Clementine, a social media manager with fiery red hair and emerald green eyes, was a contradiction. Shy in person, her mind buzzed with fascinating trivia just waiting for the right listener.
Sebastian Montgomery as the tabloids dubbed him, was an...
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Clementine stirred in her sleep, her breath hitching as her subconscious painted a picture that was as vivid as it was disorienting. She stood in a softly lit room, its walls bathed in shadows, the air thick with tension. A familiar figure loomed before her, his presence commanding and magnetic.
Sebastian.
His dark blue eyes held hers, intense and unyielding, as his hands skimmed her sides, tracing the curve of her waist with deliberate slowness. The rough pads of his fingers left a trail of fire in their wake, her skin hypersensitive under his touch.
"You have no idea," his low, gravelly voice murmured, "how maddening you are."
Her breath caught as his mouth descended, brushing her collarbone with tantalising precision. She felt her knees weaken as he pressed her against a surface—she didn't care what it was—his scent enveloping her, a heady mix of expensive cologne and raw masculinity.
His lips moved lower, worshipping her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. Every sensation was heightened; the scrape of his stubble against her skin, the heat of his breath, the possessive grip of his hands. Her heart raced, and her fingers found their way to his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.
Her body was taut with need, trembling under the weight of the moment, and just as his hands began to slide lower—
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Clementine jolted awake, the shrill sound of her alarm clock slicing through the haze of her dream. She sat up abruptly, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her chest heaving as she tried to ground herself in reality.
"Oh my God," she whispered, pressing her palms to her flushed cheeks. The remnants of the dream clung to her like cobwebs, her body still humming with arousal.
She groaned, flopping back onto the mattress. "This is not okay," she muttered, staring up at the expansive windows that framed the pale morning light. The stormy grey skies of London were a stark contrast to the heat that had just coursed through her veins.
After a few moments of steadying her breathing, she forced herself out of bed, her bare feet padding across the worn wooden floors of her studio apartment. It was small but charming, with vintage fixtures and massive windows that made the space feel open and airy. She loved the way the light poured in during the day, though now it did little to soothe her flustered state.
She shuffled to the tiny kitchen, still trying to shake off the dream as she reached for the kettle. The comforting ritual of making tea helped centre her, and soon the smell of Earl Grey filled the air.
As she waited for the kettle to boil, she leaned against the counter, staring out the window. The rooftops of London stretched out before her, a patchwork of chimneys and slate tiles. She'd been in the city for a few weeks now, and while she was beginning to feel at home, moments like these reminded her just how far she was from California.
