Claire Ellis begins to experience strange wet dreams, with an unknown man who will show her that life is wider than what she knew.
Being an editorial assistant has never been so incredible.
The book fair is approaching, and her best and only option...
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I didn't feel when he left the house, however, I did feel when he got up from my side and stroked my hair tenderly. He apologized for marking my shoulder, I continued to maintain my façade of sleeping peacefully. His hand caressed the mark that I hadn't felt until he mentioned it, I wanted to push his hand away abruptly, but the swirl inside me wasn't Derek's fault, but mine. And I still didn't know why.
I looked at the clock with annoyance, I would have loved to spend the whole morning rolled up in my bed, covered by my soft blankets that kept me warm. But duty was calling and I didn't want to have Carl on my shoulders, pressing me over and over again on the book that, I was almost 100% sure, we would be presenting at the book fair this year.
The alarm sounded at 9 in the morning again, against all supernatural force, I managed to stretch and jump into the shower, without giving the necessary preambles to go back to sleep. I looked at the mark on my shoulder and brushed it with my fingers, confused not to remember that Derek had bitten me there, but "Morpheus", however, I denied with disappointment when I realized the nonsense that was navigating in my mind.
I made myself a strong coffee, sent Carl an email, demanding that he send me the manuscript as soon as possible. It didn't take long for him to do so, but Carl didn't, Erwin Oz himself had sent an encrypted email, I rolled my eyes at his obsessive caution, I would be his editor, he could at least stop being so neurotic.
He wasn't the first writer to do that, much less the last, but I had always hated writers who were suspicious of their works.
Key: Morpheus. My eyes widened in surprise. His key made me remember, automatically, my dreamlike encounter with the mysterious man I had baptized as "Morpheus", I smiled, shaking my head when I realized that, pretending not to think about it, did not mean that I did not have him tattooed everywhere.
I decrypted the mail and downloaded the manuscript. I had the cover ready. Striking, attractive.
The bare back of a woman, sitting on a wide bed, a portrait of Romeo and Juliet in front of her, the lower part of her torso covered by sheets that hid her privacy, her dark hair that fell over her back in a suggestive, daring way, letting you know that she needed company, eager to explore her body.
I felt a strange connection because of that dark, intimate cover, complex in its simplicity. My hairs accompanied me in my feelings, standing on end when I brushed my fingers against the monitor of my laptop, sliding down the slender figure of that naked back that, although strong, seemed fragile.
Dream.
It was the title. Quite striking, in golden letters that contrasted with the dark background of the image.
My heart pounded fast, suddenly eager to read it.
Following my instincts, I walked to the couch with my extra-large cup of coffee, asked Alexa for some relaxing music, settled between the blankets in the living room and with my Tablet open, I also downloaded the book there. I would devour it in a jiffy, something told me.
