Burn

She wanders through the clothing store, the high ceiling and unseen walls lending an infinite feeling to the building.
"He's waiting for you," they tell her. She stares in surprise at the women browsing through Gucci and Prada. Surely they can't mean it.
"Back there." The motion with their manicured hands to the back of the store, her eyes barely making out the sign of a restaurant in the far distance.
She turns to ask how they know but suddenly the store has disappeared from view and she is standing in the front of his workplace, the smell of smoke and alcohol strong on the wafting air. In trepidation, knots clenching her stomach, she pushes against the giant wooden door and enters.
It is dark inside, and although she hears the murmur of voices, there is not a soul present. She makes her way to the bar, the shiny oak surface gleaming in the dim light, hoping that someone will appear soon to alleviate her anxious nerves.
And then there he is, the dark edges of his hair curling around his angular cheeks. She longs to reach out and sweep the stray raven lock from his eyes, chartreuse embers lit from within. His fingers graze her cheek as she leans into his palm, his hand warm against her winter-white skin. She waits for him to speak.

"Listen, I..." his voice trails away. She knows what he is going to say and still she waits.
"I love you, so much." She hears the passion in his voice, the ache of words long repressed.
And suddenly the darkness is shattered with bright light, colors shooting through her veins as his lips find hers, as his fingers grip her waist, pressing her body hard against the rippling muscle beneath his cotton shirt.
He carries her as if she is weightless, his mouth never leaving her delicious grasp. He roughly sets her on the counter, his long arm clearing the dishes with one sweep, his hands on her knees as he yanks her hips to the edge. She feels his hardness at her tingling place and moans, her skin screaming against the fabric of her jeans, begging to be free, sobbing to touch him without barriers. He is moving again and she gasps in pleasant pain as she is half-thrown against the wall of the back room, the heat in his tiger's gaze enough to set fire to her soul.
She craves the burn.

And then...sadly, I woke up.