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 entryway.
A deep, hungry growl rumbled up from the man’s chest, vibrating softly against her breasts, making her nipples 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 hips 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.”