Deception by B. C. Burgess Page B

sexy,” he praised, pulling her closer.
    She crossed her arms on his chest and propped her chin on them. “You’re sexy.”
    He laughed as he brushed her hair back and took her cheeks. “I bet that’s the first time those words have ever left your mouth.”
    “Did it sound stupid?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
    “No,” he assured. “It sounded like beautiful music.”
    He drifted a finger down her spine, and she shivered while watching his eyes. Their espresso depths were very expressive, sometimes conveying more than his mouth, but they didn’t tell her everything she wanted to know.
    “There’s something I want to ask you,” she said, taking an unexpected plunge.
    “Shoot,” he offered.
    Now that she’d jumped, she feared delving deeper, so it took her several nervous seconds to go on. “Why haven't you told me about your dreams?”
    “What do you mean? You've never asked.”
    “Not your average dreams,” she clarified, but then she paused, afraid to say more. She didn't understand why he hadn't told her and worried he didn't want her to know.
    “What are you asking, Layla? And why are you so worried about asking it?”
    “I don't want to upset you.”
    “That’s highly unlikely, so out with it.”
    She kissed his heart then looked back up, but she didn’t explain herself.
    “Come on, love,” he coaxed. “You're making me worry. What is it you want to know?”
    She slid a fingernail from his pecs to his throat. Then she took his cheek, dipping her thumb into a shallow dimple. “Why haven't you told me you have recurring dreams about me?”
    His eyebrows shot up then furrowed. “Where did you hear that?”
    “From the same person who told me about you dating Caitlyn. Is it true?”
    “I’d really like to know who told you these things. Was it someone in the coven?”
    “No.”
    “I'm not looking for revenge, Layla. I just want to know whose stories you're hearing.”
    She sighed then caved. “A witch named Maeveen. So is it true?”
    “Maeveen, huh. She is a nosy one, isn't she?”
    “I don't know. I don't know her, but she seems to know me.”
    “She doesn't know you, and she and I aren't close enough for her to broadcast my personal life to people.”
    “Why won't you answer me, Quin? What's going on?”
    He shifted her into the crook of his arm then rolled onto his side, sweeping her hair back while giving her a kiss. “Yes,” he finally confessed. “Ever since I can remember, which is a long time, I've had recurring dreams about you.”
    “Why haven't you told me about them?”
    “Because I don't want you to think they're the reason I care about you. I was afraid if you found out about them, you’d think the only reason I want you is to fulfill my dreams, or to see if the real woman compares to the dream woman.”
    “Do I?”
    “No. You're way better than my dream Layla. For one thing, she never had a face. She was just a beautiful blur of colors. For another, she didn't have a personality really, more like an emotional presence. And most importantly, I couldn’t touch her. She slipped through my fingers every time I tried.”
    “Why do you think you had the dreams?”
    “I don't know. I've been asking myself that for years. Maybe I had them because I'd heard the coven talk about you. But now that I know and love you, I like to think I was meant to find you at Cinnia's cafe, and the dreams were a way of keeping you fresh in my mind until then.”
    “Did I talk in the dreams?”
    “Sometimes.”
    “Did I sound like me?”
    “Yes. When I was young, so were you, but the adult dream Layla sounded like you do when you're feeling confident.”
    “What kind of things did I say?”
    “You were my angel even then. If I was upset about something, you’d appear in my dreams and let me vent; if I was excited about something, you’d keep the celebration going all night. I could talk about anything and you’d listen, and you encouraged every decision I’ve ever made. The