Quicksilver Dreams (Dreamwalkers)

by Adele, Danube

  “Don’t be a baby.” His gruff voice in my ear gave me shivers. I was suddenly airborne as he lifted me in his strong arms, gym bag and all, like I didn’t weigh much.

  “I don’t need you to carry me!” I struggled in his grasp, trying to stretch my legs down.

  “You’re going to hurt your leg.”

  “Not if I walk.”

  “I’m going to help you,” he said sternly.

  “You don’t even like me! Why are you trying to help me? I don’t get you!” And the tears continued to trail down my cheeks, so I did my best to hide my face over his shoulder.

  He didn’t respond, and I quickly grabbed on to his thick shoulder muscles as he jogged up the stairs to the second floor. I absolutely refused to acknowledge that I enjoyed feeling feminine and fragile in his arms. Refused! And I absolutely remembered that he’d just been mean to me! No, really, I did. But I still didn’t know how to resolve the situation I found myself in.

  The door was locked, and he had to put me down so I could fish out my keys. Of course, they were way at the bottom of my bag, but it gave me a moment to breathe and figure out how I wanted to handle this, even with his large, hulking form waiting right in front of me.

  Let him in or send him away. What was the best thing to do?

  I located my keys and looked up into his jade eyes, ready to politely dismiss him, and saw they were frowning down at me with a hint of self-reproach, like he was doing something he didn’t agree with. If I could read into his expression a bit, he even seemed somewhat unsure, like he didn’t quite know what to do with me.

  “Taylor,” he started, but he paused, disarming me with a gentle swipe of a tear from my face, and glared at the floor a moment. His face set in hard lines, he looked at me briefly, and in that moment I could see his expression seemed tortured. There was an internal struggle going on, like he was debating what he was going to say. “I don’t think you’re inviting sexual harassment, and I didn’t think you were asking for anything to happen to you...any more than my sister was.”

  “Oh.” The soft exclamation deflated my upset.

  I saw from his closed-off expression that that was all he planned to say, leaving me to wonder with horror about what had happened to his sister. Had men sexually abused her? Was she okay? It had to have been bad, if he was unwilling to talk about it. Was this his way of apologizing or trying to make peace? If something terrible had happened to his sister in a sexual way, I could understand his having strong feelings about protecting a female from unwelcome sexual attention.

  “You’re going to need someone with tweezers to pull out all the little pieces of glass,” he said in a businesslike manner. “Let me help you.”

  “Okay.” And there I was, feeling all gooey about him once again.

  It felt very intimate being in Cynthia’s tiny bathroom with him. There wasn’t much room, and I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as I bumped him with every move I made.

  My breathing suddenly did that shallow thing again. There was a washrag hanging on a towel rack behind him, so I leaned around him to retrieve that. It gave me a chance to smell his clean, spicy-soapy scent, as I was nearly body to body with him while doing that. Then I reached for the kit under the sink, and my butt bumped his hip. A naughty voice made her presence known in my head, wanting me to rub on him, which came out of nowhere. Who was that? It wasn’t me. I wasn’t a sexual person. Was I?

  I turned to give him the surprisingly heavy rectangular metal kit, and the back of his hand grazed my breast.

  That one made me suck in air with the sudden flash of pleasure that zinged my sex with heat. Our gazes held. I could feel the sexual awareness wrapping wispy tendrils around us, working its magic. The room was feeling hotter. His eyes seemed to deepen into a darker green and they dipped to the breast he’d accidentally touched. The nipple was peaked, as though looking for attention, and I could tell he wanted to respond to that invitation by the way his hands tightened on the metal box. My heart kicked up a notch, wondering what that would feel like. I had a feeling it would feel pretty damn good.

  Ryder reluctantly, but decisively, turned his attention to the kit, ending the moment, though it remained uncomfortably quiet for several seconds. I was glad to note that he needed to adjust his stance and take a deep breath as he dug through the metal container, so it wasn’t just me who was affected by that highly charged moment. I was dying to look down for some visual confirmation, but I didn’t want to be too obvious or embarrass him. Instead, I leaned a hip on the counter and watched him select and discard various items.

  Before long, there were a few things pulled out and stacked on the counter. He found tweezers, some antiseptic spray, gauze and Band-Aid strips. He appeared to be very comfortable with cleaning up wounds, as he laid the medical supplies out in an organized fashion. Then he washed his hands, all very quickly and with little fuss. So thorough. Wow. I would have just started the cleanup.

  “Always need to beware of infection,” he muttered in his deep voice, as though explaining why he was being thorough.

  “Right. Thanks.”

  “Now turn around. Bend over.”

  I merely raised an eyebrow at Ryder’s commands before complying, though I couldn’t shake the Skinematic feel of the moment, which made me blush. Then he got to work.

  The glass cuts stung, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t felt them when I sat on the glass initially. Of course, they were pretty small. I should have checked the driver’s seat before sitting, but I was upset and the adrenaline was pumping at the time. Each one that came free made a light clinking sound as he set it next to me on the sink.

  Luckily, there were only a few, and before I knew it, he was spraying the canned stuff on me. And get this. The moment I hissed with discomfort, he blew lightly on my skin to ease the burn. And through it all, I’d been absolutely conscious of his big hand resting gently on my thigh while the other removed the small shards. In spite of the discomfort of the glass, I felt suspended in a haze of growing arousal, confused that my body was reacting so strongly.

  Why now? Why hadn’t this happened with any other guy before? Ronny had been a nice, handsome college boyfriend with a good, fit body, but I’d never experienced such a strong bodily reaction to him. Now I was feeling shaky and needy. I didn’t know what to do with this.

  “So what happened?” Ryder had just finished putting gauze and tape on the affected areas. His hand gave a final lingering squeeze to the back of my thigh when he stood up. He towered over me once again, which I was absolutely coming to be turned on by. No more average-height guys for me. The poor Ricos of the world would have a harder time getting a date with me in the future.

  Ryder suddenly glared at me and stepped back to lean against the wall.

  “You asked what happened?” I wasn’t sure why he was giving me that look. “My car was broken into.”

  “Your car?”

  “I know, right? I have this lousy little compact, but it’s my lousy little compact, and someone smashed the window. I was so upset, I must not have noticed that there was glass on my seat too.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “When I was at the gym just now. I was only there for like an hour, doing my kickboxing class, but then I went out to my car and saw the window busted in.”

  He stared into my eyes with sudden intensity, searching, kind of like what Cynthia was doing earlier, which had also been really weird. As though satisfied by what he saw, he nodded almost to himself.

  Okay, then.

  “Did you call the police?”

  “No. What was the point? There was nothing stolen. People’s cars get broken into all the time, and mine’s a junker anyway.”

  “Are you sure nothing was taken? Absolutely?” Again, he watched me searchingly.

  “I’m certain. I never keep anyth
ing in my car. It just bummed me out because it’s something else I’m going to need to pay for. Busted window.”

  With a sigh, I leaned my butt against the counter and crossed my arms. In the sudden silence, I saw that the movement had drawn his eyes like a magnet. Following his line of sight, I saw that my cleavage was pushed up enticingly against my sports-bra shirt. When I looked back at Ryder, his pale eyes had, again, gone heavy lidded with heat. Quickly, I dropped my arms, not wanting him to think I was trying to be a tease, but it was too late. The damage was done. And if I were being totally honest, I would admit that maybe I was excited to see what he would do next. Anticipation is an amazing aphrodisiac.

  He took a step forward, which brought him close enough to me in this tiny space that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. What to do? What did I want to do? Desire swamped my senses. Nerves had me feeling quivery. I was alone with this big, strong man whom I was attracted to. What was I supposed to do next? I wasn’t really sure... Can anyone say “in over my head?”

  Ryder took the final step, and his arms boxed me in against the sink, the length of his body inches from mine. I could feel his anger, as though he didn’t want to be attracted, which gave me a hit of power. I thrust my chin up in defiance, some of which was bravado, and just stared at him, daring him to try something, without feeling any fear. I could make this large, imposing male want me.

  My heart pumped with a mixture of lust and some anxiety, not knowing what was about to happen. I could feel my pulse in my throat and found my eyes feasting hungrily on his sensual lips.

  “You don’t get it, do you?” This was said in a soft, gravelly tone that made tingles spread through my body.

  “Get what?” My voice was all breathy Marilyn Monroe.

  “Your impact.” His voice sounded deep and foreboding.

  “My impact?”

  His eyes narrowed on me. He kept his silence for a moment, and I could only stare helplessly up into his eyes, not knowing what to say or do. He raised his hand and traced a gentle finger down my cheek, but wore an accusatory glare as he looked down at me. Even his voice sounded frustrated. “You’re actually so innocent. How did you get to be this age, living on your own, and still know so little about men?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” My words came out breathlessly. Truthfully, I wasn’t even really listening to what he was saying, my heart was thundering so loudly.

  “If you knew what was going on in the minds of half the men around you, you wouldn’t be so quick to prance around with this beautiful body.” His large hand dropped to my waist where the shirt had ridden up, making contact skin to skin. I quivered. His hand was like a brand, heating my flesh. His thumb rubbed a small circle by my belly button, and goose bumps fanned out over my stomach. I was completely under his spell.

  “Dammit...” he muttered, and his forearm snaked around my waist, pulling me firmly against his steely body. His lips captured mine, and I swear I saw stars. Heat exploded. I whimpered, wanting more of his taste and feel, and I found my arms reaching around his neck of their own accord. Fire was building from the inside, and all I could do was run my hands through his thick, soft hair, grabbing it in handfuls so I could have him right where I wanted him.

  He growled in response, shoving against me, pushing me back against the counter with his hips, grinding into me.

  It was rough and wild. His strong lips slanted against mine, deepening the kiss. His teeth nipped my lower lip, and when I gasped with the pleasure and pain, his tongue swept my mouth, tasting me, rubbing velvet on velvet.

  Yes!

  I moaned as the fire spread through my breasts, my thighs, clear down to my toes. I couldn’t get enough. I went to taste him back, and when my tongue tangled with his, he sucked it in, a groan rumbling in his throat, which only excited me more. Moist heat rushed between my thighs in achy waves.

  His hands dragged over my back, my hips and my ass, pulling me against his erection, and naturally, my hips and tummy cradled it and rubbed against it, loving the feel of it. Then his hand went over the back of my thigh, pulling it up to his waist and...I felt the sharp sting from my glass puncture wounds.

  “Damn.” He pulled away, feeling my sudden cry of discomfort, though he kept his hands gripping my ass, which just felt right.

  “It’s all right.” I rested my head on his chest and could hear his heart pumping wildly. Then reality interceded. I didn’t even know this guy, and here I was throwing myself at him. No wonder he thought I was asking for it.

  “Stop it,” he murmured harshly.

  “What?” I asked warily.

  “Second-guessing everything.” He rested his forehead on mine. “We can’t do this now.”

  “You’re right. We can’t.”

  “You don’t have all the facts.”

  “No, I don’t know you.”

  “You don’t understand, but you will.” He took a deep breath and almost to himself repeated, “You will. Soon.”

  “Yeah, well—”

  “Take your shower. We can talk later.”

  I was beginning to feel embarrassed at my wanton behavior! OMG, right? I don’t know his name, where he’s from, what he does for a living, but here I am swapping DNA samples with him because my brain decided to go AWOL from my body, and my body was totally turned on by his scrumptious masculinity.

  Feeling self-conscious, I plastered a smile on my face and tried to think of something appropriate to say to get out of what was starting to be a weird situation, but then he tilted my head up by putting his fingers under my chin and gave me another hot, stirring kiss that left me senseless. Just as I was getting the feel for it again, he left. I forgot what my concerns were momentarily and stared after him, feeling bewildered by the events I’d experienced in so short a time.

  He left a void with his absence, and for a moment, all I could do was stare at myself in the mirror and try to see what Ryder was seeing when he looked at me. With my hair pulled back in a ponytail, my bone structure was more pronounced, and I had to say that I did look hot, even though my looks come from my mother. It was a thought that brought along its own brand of depression.

  I usually shelve thoughts of my mother immediately as a survival strategy.

  My pale blue eyes, almond shaped, were set above a pert, small nose, and my high cheekbones curved above full lips that looked even fuller because they were swollen and pink from ravishment. It was a good look for me.

  Life is so weird. You just never know what the next day is going to bring.

  A smile brought the twinkle back to my eyes.

  Ryder couldn’t resist me.

  On that note, I made a quick detour to slide the front-door lock before going to the bathroom in my room and, whistling, taking a nice long shower. Regretfully, all of Ryder’s handiwork with the gauze had to be redone, and an impish voice in my head tried to convince me to go to his apartment and have a repeat performance, but the more sane voice called a halt to that idea.

  This thing with Ryder was sudden and overwhelming. I couldn’t just go jumping off the deep end here when I didn’t know the guy. I needed time to think and consider. I needed to find my balance. I needed to remember that I was a self-sufficient woman who could stand on her own and didn’t need to rely on men to be sugar daddies, like my mother did.

  But the apartment felt large and quiet as I rambled around the rooms in a large T-shirt. Turning on the TV, I grabbed a bagel, some peanut butter and an apple, making a meal out of the simple fare while watching a bad reality show. I must have fallen asleep, because I found myself in a recurring nightmare that I’ve had since “the incident,” when I was five years old.

  I’m at the L.A. County Fair with my mother and so happy, because for once she is spending time with just me. The two of us. So often, she has to “go to work” or “meet someone,” an
d I get stuck with my grandmother in her house, with her smoke-stained air that makes my throat sore. But not today. Today, she says she wants to spend time with her little girl.

  We set out at lunchtime and gorge ourselves on hot dogs, soda and ice cream. We go on the kiddy rides, play games and have someone take a picture of us with our camera, behind one of the silly cutouts. There are so many emotions: excitement mixed with love and happiness. There’s a loud din of white noise. People talking and laughing, the music from various rides intertwining and creating chaotic sound, and bright colors flashing here and there make up the background.

  Then it suddenly turns to night. It’s dark. My mother leaves me alone. She tells me to wait for her on the wall while she goes into the wine-drinking place to say hi to a friend. I’m a good girl and wait. Strangers loom out of the dark with concern, asking if I’m okay. Am I lost? But I say no. I’m waiting. My mother told me to wait. I don’t know how long I’m waiting. No, I won’t go with them and get help. They’re strangers, and my mommy always told me to never talk to strangers.

  Panic sets in. I question myself. Have I got her instructions right? She’s always telling me it’s my fault that I’m left behind so often, because I don’t listen. Didn’t my mother tell me to wait here? It seems like it’s been a long time. I’m getting cold. It’s dinnertime again, and I’m getting hungry. Where is she?

  A glowing white flower winks at me, kind of like magic. It was just lying next to me on the wall, and I pick it up. It’s soft and pretty, like my mommy. I could go give it to her, and then we could go home and have some dinner. That seems like a good plan.

  I go to the wine-drinking place and peek through the door, but I can’t see her, and a big man meanly tells me I can’t come in. Where is she? I look around and around and all I see are tall strangers. I move from one exhibit to another. I can’t find her. I start crying and running and the lights are getting too bright and the music from the rides is getting too loud and my shirt is suddenly snagged by a stranger’s hand that takes on the dimensions of a horrid claw, and I scream and scream.