She Dreams of What Might Have Been.

As Lara drifted off to sleep that night, her mind still spun from the events in the kitchen. The warmth of the wine and the weight of the day **** her into a deep slumber, reality began to blur and dissolve into something else—something her waking self wouldn't have imagined.

In the dream, she was back in the kitchen. The soft glow of the lights, the quiet of the house, and the subtle hum of the refrigerator felt so real. She could taste the wine on her lips again, the sensation comforting and familiar. And there was Greg, standing before her, his gaze intense and unwavering, just as it had been earlier.

But this time, when Greg leaned in to kiss her, she didn't hesitate. She didn't pull away. Instead, she sunk into the kiss, her hands finding their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His lips were soft, tentative at first, but as she responded, they grew bolder, more confident.

There was no right or wrong here. Instead of morals, there was only overwhelming desire. A need that had simmered beneath the surface since Lara had stopped mourning her late husband.

She could feel the heat between her and Greg intensify as the kiss deepened. She felt his hands slide down her back. The young man pulled her against him. Every single touch sent sparks through her. She felt a fire start to kindle. Lara did not know if she could or wanted to control the inferno building in her.

She felt Greg's hands start to explore her. They slid beneath the hem of her shirt, and his fingertips sensually grazed her skin. She felt the same shivers of pleasure run down her spine that she had felt with Ben's father.

Lara moaned softly into Greg's mouth. She could not hold herself back. Every fiber of her body screamed at her to give in to the sensation. The world around them faded away. The house, the kitchen, everything was gone. It was just the two of them in an intimate bubble of warmth and desire.

With a gentle push, Greg guided her downward, lifting her onto it effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, their bodies pressed together in a way that made her head spin.

Her new lover's hands roamed freely now. They sought to memorize every inch of her. Lara reveled in the way her body reacted to Greg. He was the first man in four years to make her feel desired, cherished, and alive simultaneously.

Their clothes began to disintegrate, no longer needed in the heat of the moment; Lara's mind barely registered anything beyond the feel of Greg's skin against hers, the taste of his lips, the urgency in his touch. She lost herself in the moment, her body responding to his with a hunger she hadn't known she possessed.

Greg's hands gripped her hips, pulling her to him as their bodies aligned perfectly. He paused, looking into her eyes and seeking permission. All she could do was nod, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in anticipation.

Time and space ended when the lovers finally came together. Every nerve in Lara's body felt electrified. She clung to Ben's best friend, a man she had known all his life. Their movements, a dance of passion and need, nourished her soul. The intensity of the moment overwhelmed her senses. Her **** self did what her waking mind could not do: surrender entirely to the pleasure, letting it wash over her in waves, building higher and higher until there was nothing but the two of them, lost in each other.

In the dream, there was no guilt, no second-guessing. There was only the blissful union of two people utterly consumed by their desire for one another.

The dream hurtled toward its inevitable conclusion. Intense pleasure the likes Lara had not felt in over a decade caused her to cry out in ecstasy. Then reality began to creep back in. The dream started to unravel, and Lara felt herself being pulled away from the warmth of Greg's embrace; the house returned, and her young lover was gone, and with him, the sensations dimmed until all that was left was a cold, empty space.

Lara jolted awake, her heart racing, her body still tingling from the intensity of the dream. She sat up in bed, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the remnants of what her imaginary self had done clung to her like a shadow. It had felt so real, so vivid, that for a moment, she expected to see Greg sleeping beside her.

"Just a dream," Lara said as she pressed a hand to her forehead. She could feel her heart beating loudly against her chest. She slowed her breathing, trying to calm herself, but the lingering heat from the fantasy made it impossible to forget. Guilt gnawed at her, a bitter taste in her mouth as she realized just how much she had wanted it—how much she still wanted it.

"Just a dream," she began to repeat over and over without much conviction.

As she lay back down, pulling the covers up to her chin, she couldn't shake the feeling that some part of her wished it had been more.