“I never knew it could be like this.”

“Neither did I.”

In the dream, Georgie Ellis lay wrapped in warmth and the scent of aftershave and clean cotton. The pale hotel light seeped through the curtains, turning everything soft. Donald May’s body was solid beneath her cheek, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that soothed and excited her all at once.

She kissed his stubbled jaw, slow and lazy, then traced a finger down the centre of his chest, idly playing with the dark hair there.

“You were wonderful, Don,” she murmured. “I’ve wanted this for so long. So very long.”

“Was it worth the wait?” he asked, his voice low with amusement.

“Of course it was.” She shifted, propping herself on one elbow...

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