But he’s not ready to move past the conversation. “Two? Really?” Dak asks, sounding more concerned than surprised.
“It was nothing like with Sean,” I blurt out. “I…I only hung out with them for a while before they told me they were gay and considered me a good friend. And then they hooked up with each other,” I mumble.
“Oh. Good.” He blows out a relieved sigh.
“Hmm. Depends on your perspective, I suppose.”
Because it didn’t feel so good to me watching my besties—the pseudo Jamie Bower and Claude Monet—sucking face. “Wait, were you worried because you thought I was a loose woman with bad judgment or because you think I possess some kind of weird power to turn straight men gay?” I’m sucking in my lip to hold back a smile, though I wasn’t smiling a year ago when I was considering it a plausible possibility.
“What? No, of course not.”
“Of course not to which one?” I can’t resist teasing him.
“Of course not to both, Bambi.” He smirks. “I just didn’t want to think of you having to go through that kind of heartbreak more than once.”
Boom. There go my ovaries again.
“Trust me, Bambi, the power you hold over me is the complete opposite of turning me gay. When I’m around you, I’m about as heterosexual as a man could ever be.”
I hold a power over him?
This foreplay of words we keep exchanging has my body temperature rising. My disloyal, needy body squirms in anticipation on our fluffy bed. Thank goodness he’s decided not to make another move on me, because I wouldn’t be able to say no when every one of my cells is saying yes, yes, yes.
“I’m pretty beat and I know you are too. How about we get some sleep so we can get out of here early if the weather lets up in the morning?”
Right. The morning. Even though I’m relieved he’s not making this any harder for me than it already is, I’m kind of sad at the thought of our mini version of Cast Away ending in the morning.
“Okay,” I answer, trying not to sound disappointed. I don’t even know what I’m disappointed about. I already decided I don’t want to be another one of his fuck buddies, but these feelings I’m experiencing and the way I want to climb his body like a tree whenever I see him can’t be denied. “I’m going to run upstairs and brush my teeth first.”
“Yeah. Me too. I’ll race you upstairs. I’ll even give you a head start.” He pushes himself up from the soft mattress.
“I’m too tired to race you tonight.” I stand up and walk off the soft bed.
“What’s the matter, Bambi, you afraid I’ll…” I don’t hear the end of his taunting question because I’m already halfway up the stairs before Dak even realizes what’s happening.
“You’re a cheater, Trace Hayward!” he calls out in laughter and runs behind me
***
There’s no other light in the room other than the glow of firelight when we snuggle under the down filled comforter a few minutes later. Dak has no problem falling asleep. He’s making little snoring noises almost the minute his head hits the pillow.
Lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, I’m trying to process everything that’s happened in the last few hours. Glancing at my watch, I note it’s only eleven. It feels like we’ve spent way more than a few hours together. With all the promises I made to myself when I transferred to Bernard, how did I end up revealing things to him I never told anyone else? And how the hell did I end up sleeping next to the hottest guy on campus and wanting said hot guy with every cell in my body in a few weeks’ time?
He shifts in his sleep, turns on his side facing me, and his warm breath brushes my cheek. My heart starts beating in a pulse matching the rhythmic dance of the shadows on the ceiling caused by the flickering flames. And then it occurs to me what I want and what I need to do about it.
“Dak?” I whisper, staring at his beautiful, peaceful face. I don’t get any response, so I try again a bit louder, but quiet enough not to interrupt the comforting tranquility of the moment. “Dak? Are you sleeping?”
“Hmm bfflltr,” he stirs and makes an attempt at the English language, at least I think it’s English. I’m envious at his ability to fall into such a deep sleep so fast. It doesn’t matter how tired I am, once my head touches the pillow, thoughts come whirling through my head and I lay there in an immobile dance with my brain, spinning around the thoughts of things I need to get done. And I need Dak to join in my current thought process because it concerns him in a big way.
“Dak.” I touch his face softly and his drowsy eyes flutter open. His lids blink a couple of times like he’s trying to focus on what he’s seeing.
“Trace,” he says in a gravelly voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” I shift so I’m facing him. We’re so close our noses are almost touching. “I thought about what I want.”
“What’s that, baby girl?” He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear and I quiver at his touch. Sparks of electricity shoot out to every part of my body. I resist the overwhelming urge to push closer to him and press my body against his.
“I want to have sex with you.” I’m still whispering, but my words are resolute. Dak is the first guy whose touch hasn’t sent me running, the first guy I could let get close in a long time. This feels so right. He blinks a few more times in rapid succession and bolts straight up to a seated position.
“What? What now? Can you repeat that, because I’m pretty sure I’m in some kind of sleep-induced coma?” He runs his hand back through his sexy bed-tousled hair. Between his suggestive disheveled appearance and the adorable look of confusion on his face, I’m already so turned on I need to rub my legs together to soothe the longing for him.
“I said I want us to have sex,” I state a little louder because I want to be perfectly clear.
“What are you talking about?”
“Wow. You definitely must still be asleep if you don’t know what ‘have sex with me’ means.” Even though I’m a jumbled mess of nerves because of what I’m suggesting, I can’t help giggle at the way his confused expression has morphed into one of disbelief.
“I know what that means.” He blows out a big breath and there’s no doubt, he’s definitely wide awake now. “But why are you asking me? I thought you said you weren’t into casual sex and it was too soon after what the dickhead put you through for any kind of relationship, anyway?”
“Right.” I sit up cross-legged in front of him.
“Soooo?” He leans toward me and glares at me through wide eyes, like he’s waiting for the big reveal on how I managed to sustain a complete mental breakdown in the past half hour.
“I’m not ready for a relationship, that’s why this is perfect. Don’t you see? Things in the universe are lined up perfectly.”
“Tracey. Baby. You’ll forgive me. I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “That seems to happen a lot when you’re talking to me,” he mumbles through his fingers. “I know there’s this unbelievable attraction between us, but how exactly did you go from ‘go away and leave me the fuck alone’ to ‘I want to have sex with you’ in a few days?”
“I never said leave me the fuck alone.”
“No. But you did say ‘go away and leave me alone,’ the fuck was implied. So, what’s up? Why the drastic change of heart?”
“Why does it matter why I changed my mind? You never have a problem saying yes to anyone else who wiggles her ass in your direction.”
“It matters because you’re not that kind of girl.”
“You know I’m not a virgin, Dak.”
“I think I understand your sexual status, Trace. But a few days ago you didn’t even want to talk to me and you were adamant about the no casual sex thing. Now you want to get naked and climb all over me? I get I’m irresistible, sweetheart, can’t argue with that. And I feel the way you tremble whenever I touch you.”
“You are such an egotistical jerk. And I do not tremble.”
“If you could put a harness on your galloping ego for one second and listen.” I move closer to him so I’m right in front of him, sure if he can see me he will be able to understand me better. “I feel like we’ve become good friends in the last few hours. As you said, I’m not ready for any complicated relationships and I know you’re not into any kind of relationship. You just…well…sleep around. And since I don’t want to get involved with anyone, I changed my mind.”
“You don’t want to get involved with anyone so you changed your mind about sleeping with me,” he states like he’s finally figured it out.
“Right. You said yourself we can’t deny the attraction between us.” He’s nodding, the thought train chugging along. “I want you, and from what I…um… felt, you want me too. Since we’re friends and there’s no chance of us getting involved, I thought we could have sex, no strings attached. No feelings, no falling in love. You know, just for fun, and I can even throw in a little extra studying and tutoring for you.” I sit up straight and flip my hair back over my shoulder, content I came up with a reasonable solution to the quagmire of sexual tension between us. I managed to explain the solution in a concise, understandable manner.
“What the fuck!” He jumps up and starts pacing the floor. Uh oh. I think the thought train has jumped the tracks. “Are you saying you want us to have, like, a meaningless fuck for fun? Oh. No, wait. You want it in exchange for tutoring?” He air quotes around the word exchange, like it’s some kind of poison word. “Are you like selling yourself to me now?”
“What? No! Absolutely not. We already made an arrangement in exchange for the skating routine. I just thought—”
“No. You didn’t think. Are you crazy? Why now? Why me? You know what I’m like with women. I don’t get involved. I don’t stay around. ”
He hasn’t stopped pacing, or should I say stomping back and forth like a caged tiger. If I squint, I swear I see steam coming out of his nose and ears.
“That’s exactly why you. You don’t want any strings and neither do I… I only want—”
“To get laid,” he spits.
“No.” I’m sitting on the bed, looking up at his angry face. “Well, yes. But I want it to be with you,” I add in a soft voice.
His anger dissolves into what looks and sounds like disappointment. “No way.” He shakes his head. “Not with you.”
“So you’re not attracted to me?”
“Of course I’m attracted to you. You’re fucking gorgeous! There isn’t any part of me that doesn’t want you. But I’m not the right guy for you. You’re not that kind of girl. You don’t…you know. Besides, like you said, we’re friends. I don’t do ‘casual fuck’ with friends.” He freaking air quotes again, this time around the words casual fuck.
“Let me get this straight.” I untangle myself from the twisted blankets around me and stand in front of him. “You can fuck anything in a crotch-length skirt that brushes past you, but you can’t have sex with me,” I snarl and poke a finger into his chest. His magnificent chest.
He grabs my wrist and glares at me. Then his grip softens. “They’re not you. You’re different.” He drops my hand.
I don’t miss a beat with my response. I’ve had a lot of experience in the arena of rejection. I was trained by the world’s biggest asshole, so this latest rejection is nothing.
“Never mind. Forget it. Let’s just go to sleep so we can wake up bright and early and get the freak out of here.”
Throwing myself back down on the bed, I pull the blankets up so high they almost cover my head. The covers shift as he lies down next to me. I’m lying on my back, peeking out over the top of the blankets, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. In my peripheral vision I can see he’s on his back staring up at the ceiling too.
“Trust me,” he says, his voice so low it’s barely audible, “I’m not what you need. I’m not good for you.”
“I’m old enough to decide what is or isn’t good for me,” I answer without turning to him.
“You sure about that?” I can feel him staring at me when he asks the loaded question.
Sure, I made plenty of stupid choices in my past. But I’m older, smarter. Aren’t I? When I don’t answer him, he turns on his side, facing away from me.
I keep my eyes glued to the performance of the waving silhouettes taking place on the ceiling in shades of gray and black. My mind is racing as I think about Dak’s words. I can’t be angry with him. I know what I suggested is crazy and out of character for me, and I kind of get where he’s coming from. He listened to my past horror story and was comforting and understanding. In fact, he’s done nothing but take care of me all night. I don’t think he’s rejecting me; I think he’s trying to take care of me as a concerned friend. And as crazy as it is, I want him even more now because of his reaction to my proposition.
The rhythmic swaying on the ceiling acts like a rocking lullaby and after a few minutes my lids grow heavy and exhaustion overtakes the thoughts racing through my head and the desires pulsing through my body.
***
This dream is even more intense than the last one. My back is pressed against his front. His arm is holding me tight against him and his leg is draped over my hip. I wiggle my ass back into him and he responds with a groan, his hard, full length against me.
I’m on fire, burning hotter than the glowing embers in the fireplace. I turn and his arm tightens even more around me. I gaze into his eyes. They sear into mine. In the dim light they appear as dark and dangerous as the stormy waters in the bay.
His hand moves to my face and he strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers. “Trace,” he whispers. The sound of my name on his lips reverent.
My heart is beating so hard against my ribs it’s going to explode. I can’t control it. I’m going to die of pleasure right here in my sleep.
“I do want you so bad,” he whispers and rocks his hips into me so I can feel how much harder and bigger his cock is now.
Oh God. Is this real? Am I dreaming?
He leans in and kisses me with a gentleness as soft as his whispers. I return his kiss. But I can’t be gentle. I’m consumed by my scorching need. I part my lips, inviting his further exploration. Our tongues tangle and I grab his full bottom lip in my teeth and bite down. I’m going to devour him if I don’t get release.
“Please…Dak. Please,” I beg.
This is too intense. Too real. I need to wake up.
His slips his hand into the waist of my pants and moves it between my thighs, his fingers stroking and teasing.
“I need…please,” I moan.
“I know what you need, baby girl. I’m here.” He licks and kisses the tender spot below my ear, and despite the molten blood pulsing through me I shiver in response. He slides one finger inside me with ease. I’m slick with the need for him.
“Fuck. You’re so wet,” he groans. He uses his thumb to make circles on the aching bundle of nerves at my center and then slips in another finger. I arch into his hand, pushing against it. My body is going to detonate if I don’t wake up.
“Oh God…Dakota. Please,” I plead. I can’t breathe. I need more.
This is so real. So real.
His fingers start pumping in and out of me at a frantic pace and my hips match their rhythm. “Fuck. Tracey,” he groans in a raspy voice. “Let it go, baby. I want to feel you let go.”
My world explodes into a haze of blazing fireworks. I scream his name as waves of pleasure lift and rock me in what feels like an unending ride back down to Earth. The coiled tension holding me finally releases. Every muscle relaxes into him while he showers my face and neck with kisses and whispered endearments. At first I’m so filled with the blissful intoxication I luxuriate in his tenderness. But when he slides his fingers out of me, I’m jolted out of my hazy afterglow and I know.
It isn’t a dream.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Dak
“Oh my God. What? What just happened?” Trace bursts straight up on the bed.
I smirk and sit up next to her. “Well if you don’t know, then I must’ve done something very wrong.”
“I thought…I didn’t…” She’s shaking even though she’s swathed in the layers of blankets twisted around us from the few minutes of hotter-than-fuck passion we shared.
“Tracey, calm down. What’s the problem? I thought you wanted me to.”
She pulls the covers up under chin. “I thought…I thought I was dreaming.” She’s nibbling on her lip again.
“You thought you were dreaming about me?” She gives an almost imperceptible nod. Huh. Interesting. “Have you…uh, dreamed about me before?”
I know she suggested having sex with me, but dreaming about me is in a whole other realm than casual fuck. After all the excuses I gave her explaining why having sex with me is such a bad idea, it’s ironic my heart is doing joyful handstands right now.
She pinches her eyes closed and groans. But they’re not the sensual groans she was giving me a few minutes ago when she screamed ‘Dakota.’ She’s never said my whole name before and no one has ever said it like that. This current groan is all anguish and disgust and I hate what she’s feeling about what happened.
“I don’t dream about…I don’t usually dream so vividly.” She shakes her head.
“No. I guess not.” I chuckle, because her response to my hand was pretty fucking vivid.
But she’s not laughing or even smiling. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I shouldn’t have….”
She’s apologizing to me? She’s too much.
“Did I…did I do that to your lip?” She runs her finger along my bottom lip and my cock gives a hopeful twitch. But ouch. Until she touched it, I didn’t feel the bite mark she left on my lip.
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