**Author's Note: Technically, I would classify my story as Historical Romance. Be forewarned: More suggestive/sexual language (PG13? Lol), so if that's not your cup of tea you can skip this chapter. Otherwise, carry on! :D**
^^^
Charlie wasn't fully awake.
She was floating. Her limbs were weightless, her body cushioned not on a lumpy cot, but cocooned in feather down.
The door creaked disturbing her restless slumber as she waited, breath bated, as a presence slunk into the room.
Was it her uncle? She wondered. Had he found her after all?
But, in the next moment, Charlie knew it wasn't. The presence was warm. Her body hummed, and her eyes opened. They were heavy, weights that kept her murmuring sleepily. Her limbs burned and relaxed at the same time. Danger and excitement rolled into a luscious bundle that she wanted to unwrap. Beribboned and tied.
The shadow moved.
Slowly, its steps mere soft thuds as it slipped over to her prone body. It watched in silence. The air around Charlie stirred and she shifted restlessly, her legs scraping against the wool of her blanket.
It was a man, large and silent, blocking whatever light had been bold enough to touch her.
His scrutiny left no part of her body undiscovered. He didn't miss her body's urgings and the man released a groan, harsh and grating above her.
Charlie wished all dreams could leave her so...
Desperate.
She inhaled, the man's fragrance - spice and musk and woodsmoke - making her feel pliable and soft. Her arms lifted to him - an entreaty for him to not leave her wanting.
The mattress dipped and her body rolled into him. He was a warm obstacle she found herself burying into. Her heavy lidded eyes peered open, gray eyes burning through her.
Slowly, as if unsure of his acceptance, her Greyson's hand came up to cup her cheek.
Charlie shuddered, the callused skin of his thumb scraping along her cheekbone, snagging on her skin as if the very thought that he would release his touch was inconceivable.
His body was its own furnace and she shifted closer, uncaring if sweat dripped down her spine or if, in fact, he was nothing more than an inferno come to rake her body over the coals.
She didn't care.
His shadowy bulk hovered over her as his other hand traced down the curve of her shoulder, following the lines of her body. His touch passed so closely to her breast that she sighed - in relief and in disappointment - that it hadn't traveled a bit further, testing the weight within his large hands.
A soft breath puffed on her temple as his lips pressed lightly to the sensitive skin there. She shivered, her eyes drifted upwards as he pulled back. All the while, his hand continued down her arm, twisting with her fingers before settling on her hip and squeezing.
She gasped, her lips opening.
It was the invitation her dream earl had been waiting for. He pushed on the indent in her chin and her lips parted voluntarily.
In a trance, Charlie watched Greyson's head lower. A strand of his brown hair, appearing inky black in the low light, fell over his forehead and onto his brow. It covered one stormy eye, the moonlight behind him casting him in a murky shadow that had blood pulsing to her core.
The pressure of his lips settled firmly onto hers.
A butterfly touch, their lips releasing the others slowly.
He glanced at her eyes, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and she followed the action greedily, before she moaned, grasping him about his neck and meeting him halfway. The needs of her body took over and she grasped his silky strands in her fist - unsure if she meant to pull him away or push him ever closer.
A deep rumble threaded through his chest and Charlie found her arms above her head. His hands traced from her upper arms to her forearms, his hands interlacing with hers. He put his weight on them, pushing her deeper into the mattress.
The wind picked up outside. A board clattered and the howl of leaves rippled as they were tossed about.
Charlie sighed into the kiss, clasping his hands tightly.
Greyson released one of her hands only to clasp it firmly with her other wrist so his free hand could explore.
Charlie was burning from the inside, her shirt sticking to her skin, chafing.
She wanted it off.
Casting off the blanket, she managed only to twist further into the wooly prison. Greyson murmured, gently softening her as he let up his grip, leaning back and tossing the blanket to the ground. And then he was back, his hand tilting her chin so he could get the right angle, deepening the kiss until her chest ached with the need to breathe.
Damnation, but who needed to breathe?
It was all motion. Frantic kisses and deep sighs. He was stealing her breath, taking her very life within his own person and passing it back, weaving their essence.
He growled, an incomprehensible sound on his lips, before Greyson's tongue swept in, boldly stroking. It demanded she answer in return.
Finding dream Charlie had much more bravery - could hardly recall the reason she was there or what she was doing - answered back. She met his tongue with hers and he moaned. It sent a spiral of pleasure and power soaring in her.
She was the one who had the earl reacting so.
She wasn't Charlie or Charlotte. Merely a woman, willing and wanting.
His hand dived to where her shirt ended and her bare thigh was - now revealed after the blanket was tossed aside. Charlie remembered taking off the itchy fabric of her breeches, leaving nothing more than skin.
The dream had been remarkably astute, Charlie thought. And then she wasn't capable of any further thinking.
Cool air pricked her skin, a contrast against his big hand warming her. His fingers spread across her thigh and began kneading softly.
Her lips moved of their own accord and she couldn't stop her whisper even had she wanted to.
"Greyson."
It released the earl from whatever restraint he still held onto. Even in Charlie's dreams, Greyson held himself back, wanting nothing more than to look after her.
Greyson positioned himself over her body and his hips thrust against hers.
It all felt so real, she thought, a spark of boldness running through her as she stroked his chest, the crips hairs there tickling her fingers. She pressed against his nipple and he shuddered above her.
So real...
Charlie gave up his lips as she stilled.
Her chest heaved and her eyes widened feeling him hard against her thigh. She couldn't make out the earl's eyes, but she knew deep in her bones - in the trembling of her limbs and in the sensitive curves of her lips - that it was he. In the flesh.
Greyson seemed to break from whatever state he had been in as well. With a push, the earl was off her and across the room. He eyed her, running a hand through his hair as he breathed heavily.
"Shite."
He made to approach her before he halted, his eyes falling onto her bare thighs.
Charlie startled, making a dive for the blanket. She settled it over her legs before sweeping her arms around her knees and pressing her chin atop them.
"By God."
Not knowing what to say, Charlie watched him, doing her best to ignore the dampness between her legs and the soreness of her lips. She blushed, realizing she had, in fact, drawn the earl into her, practically pulled him atop her. Welcoming his kiss. Delighting in the brash way he touched her.
Mortified and stunned, Charlie brought a hand to her lips, the back of her hand covering them. They throbbed as if wanting nothing more than to let him suckle them at his leisure.
Her nipples tightened dreadfully.
She squirmed, and the earl's panic seemed to finally dim as he took note of the heightened color of her face, the way she studied him.
"I beg your pardon."
Without an explanation, Greyson turned and was gone, his body disappearing like a ghost as she remained huddled in the middle of the bed.
The mortification and embarrassment drained from her at once and a new thought took its place.
Was it her he had kissed?
Or was it Charlie?