, fun smile like you might get from the guy next door. Especially if the guy who lived next door was hot and naked and intent on touching every part of your body.

“Do I start at your face and work down? Or go straight for the gold?”

“Your choice. I’m easy.” She could be easy in a dream, right? So the double entrendre was exactly what she meant.

He scooped out some of the mixture and squished it between his hands. His eyes never left hers as he worked, and as much as she wanted to watch the play of muscles on his chest, she couldn’t force herself to look away from his beautiful blue eyes.

And then he was finally, blessedly, done with mixing and got down to the stroking. He started on her neck, putting on the chocolate with long strokes that went from her chin down to the tops of her breasts. Wow, that felt good. Like heat and sweetness being rubbed gently into her body. How she could taste the sweetness of him, she didn’t know, but that was the beauty of dreams.

She released a low, throaty purr. He smiled and that dimple flashed at her.

“I love that sound,” he said.

“I love what you’re doing to make me make that sound.”

Oh, why couldn’t she be suddenly witty for just once? Fortunately, her marine esthetician didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her eyes closed, first the left, then the right.

The scent of him was perfect! Her eyelids stayed shut to appreciate the deliciousness of it.

And then his hands found her breasts.

He shaped her, he stroked her, he thumbed across her nipples while her purr dropped to a huskier octave. Okay, so she loved it when a guy spent a long time on her breasts. She loved it even better when he began licking her nipples, sucking them to a point, and sometimes a little nip here and there would send her to the moon.

He did it all. Before she knew it—before she wanted it—she was grabbing his massive shoulders and coming with a cry!

Which woke her right up. Damn! That was one dream she would have loved to stay with for a while. For a long while.

She rubbed her eyes and stretched, hearing herself purr for real. The ripples were still going, though they were fading too quickly. Still that had been a great dream. Hawaii must be having a beneficial effect on her psyche.

She lay in bed, just appreciating the luxury of the new environment. It wasn’t that she was living in a resort or anything. Traveling Officer Quarters, or TOQ, at Pearl Harbor Navel Station were not high living by any standards. But it was a different location than her Cincinnati apartment, and a different job than a kindergarten teacher in an Ohio public school. She was a summer tutor for kids stationed at the naval base. For Christy, that meant a paid summer in Hawaii. Who wouldn’t want that?

It’s not that she didn’t enjoy her regular life in Ohio, but she’d gotten the feeling lately that she was stuck in a rut. She hung out with the same people every day, ate the same food, did the same things. Every day. Her friends and colleagues all knew about her and her very military family, knew that she suffered from chronic joint pain, and knew that she struggled every day to walk and move like a normal person. She never tried anything new because everyone tried to stop her. They were afraid she’d hurt herself. So she gave in and never challenged herself or anyone else. Until the day she heard about the opening at Pearl Harbor. A place far from Ohio where no one knew her at all.

Despite the objections from her family, she’d applied and gotten the job. For this summer only, she was a summer tutor in Hawaii. She taught English in a classroom on base from ten to noon Monday through Friday, plus she had private sessions with about a dozen kids. It was a great job and one she was well qualified to do. Better yet, no one knew her here. No one knew that her joints might swell up and make her walk like the Tin Man who’d been out in the rain all day. She was just Miss Baker, summer tutor and English teacher. Perfect and blessedly anonymous. She could do whatever she wanted, be whomever she wanted, and experiment however she chose.

After this summer, she’d reevaluate. Did she want her old life back in Ohio? Or was it time for a bigger, better, more sweeping change? So, simple steps. A little exploration in Hawaii where no one could baby her. And no one would stop her. If it worked out, then maybe she’d make a bigger change after the summer.

She got out of bed slowly, smiling because life was just that good this morning. It helped that her joints didn’t hurt so much. She didn’t know if it was because of the change in climate or her dream, but either way was good with her. Chronic joint pain was something she’d lived with her entire life. Sometimes it was just her knees and hips that ached. Sometimes it was her whole body. Drugs helped—some. Rest helped—some. Mostly, it just was. Some days were fine, some days were painful, and some were just agony. She never knew what to expect. So this morning’s dream plus a lack of pain made everything in Hawaii feel rosy and new.

Her calendar flashed her a morning motto of: embrace the unexpected gift. She thought that was especially appropriate today. Then it was a shower and a sundress. Her first tutoring appointment wasn’t until nine, so she had a little bit of time.

Her hair was still wrapped in a towel when she walked barefoot into the kitchenette. The Traveling Officer’s Quarters (TOQ) was built like a low-budget motel. Her room had a bed, a desk, a television and a bathroom. Plus one other thing: a connecting door that led to a kitchenette that was shared with whoever held the room next door. It was a galley kitchen, barely big enough for two people standing sideways. But she had a box of Froot Loops and a coffeemaker in there, and she went right to work on her breakfast of champions.

She had a spoonful of cereal halfway to her mouth when her kitchen-mate walked in. She’d been told when she moved in that she’d be sharing with someone, and she hadn’t given it much thought. She’d had roommates before. No biggie.

That is, until she looked up. Milk dribbled from her spoon to her bowl as her half-naked marine esthetician stumbled toward the coffee.

2

CAPT. JASON WHITE WAS FACED with a no-win situation. He could turn tail and run, never a good option in his opinion. Or he could go for the coffee and face the subject of his weirdest erotic dream.

He had never wanted to be one of those metro guys who dressed fashionably and talked manicures. So why the hell had he dreamed he was giving a facial to his kitchen-mate? Not that it had been a bad thing. Turns out the chestnut-haired schoolteacher had bombshell breasts and he had gotten off on doing wonderful things with them. So had she, apparently, but he felt a little cheated that his own wet dream had stopped before the glorious finish. At least from his perspective. He didn’t mind being gentlemanly in real life. In fact, he insisted on it. But in the privacy of his own nighttime fantasies, he wanted his fair share.

But now he was standing right in front of the object of his most lustful fantasy. And worse, she was wearing a sundress that hinted at the glory of her breasts but didn’t actually confirm anything. And damn it, he wanted to know if what he’d dreamed was anything like the reality.

“Uh, good morning,” she said over her bowl of cereal as she hastily stepped back to give him room. Given the galley kitchenette, there really wasn’t anywhere for her to go, and she backed straight into the refrigerator. Her face was flushed, probably from her shower. And the towel that wrapped her hair started to tilt as it bumped the freezer handle. “Oh!” she gasped as she reached up to grab the towel. But in her hand she had a full bowl of Froot Loops, which was beginning to slosh.

He reacted on instinct. He grabbed her bowl, keeping it from spilling, but also wrapping his hand around one of hers. She had lovely hands, the fingers long and elegant but with blunt, unpolished nails that didn’t stab him. Her free hand went up to brace the towel, but it was too late. The thing came undone and her wet hair tumbled down.

Again, he just reacted. He caught the towel with his other hand, and then they were standing there, both of them with one hand on a bowl of cereal and the other on a wet towel. And all he could think was that she was close enough to kiss.

He watched her gaze dip to his chest and back up, and he knew she was thinking the same thing. He wasn’t vain or anything, but some things were obvious. He was just wearing a pair of shorts and after being blown sky-high in the Philippines, he’d lost a stone in weight. That left him thinner and weaker, but also gave him muscle definition like never before. In fact, his sister had asked if he could pose for her Men of the Military calendar. He’d declined that offer, but he wasn’t about to say no to his living erotic dream.

Too bad the woman wasn’t asking. She was just thinking, and as a gentleman and an officer, he just couldn’t make the first move. Not to a near stranger. So he opted for a simple “Good morning.”

“Sorry,” she muttered, trying to shy backward even farther though there was nowhere to go. “I’m such a klutz. Especially in the morning.”

“You weren’t being klutzy. It was the towel’s fault.” And so saying, he lifted the bowl from her hand to set on the counter. She went for the towel and pushed the wet hair out of her eyes.

“Dumb towels! Always getting in the way.”

“They’re a menace,” he said, nodding gravely though his lips were twitching. She made him want to smile, and given his past month, that was beyond incredible. Sadly, the humor faded as they both just stood there staring. She had beautiful eyes. Rich, brown and large, but there were crinkles on either side of them that told him she smiled a lot.

Lust slammed through him hard. From the moment his friend had given him the details on his new kitchen-mate, he’d known he was in trouble. He’d learned she was a hot, single kindergarten teacher, and since he’d always had a wholesome-girl fantasy, a sexy dream was the next logical step. He got off on the girl next door with the easy laugh. Given his rough childhood, he hadn’t known many girls who fit that profile. And here she was, standing before him like a Christmas present, waiting to be opened by him. Or so his libido believed.

Meanwhile, her blush was growing deeper, painting the skin of her chest a rosy hue. “Um, I’m sorry if I woke you,” she said. “I’m Christy Baker. I’m here for a few months to help with summer tutoring.”

“Yeah, I know. I saw you when you moved in and my buddy in housing mentioned it to me.” He didn’t mention that his buddy Mac had probably handpicked Miss Baker as his kitchen-mate for a not so ethical reason. Mac thought Jason desperately needed to get laid. Given his reaction to her, he couldn’t really argue. Jason held out his hand. “I’m Jason White. I’m here to … I’m here for a while. Hopefully not long.”

He was here on indefinite medical leave while the docs tried to get him to remember his last mission. There was something really important right there at the edge of his very messed up memory that he knew he had to get to. But it remained a stubborn blank wall. So he remained here.

“Um,” she said again, her blush reheating. “I’ve really got to get to school. Got a new student …”

It took him a second to realize she wanted out of the kitchenette. Well, of course she did. He probably looked really scary, some scarred-up stranger staring at her. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Right. Sorry.” He backed out of the tiny galley. “Can’t think right now.”

“Go ahead and take the rest of the coffee. I always make too much.”

“No such thing,” he said automatically. But that wasn’t the reason for his confusion. No, it was because all his blood was down south of his brain.

He backed up far enough that she didn’t have to touch him as she scooted out of the galley. But it wasn’t far enough to keep his lust in check. He got a full view of her profile, and damn, yes, there were those bombshell breasts bound in some iron-tight women’s bra. But what hit him just as hard was her scent. Clean and sweet. Some herbal shampoo and fresh water. No perfumes, no sweat, just clean, sweet woman. It was all he could do to stand there and not drag her into his caveman home.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. She was ducking into her room and quietly shutting the door before he lost control of his inner Neanderthal. Sadly, it didn’t help much. The flimsy door and the equally frail lock would be no match for him if he ever descended into real caveman mode.

The problem was that Miss Bombshell Schoolteacher was not a summer fling kind of girl. She was the marrying kind, and that made her strictly off-limits. He didn’t miss the irony that all those things that made her off-limits were the exact reasons he wanted her so badly. Completely aside from his girl-next-door fantasy, he’d just turned thirty last month. That was old enough to stop wanting to run around swamps looking for bad guys and start thinking about living stateside with a wife and kids.

But whereas Miss Christy would make a great wife and mother, he would make a lousy husband and father. Not with this hole in his memory and the nagging feeling that lives were at stake because he couldn’t get his brain to work right. His unit was still out in the Philippines, risking their lives looking for the chemical weapons factory that intel said was somewhere out there. And he knew he had the answer locked somewhere in the recesses of his memory.

Or at least he thought he knew it. Or he hoped he did.

He reached blindly across the kitchen for his mug of coffee.

He wasn’t a whole man. And only a cruel bastard got involved with a woman like Christy when he couldn’t move forward with his life. Not until he resolved this damn dilemma.

Problem was, his dick didn’t like thinking about “fair” or “forever.” His dick only wanted what it wanted.

Lord, he had better remember what he’d forgotten soon. Otherwise, his next-door schoolteacher was in for one hell of a summer.

OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD! Christy thought the words over and over as she left the kitchen to relive her mortification in private.

He was so hot! Ripped body, gorgeous tan and blue eyes. He had blue eyes! What angel had smiled on her to give her such an awesome kitchen-mate? No wonder she’d been dreaming about him. She’d probably seen him coming or going sometime yesterday and had constructed a fantasy. Who wouldn’t?

Oh, my God, was she still drooling?

And why was it the first time they’d met, she’d had her hair wrapped in a towel and was slurping Froot Loops. God, she had the worst luck ever. She took a deep breath and tried not to feel completely stupid over their encounter. But instead of reliving her humiliation, her mind went straight to that moment. It was the one where he’d been close enough to kiss.

He’d just taken the cereal from her suddenly weak wrists and she’d pulled the towel out of the way. And they’d just stood there looking at each other. She hadn’t thought about the wet strands of hair plastered against her cheek or that she probably had milk on her chin. She just had the strongest desire to kiss him. It would have been so easy! And he’d been right there.