It’s a funny thing; the way clothes can change a person. Connor was a man out of time, bigger than life, and he was quickly becoming more than just a fantasy. Now, she was starting to see him in her day to day. He was there, filling doorways, towering over crowds, sharp eyes focused on her unerringly…
Damn did he look good too; dark shirt stretched taut over his arms and chest, long hair in it’s natural state, braided and falling to one side when he was at rest.
But damn it all; it wasn’t in her waking moments that he caused her the most distraction- no. It was when she slept. When her nose caught the faint, ghostly scent of petrichor in the damp air of the woods that her mind concocted, when she ran breathlessly, in flight like prey… when a large body leaped and swung in pursuit and her small feet danced over every obstacle with ease… when Parkour became a strange, heady kind of foreplay before the capture.
The dreams were deep, and so vivid they were almost real. The roll of thunder above vibrating like the growl in his chest, the flash of lightning illuminating like the blue glow of his eyes in this feral state… the heat of his body pressing against hers as she wrapped around him. Accepting him.
Prey given to predator freely. Her heart pounding and blood boiling beneath the surface.
Fantasy. Dream. Desire… He was all of those things.
But she was one thing.
She was His.
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