by Various
The only light came from under the door. She heard Derek moving between the kitchen and the living room. The urge to be near him drew her across the room. She grasped the doorknob, knowing it wouldn’t move, but needing to try anyway. Nothing.
Being separated from him was worse torture than the fog. Not knowing how he felt tonight had her insides in knots.
Had he made up with Haley? Had he suffered a hangover today? Was he wearing jeans or sweats? Was he still pretending she was nothing but a dream or hallucination?
Her skin flushed hot as she remembered giving in to her attraction last night. She finally knew what the thick muscles of his shoulders felt like under her hands, the taste of his salty skin as her tongue played along his neck. She finally knew the passion of his kiss. Wow, the man could kiss! She had no memory of kissing anyone else, but even if she’d Frenched a dozen Don Juans, Derek’s rough, possessive kiss would have wiped the slate clean. There had been no room for insecurity or indecision in it. She wished she had half the confidence he wielded in his kiss alone.
And in his touch. The man was a taker, and she wanted to be taken completely. Derek would never let something like doubt stop him from possessing whatever he wanted. And she had been foolish enough to think he might want her. When he’d accepted the intimate comfort she offered, she’d thought he’d accepted her. She’d felt like she finally had an ally in this strange existence. Someone cared about her. She could deal with her situation, as long as she had that much.
How wrong she’d been. Whatever she thought they’d shared last night, this morning he’d been scared of her, and tonight he had barred her from reaching him. At first, she hoped it was unintentional, but when she heard his footsteps pad from the bathroom to the living room and saw the light extinguished and heard nothing more, she knew he was avoiding her.
The rejection cut deep. She sank to her knees and pressed her forehead to the door. Tears tried to come, but she refused them. She had no one to blame but herself. She’d been too bold. Perhaps with the affection she’d pushed on him while he’d been vulnerable. Definitely with her pathetic attempt at morning-after conversation.
Embarrassment made her rock her head against the smooth wood. Anger at her miscalculation made her fists clench. She should have been more cautious.
Now he was sleeping somewhere on the other side of this door, where she would be powerless to help him if his nightmares returned.
“Spare him those horrible dreams tonight,” she begged whatever power had brought them together.
But her plea went unanswered. Before long, she heard him begin to whimper. The sound of leather creaking told her he was on his couch and likely thrashing, like she’d seen him do in bed with the nightmare at its worst. Her stomach turned at the thought of him scared or hurting.
“Derek,” she called through the door, desperate to wake him. But he probably wouldn’t have been able to hear her even if he were awake. “Please, wake up! Oh, please,” she added under her breath as she gripped the doorknob and yanked with all her strength. “Please,” she implored again, putting a foot on the doorframe and pulling until her muscles protested and her joints throbbed with pain.
His whimpers changed. One moment they reflected physical pain, the next they were heart wrenching pleas. “Daddy!” he cried. “No! You have to wake up!”
She couldn’t stand it. She should be comforting him, telling him it wasn’t real, making sure he didn’t have to face his nightmares alone. The door wouldn’t budge, but if she was a ghost, maybe she could go through it…or under it. It was worth a try.
She shoved her fingers under the door, and willed her body to transform to mist or whatever and slide underneath, following the path of her fingers. But she only bruised her knuckles.
Derek’s suffering tortured her ears. He was only a few yards away, but completely out of reach.
She had an idea.
This morning, she’d turned off his alarm and clicked on the lamp without thinking about it. Those things weren’t on the bed. They were beside the bed. She shouldn’t have been able to affect them. She’d been able to because she’d been on the bed. Maybe if she got on the bed, she stood a chance of waking Derek from his nightmare.
She leaped up on the mattress, and started yelling for him to wake up, pushing her vocal cords to their limit. “It’s only a dream, Derek! It’s not real! Wake up! Wake up!”
When his sobbing continued, she grabbed the heavy brass lamp, yanked the cord from the wall and threw it at the door. The wood shuddered with the direct hit, and the lamp clattered to the floor.
“Wake up!” she yelled one more time, and her voice echoed off the walls.
His crying stopped.
* * * *
Sweat coated Derek from head to toe. His heart thundered in his chest, each beat ripe with the agony of loss. He’d been having the nightmare again, only this time, it had been even more brutal than before—no sweetly whispered words or gentle caresses to ground him and remind him none of it was real. He’d been at the part where the man he called daddy lay limp on the ground while remorse and rain pummeled him, when something jarred him from the dream.
A loud bang.
He reached for the bat he kept by the bed, but his hand didn’t connect with it. He sat up, disoriented.
That’s right, he’d gone to sleep on the couch, too chickenshit to set foot in his room in case there was a ghost inside. A beautiful, sexy, compassionate ghost who had a comforting touch, vulnerable blue eyes, and the softest, sweetest lips imaginable.
What a fool.
He untangled himself from the blanket, peeled off his sweat-soaked t-shirt, and stood with difficulty. The aftereffects of adrenaline made his legs quake. Forcing one foot in front of the other, he reached his bedroom door and threw it open. Something heavy scraped across the floor as the door brushed it aside. Judging by its heft, it must have been his lamp. He swiped a hand over the switch on the wall to turn on the overhead light.
Blinking against the brightness, he focused on the bed. There she was, kneeling on top of his mussed sheets, pressing a bruised hand over her mouth. His dream girl.
His breath rushed out in relief.
She had porcelain pale skin with freckles at the tops of her shoulders. Auburn hair framed her fresh, twenty-something face and fell in waves behind her back. Her dark blue, sleeveless shirt matched the color of her eyes, and the color of his new bedroom curtains. The cuff of her white shorts hugged her ivory thighs a hand’s span from her knees. Her wide eyes swam with concern.
Her hand fell away from her mouth, revealing full, perfect lips. “That was louder than I thought it would be. I’m sorry. I was trying to wake you up. Are you okay?” She bit her lip, insecure. Her gaze wandered down his bare chest, and her eyes grew even wider before snapping back up to meet his. Pink rushed to her cheeks.
The shy heat in her eyes chased away the lingering terror of the nightmare. It also made him instantly hard.
He was an idiot for being afraid of this gentle creature. And he’d be a double idiot if he didn’t have her in his arms in the next heartbeat. In two strides, he reached the bed, pulled her to his chest and kissed her.
Sensual fire ignited in his stomach as he took her lips.
Her arms went around him, her fingers clinging to the bare skin of his back, and he almost lost his mind.
Lust and a primal urge to possess pushed him to deepen the kiss. With one hand, he cupped her head, holding her in place while he delved into her mouth and took the comfort he’d denied himself by shutting her inside his room.
A horrible thought struck him and he reeled back from the kiss, pulling a moan of protest from her. He snatched up her hands. Both had fresh, red bruises across the knuckles. The joints were swollen and looked painful. He turned her hands over, and her palms were red, too.
“Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”
“It’s nothing.” She tried to pull her hands from his grasp, but he didn’t let them go.<
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She’d been banging on the door, trying to get out. Trying to get to him. She’d been so determined she’d injured herself. Because of his cowardice. His throat closed with self-loathing.
“It’s nothing,” she said more forcefully. She twisted her wounded hands out of his and placed them on either side of his jaw. Her hot palms branded his guilt onto his face. “You look exhausted. You didn’t get enough sleep last night, and unless you get back to sleep soon, it’ll be the same tonight. Why don’t you lie down and get some rest? I can watch over you now.”
Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but guilt assaulted him, not just for trapping her in his room tonight, but for last night, too. She’d given him amazing pleasure without asking for anything in return. The sweet, sexy thing had been panting and grinding on top of him, kissing him with hot abandon. That he’d left her like that without returning the sexual favor then treated her the way he had in the morning made him sick to his stomach. And despite it all, she wanted to watch over him so he could get some sleep.
He owed her an apology. And an orgasm. And he wouldn’t waste a single second by going to sleep. If what she’d said this morning was true, he’d only have her until five AM or so.
It was almost midnight. That gave him a little more than half the night to make up for what an ass he’d been.
“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. It’s time for me to give you what you need.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheeks. Alternating between kisses and swipes of his thumbs, he smoothed away the faint lines of distress on her face.
“I don’t need anything,” she said, surrendering to his touch. He bit back a grin at the breathy desire in her voice. “Just to know you’re okay.”
“Well, I’m not okay,” he whispered against her lips. Then he kissed her softly. Jesus, he could kiss her all night. Between tender pecks that had their lips clinging with breath-stealing friction, he said, “I have this heavy weight on my conscience, and I’ll never be able to sleep unless I get it off.”
Her eyes drifted closed as her lips joined in the sensual dance. When he gave a little lick to those lush, pillowy lips, her tongue flicked out in answer.
“Get what off?” she asked innocently, her mind clearly wandering from the conversation.
He loved that he could muddle her concentration with a simple kiss. Chuckling, he said, “You’ll see,” and set to righting his many wrongs.
* * * *
Derek’s mouth moved over DG’s, and tingles spread from her center to her fingers and toes. His lips were insistent but mostly closed, his embrace sure but gentle. The kiss was honest and contrite, almost like an apology, and yet the arrogant masculinity that was pure Derek rode underneath. The tenderness of it took her breath away, and the dominance in it ignited her body.
Suddenly, she wasn’t as concerned about his rest as she’d been a few minutes ago. She could think of more productive things for him to do than sleep, such as kissing her some more, and letting her be his dream girl in truth.
She parted her lips, inviting him to deeper intimacy. She needed him to help her forget her dread of the fog and her uncertainty in this strange existence. But he pulled away.
She growled in protest, but the look on his face made her forget her disappointment. It was soft with affection. And pained. What had he been saying before he’d kissed her and destroyed any semblance of intelligent thought? Something about a heavy weight?
“I’m sorry,” he said, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles.
“Sorry?” she repeated, still dazed from Derek’s kiss.
He climbed off the bed and left the room.
“No!” She leaped after him, her body strung tight with panic. She couldn’t bear to become separated from him again.
At her cry, he stopped in the doorway and turned back to the bed.
She bounced off his hard chest. Stumbling back, she caught herself and said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Shit. Where’d you go? Are you still here? Please, still be here.” His frantic gaze searched the room. He gripped the doorframe so hard the wood creaked. She was standing right in front of him and he couldn’t see her. Nor had he felt her run into him, apparently.
Somewhat appeased to know he wasn’t running away from her, she hopped back up on the bed.
He instantly pinned her with his gaze. Relief softened his features. “It’s true.” His voice was quiet with wonder. “You really do disappear when you get off the bed.”
“Please don’t leave me.” Seeing evidence of the weirdness might push him too far. “Whatever I did to upset you, I’m sorry.”
He closed the space between them. Gripping her shoulder, he said, “Don’t apologize to me, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the asshole. And I’m trying to make it better.” He stepped back from the bed and held out a stop-hand. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back. I promise.” He backed out of the room, imploring her to trust him with sincere brown eyes and a disarming grin.
Seeing him walk away left an empty hole in the pit of her stomach, but she stayed put like he’d asked, finding comfort in the sounds of his footfalls as he moved through the living room and into the kitchen. He was back in less than a minute and had something blue in his hands.
“Ice pack,” he said, climbing on the bed and sitting with his back against the wall, where a headboard would be if he had one. He held out an arm to her, and she wasted no time settling beside him. Her whole body melted with a feeling of peace. Touching him was her heaven. Being separated from him, her hell.
He made sure a pillow cushioned her back. Curling one arm around her, he patted her lap and said, “Put your hands here.” When she did, he draped a thin towel over the backs of her hands and rested the ice pack on top. The cold seeped through the towel to soothe her painful knuckles.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said even though the gesture was like an injection of cozy joy straight to her heart.
He nuzzled the side of her head. “Yes, I did.” He sighed through his nose, a sound of self-incrimination.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she insisted.
“Yes. It was. I was a coward. And an ass. Unwilling to see what was right in front of me.”
She leaned forward, offended he could possibly think he’d done anything wrong. “You did what any sane person would do. It’s not normal to have strangers appear out of nowhere in the middle of your bedroom.”
“You have a point,” he conceded. “But it’s not like you sprang yourself on me. I had plenty of opportunities to figure out you were here. I was just being dense. Can you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” It was sweet he thought he owed her an apology, but she was eager to get back to the kissing. Her gaze kept darting to the clock, which insisted on counting down her time with him.
“Hush. Let me do this,” he said, placing a finger over her lips. When he continued, he traced that finger down her chin and throat and dragged it across her collarbone, making her shiver all over. Okay, she could handle him apologizing as long as he had other things in mind, too. “When I thought you were imaginary, it didn’t bother me to…” He forced air out his nose and cupped her cheek. “Use you like I did last night.”
She gasped. “Use me? How was that using me? I practically jumped you. I should have been more sensitive—you’d just had a terrible dream, and there I was, kissing you and grabbing you. I should be asking your forgiveness.”
He pinched her lips closed. His eyes twinkled with mischief, but sobered as he said, “Sweetheart, there was nothing wrong with what you did to me. Nothing. I only wish I had returned the favor. It’s an oversight I plan to correct. Now.”
He lowered his mouth to hers and paused a breath away. Their eyes locked. Everything from her lips to the soft place between her legs plumped up in anticipation of the wicked promises in his gaze. He attacked her mouth with a growl.
Nothing like the apologetic kiss from before, this kiss demanded. It took. This
kiss was the best thing to happen to her ever, and that had to include whatever she’d experienced before the fog. The ice pack forgotten, she twined her arms around his neck.
He withdrew only enough to change his angle and seal their open mouths more perfectly.
That second of separation had her gasping his name.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, and he hauled her onto his lap, encouraging her to straddle him.
She held on for dear life while he ravaged her mouth. Liquid heat gathered between her legs, and every feminine part of her ached to be fondled. The fog could not have her back until she’d known the entirety of Derek. Maybe it was the stress of the situation talking, but he felt like her destiny. He felt like hers.
Keeping their bodies smashed together with one strong arm, Derek flipped her onto her back. His weight on top of her was the sweetest security, his hot, wet kisses the deepest comfort.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling their pelvises into alignment.
He tore his mouth from hers to trail kisses down her throat while he worked the buttons down the front of her shirt. “Let’s get you out of these clothes, sweetheart.”
Yes, yes, she thought, but it came out as a desperate mewling sound.
He chuckled, but the smirk dropped from his face when he exposed her lacy, white bra. “Beautiful.”
Was she? She still didn’t know what she looked like.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to tug him down for more of those fantastic kisses.
His smirk returned. “Oh, no you don’t. This is my show now, and I want to put my mouth somewhere else.”
If his words didn’t send her body into sensual shock, his hungry gaze certainly did as he focused on the skin and lace he’d exposed. She couldn’t believe she was the object of such intensity. It should frighten her, but it filled her with confidence, instead. That confidence guiding her, she ran her hands along his toned arms and shoulders. Nothing in this strange existence, not even comforting him through his nightmares, compared to petting him like this and watching his breath catch and his face relax at her touch.