Dreaming Of You

1

THIS HAD GOT to be a dream.

Because there was no way in hell Declan 'The Bull' Rinaldo was standing in front of me in nothing but low-slung jeans and white fluffy towel draped over his broad muscular shoulder.

"What the fuck?"

I jumped and almost fell on my ass as I gaped at the man in front of me. Because dear Lord, he was real. He was talking!

Declan-tall, strong, magnetic, and looking more like a god than a mere mortal Declan–was really standing in front of me in the doorway of this small log cabin.

Did I mention he was half naked?

"I...uhm...I, uh..."

Sweet baby Jesus. My brain's officially broken.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Declan barked, making me jerk and almost slip on the wet wooden porch at the sound of his low gravelly voice.

"I–I...I need help," I croaked out, clutching the hem of my wet shirt as I stared wide eyed at Declan Rinaldo.

Declan 'The Bull' Rinaldo.

Heavy weight boxing champion, the current face of various sports and luxury brands all over the world... and the star of wet dreams of every human species capable of being attracted to a guy from ages thirteen to infinity.

That included yours truly.

Which explained why I had hypothesized that this was a wet dream.

My wet dream.

Or a cruel embarrassing prank. Probably orchestrated by my best friend Arthur.

"I–I'm lost," I stammered, wishing to heavens my heart would stop hammering so embarrassingly fast.

Of all the people in this small slice of San Isidro, Alaminos, bakit kailangang si Declan ang matagpuan ko rito sa maliit na cabin sa kakahuyan?

Wasn't he supposed to be in some high-rise apartment in New York? Or maybe partying with some supermodel in LA? Like that gorgeous Brazilian model I saw on the news with him a week ago?

And why oh, why did he have to stand in front of me half-naked?

I'd be the first to validate how ripped Declan was from all his videos and photos I'd devoured online.

But dear God, he was ripped.

Seeing him in person up close was a totally different ballgame.

His powerful frame blocked the doorway, the light from the cabin silhouetting the chiseled angles and planes of his face and body, the shadows further sharpening the heavy ridges of muscles on his chest, abdomen, and brawny arms.

Did I sound creepy? I apologized. Truly.

I had a crush on this guy since two years ago when I turned 17.

He had defined muscles everywhere. Even the line of his neck and feet looked strong. His washed-out jeans hung low around his hips, revealing the deep v of his abdominal muscles. And those sharp ridges were just hypnotic. It was singing out to me to run my fingers over it and trace the deep lines down to his...

I snapped my gaze back to Declan's face and internally screamed when I saw his eyes narrow as if he just read my dirty, dirty thoughts.

"Get inside before you freeze your fucking ass off." He turned on his heel and strode inside the cabin.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

He saw me eye-fucking him, didn't he?

Oh, God.