Aveline could have relaxed in the arms of this dream-version of Theron, because the Theron of her dreams was hers. Hers alone.
She slowly slid her arms around his neck and leaned in, smiling to herself as if she had all the time in the world. Even in a dream, he felt warm, solid, and familiar… just the same. And his scent, that deep fragrance of fine wood and something unmistakably his, wrapped around her like a secret she had never stopped wanting to keep.
Why would she need the real Theron, when she had this one?
"My Theron…" she murmured, her heart fluttering as she pressed her lips to his.
His mouth was just as soft as she remembered.
