5
Ambrose was lost in a dream of kissing Alex in a garden. The wisteria bloomed on overhanging trellises above them, and she lay beneath him on a blanket, her cheeks flush with arousal and her lips parted. Those dreamy blue eyes, like the petals of cornflowers, drew him deeper and deeper into her. Their lips met languidly, each kiss wet, soft, and impossibly hot. How long had it been since he’d reveled in a single kiss without anything more?
Too long…since he’d been a lad stealing kisses from an upstairs maid when he was seventeen. Back then, kisses had been the height of his erotic knowledge and the best thing in the world.
“Would you ruin me, Ambrose? Break my heart?” the dream Alex murmured, her fingertips tracing his jaw as he gazed down at her. Around them the scents of the earth,
