...Ten years of regular game sessions, and Angie somehow still managed to reduce him to a quivering mass of teenage hormones. Perhaps it was because he’d lusted after her throughout his high school years with all the force of teenage angst, or maybe because she was his best friend’s sister. Whatever the reason, she’d remained untouchable, a symbol of sexy forbidden fruit he could never taste.

Of course, it didn’t help that she showed up to their game sessions in purple mini-skirts and matching silky tops that showed off her lithe body to perfection.

After all the relationships he’d had, Scott considered himself fairly adept when it came to the opposite sex. But Angie defied everything he thought he knew about women. With her successful career as a web designer, her love for Dungeons and Dragons, and her ability to turn game night into an intensely sexual experience, she’d transcended reality. At some point over the years, Angie had transformed from a living, breathing person into a walking wet dream.

“Hey handsome…” The elf’s eyes darkened, smoldering as she teased. “Is that a scimitar strapped to your belt or are you just happy to see me?”

Before he could catch himself, Scott laughed. The drumbeats drowned out the sound, but the tension left his shoulders and he gave in to the absurdity of the situation in which he found himself.

“Do you want to find out?” he asked, hardly recognizing the husky, seductive voice as his own.

The sight of her electrifying grin made his cock bolt upright, a thrill suddenly zinging through his veins.

“If you don’t take off all that chain mail soon,” she warned, “I’ll do it myself. On second thought, why wait? I’ll do it myself anyway.”

To prove she wasn’t all talk, she wiggled her fingertips again and uttered something Scott couldn’t understand. A gust of wind erupted around him, jangling the chain loops and yanking up on his tunic.

“What the—”

Before he could finish that sentence, the current had forced him upright, onto his knees. The wind gathered strength, shaped itself into a vortex and slid beneath his tunic. Leather and chain mail lifted from his body, heaved upward and flew over his head. The whole mess landed with a clang on top of the boulder.

Scott’s jaw hung open. He gaped down at his stomach. A thin pinkish line blossomed across his skin where the edge of the chain mail tunic scraped across his flesh in its rush to flee his body.

He touched the slightly raised indentation, grimacing when a trickle of pain accompanied his prodding fingers. Sure, magic was possible in dreams, he supposed, but this all still felt so real. So…impossible.

The elf narrowed her eyes. “You’ll live, warrior. You’ve endured much worse.”

He started to shake his head, but stopped when she grinned, looking so much like Angie it made his heart clench.

Recognition struck so quickly it nearly made him stagger. “Gwynnyth,” he murmured, cupping her cheek.

She bobbed her head up and down, her silky skin sliding against his palm.

It was all the acknowledgement he needed, the missing piece of the puzzle in this surreal illusion. Fuck, he felt like Alice must have after she’d tumbled down the rabbit hole. Only if this was Wonderland, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to tunnel his way back to reality.

But if this was in fact his fantasy, that meant he could do whatever he wanted. He could have Gwynnyth, and through her, Angie. And he could do it without worrying what she might think of him in the morning or missing sleep over the possibility of losing his best friend if things didn’t work out between him and Angie.