She wrapped her arms around his neck as he kissed her again, this kiss speaking clearly of domination, of ownership. It was both a possession and a promise, and Tessa opened her mouth eagerly to him, surrendering both her body and her will to his sensual, masterful touch.

In the dark Ian undressed with slow, careful deliberation, and even though he remained largely in shadow she still gasped as he removed each article of clothing, baring another part of his magnificent body to her hungry gaze. When he was nude he came to her, taking her into his arms and rolling her beneath him. She almost recoiled at the look on his face, at the possessive, hungry expression in his eyes as he held her gaze captive.

“You and I are meant for each other, Tessa,” he whispered almost harshly. “No other woman but you will ever do. And when I finally claim you for my own, there will never be another man for you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she cried out, trying to pull him closer against her, silently inviting him to take possession of her body. “From the first time I saw you no other man existed for me.”

Ian smiled with satisfaction as he began to lower his sinfully handsome mouth towards her. “You’re mine, Tessa. And one day I’ll be able to claim what’s rightfully mine.”

The bedcovers were a tangled mess when she woke, sheets and blankets twisted hopelessly around her legs and hips. It was still dark outside, and Tessa reluctantly opened one eye to gaze at her little bedside clock. She was relieved to notice it was barely three a.m., still a few hours before she had to get up for the day, and she wasn’t all that surprised to realize Peter’s side of the bed hadn’t been slept in as yet.

But what did surprise her was the discovery that her entire body was covered with a fine mist of sweat, something that hadn’t been caused by the comfortable temperature of the room. Her little cotton nightgown was also soaked with perspiration, and she grimaced as she slid out of bed and quickly pulled the garment over her head. She knew instinctively that she’d been having another of those eerily realistic erotic dreams, the ones she could never quite remember specific details about, but where a lingering sense of his presence always existed.

And then, as she hastily washed up and pulled on the clean nightgown, she gasped again as a fleeting image from her dream taunted her – the stunningly handsome face of her until now unseen dream lover. She was horrified beyond description to realize that his face was that of Ian Gregson, one of the owners of the company she worked for, and whose photo she’d been practically salivating over a few days ago.

She’d never been one to indulge in schoolgirl crushes on movie stars or musicians, largely because she’d rarely had the opportunity to experience any sort of normal adolescent or teenage behaviors. Her life had been too chaotic, too difficult, to allow for such little indulgences. Instead of poring over celebrity magazines or listening to music, she had been balancing the checkbook or doing the laundry or worrying about her mother’s latest bout of depression. Tessa had always been practical, realistic, and had rarely allowed herself to fantasize about things that could never be.

As she straightened the rumpled sheets before sliding back into bed, Tessa was grateful that Peter hadn’t been in the room during this latest episode of hers. Not that he would blame her in any way for dreaming about another man, but she still couldn’t help feeling guilty over these increasingly detailed dreams. Despite their dysfunctional sexual relationship, and Peter’s repeated urges for her to find satisfaction elsewhere, Tessa knew she would never be able to betray her marriage vows. Even if it was with a man as sexually compelling and heart-stoppingly handsome as Ian Gregson.

Chapter Eight

San Francisco

Ian glanced up from the report he’d been pouring over as his cell phone buzzed with an incoming call. And since it was his personal phone – the one a scant handful of people in the entire world had the number for – he knew it would be a family member calling. He grimaced, though, when he saw on the caller ID that it was his younger – and highly irritating – brother Colin on the other end.

“What is it?” asked Ian, not even attempting to hide his annoyance. He had far too much work to get through this morning to listen to another recap of Colin’s most recent date. He’d truly believed he had left all of that behind when he had moved out here to California almost a year ago, confident that no longer sharing a residence with his younger brother meant that the stories of Colin’s frequent and wild hook-ups would remain solidly in London. Thus far he’d been proven wrong on a regular basis.

Colin’s chuckle only served to annoy Ian further. “What’s wrong, old man? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed again? I’m just assuming – as usual – that you woke up alone. And that’s the crux of your problem, Ian. You aren’t getting laid anywhere near enough for a bloke your age. If you were, you’d be in a much better mood.”

“Like yourself, I suppose?” muttered Ian darkly, wondering how much of a ruckus it would cause in the family if he decided to block Colin’s number from his phone.

“I’m always in a good mood. Largely because I’m always getting laid. Wait until you hear about the redhead I met last night. Bit of a crazy bint if I’m being frank, but the things that girl could do with her tongue were unreal. Licked me up like my dick was covered in melted chocolate and she couldn’t bear to waste even a drop. And that was just for starters. We wound up - “

“Enough.” Ian’s retort was sharper than he intended it to be. “I don’t need to hear any more details, Colin. Trust me, I’ve heard enough about your exploits for three lifetimes. And I’ve got about three days worth of work here on my desk at the moment, so why don’t you tell me the real reason for your call?”

“My bet is on six months – at least – since you’ve had any,” declared Colin brashly. “Better be careful that stick you’ve got wedged up your arse doesn’t break off one of these days, brother. You know, Ian, you’re only thirty-five, not seventy, so stop acting like a creaky old bachelor uncle.”

“I am an old bachelor uncle,” Ian replied dryly. “And likely to remain so for the foreseeable future. I made the mistake of getting engaged once, and unlike you I actually learn from my mistakes.”

“And that’s one of the reasons for my call. I ran into your former fiancée this afternoon at the Dorchester. I was finishing up a business lunch when the lovely Davina arrived with her new man in tow. Not to mention her new engagement ring.”