No Time To Dream

by Treva Harte

  She had no intention of living off Jack based on an affair. Not that Jack had offered to have her live off him, live with her or made any other long-term offer at all.

  On the other hand, she couldn't give up what she was doing with Jack. Working with him before had been a pleasure. Now being with him at work was a delight. Being with him after work was—was mind-numbingly wonderful.

  Mind-numbing was the right word for her time with Jack. Jen felt lost in sensation around him. She couldn't think about what she was doing or its ramifications. All she wanted was to be with Jack, preferably making love.

  This had never happened before. Not like this. She didn't even know if she was in love with him—of course she loved him dearly and always had, but what they had together was so intense. It seemed too intense to be real.

  Had she felt quite so confused and happy when she had been with Victor? She couldn't compare what she had with Jack with anything else that happened to her before in her life. What she felt, how he reacted to how she felt—it was all too much and yet nothing was enough to satisfy the need. They both seemed to want more from each other constantly. And both of them kept trying to give more.

  We'll probably kill each other in bed some night and die willingly. I never thought I would ever think that about anyone. Was I that sex-starved before or is Jack just that good?

  Once again, just as it did every time Jen tried to think about why or what was happening or its future implications for the two of them, her brain defensively clicked off into a pure daze of longing, lust and delight.

  There was no need to analyze it now. She was working after all, she reassured herself, not being paid to think about her sex life. And her brain, soothed, went back to thinking about the law and the demands of her job.

  A large man walked to the desk just as Jen punched in the last bit of data she wanted. She looked up. He looked like he was in his thirties or forties, rather heavyset, and hostile. Jen frowned. He looked familiar, but she was sure she had never met him. He got closer.

  "Hello, sir." Jen stood up. "I'm sorry. Do you have an appointment with Mr. Logan today, Mr.—"

  "Where's Logan?" The man ignored her words.

  "He isn't in right now—"

  "Then, by God, you'll have to do." The man abruptly grabbed her arms and half-dragged, half-threw her into the conference room.

  "What—?" Her wrist hit against a chair as she stumbled.

  The man slammed the conference room door shut.

  "The name is Jamieson and I want you and your fucking shyster boss to lay off of me and what I do with my private life!" he roared.

  Jen backed up behind the conference table.

  "Let me explain that better," he said with an open-palmed slap across her face. "My girlfriend just got rid of me because of what got splashed in the goddamned papers about what I did with my wife. My own fucking wife. Maybe I can't get near her right now but I guess I can take care of the bastard who put her up to it."

  Jen saw stars. Then she let out a scream. Damn it, someone must be around the firm, even at lunchtime. She ducked another blow.

  He was blocking the door—and only exit—from the conference room. She eyed the telephone in the corner. Would she even be able to dial before Jamieson got to her?

  Desperate, she scanned the room. A pair of scissors rested on the table. Well, God knew that wasn't much, but she snatched them anyhow. Maybe he could grab them from her or, even if he didn't, maybe she couldn't hurt him much, but anything was better than just standing and being attacked.

  Jamieson muttered, something incoherent and angry about women, and started toward her again. She braced herself.

  Just to do something, she screamed again. The damned conference room was soundproofed, but she knew people could hear some sound if she was just loud enough. Heaven knows Jamieson was. His thrashing as he moved toward her sounded like an elephant. What was she supposed to do? She had one pitiful weapon, and he was at least one hundred pounds heavier than her.

  Where was everyone?

  The door was thrown open.

  Jack didn't waste much time assessing the situation.

  "You're dead, Jamieson!"

  Jen had barely had enough time to get air into her lungs from her last scream when she saw Charlie Jamieson go flying backwards into a wall as a furious Jack hurled himself into the older, larger man.

  "Get out, Jen," Jack hissed through his teeth as the large man got to his feet and lunged toward this new target.

  Jen shrank back when she saw Jamieson pick up a chair and throw it. Jack ducked under the chair and came up with a kick to the stomach. She'd forgotten the years of karate training Jack had had—thank heaven he hadn't.

  Jen ran for the reception area and the telephone. The sounds in the conference room were ugly but, mercifully, brief. She dialed the emergency number with trembling fingers.

  By the time the police came, Jamieson was slumped in a corner of the conference room.

  All the while the police questioned and wrote their reports, Jack held Jen against him. He was dead white, his face drawn tight as if he was in pain. For a little while Jen had thought Jamieson had hurt him, but when she saw the ferocity blazing in his eyes, she knew it was sheer rage and adrenaline. Jen could feel some of the aftereffects herself—she couldn't seem to stop trembling, much as she hated it. To compensate, she kept her voice very level as she told the police what had happened. After one glance, she refused to meet her former assailant's eyes.

  Jack looked her over carefully after the police handcuffed Jamieson and led him out of the office. His gaze missed nothing.

  "Are you all right?" he barked.

  "Yes."

  "Are you sure? You're shaking."

  "I'm fine. My wrist just hurts a little, where he grabbed it. It's nothing," she got out.

  He looked at it and said no more, but his one hand cradled that wrist very tenderly. He didn't look at her again. Jennifer didn't know what that meant. If he was angry at her for some reason she couldn't care right now. She burrowed against him to help keep herself upright.

  When the last officer had left, Jack turned to Laura, back from lunch break at last. She was muttering her distress over and over as she applied ice to Jack's knuckles and Jen's cheek.

  He ended Laura's murmurs when he lifted Jen to her feet.

  "Jen and I are out of here for the afternoon," was all he said as he walked them out the door.

  His arm was still around her waist as they got out into the parking lot.

  "Jack, how are you?"

  "Don't say anything to me right now, Jennifer." He almost shoved her into his car. "We'll talk when we get home."

  His face was set fiercely and he refused to look at her as he drove. Tears began to roll down Jennifer's cheeks.

  Was he angry with her? Was Jack blaming her in some way for all this?

  They got back to Jack's house in record time. When they got inside Jack's entrance hall, he slammed the door shut.

  "What is it, Jack?" she whispered, gathering her courage. She didn't deserve his anger. This wasn't her fault!

  Suddenly she was slammed against the door. And Jack was slammed against her. He held her so tightly she could hardly breathe.

  "Damn it, I thought I would go out of my mind when I saw him manhandle you," Jack growled. "Are you all right? You're sure?"

  Her shirt sleeve ripped apart as he grabbed at her.

  "Are you taking off my clothes so you can check?" Jen tried to laugh, but her heart rate accelerated.

  He didn't laugh back. He growled as her pants' zipper refused to budge. He yanked it open. She could hear it rip. Her shirt was already half off her shoulders, but he pulled it off further. Despite her surprise and previous upset, she felt a little shiver of excitement. She could tell Jack was way beyond that.

  "I'm taking off your clothes because—" His cock slid inside her, hard and urgent. "That is the only way I can tell—-you're OK—and with me. Damn it!"

 
It was over almost before it began. He took her up against the wall, and with fierce, almost brutal thrusts, he finished in minutes. She clutched at his shoulders, as sudden desire began to kick in. He kept thrusting, even after he was spent, as if to deny to them both that he was done. But slowly he slid out, despite all his efforts. Jen whimpered, the sudden kick of lust inside her denied fulfillment.

  Damn it, he hadn't waited!

  When it was over, Jen slid down from her temporary perch on the hall table as he braced himself with his head against the wall, his shoulders heaving. Her breath hissed in and out, too. Jack's head snapped up.

  "Jen, did I hurt you?" Jack sounded agonized.

  "Only by finishing without me," she said. "It's all right, Jack."

  He looked at her, his hands gently smoothing her hair. She relaxed at the gentle touch. It was all right. It was Jack, after all, and he was back again.

  His head was against her neck and for a moment she felt trickles of dampness on her skin. Was that sweat or tears?

  "Jen, I wanted to kill him, I swear I did," he muttered. "The damned coward. I would have killed him, if the police hadn't shown up."

  "Then I'm glad for a lot of reasons that the police did show up when they did." Jen kissed his mouth and tasted the dried blood on his lip. "Jack, are you hurt? Did he do anything to you?"

  "I'm fine. Honey, let's go to bed." He was gentle now as he cradled her head. "I'll make it up to you and then we can sleep. I want to feel you near me. Breathing. Alive and safe. "

  "Why wouldn't I be? You saved me. My hero." She tried to laugh. She almost managed to make it sound like a joke until her voice caught. "Oh, Jack, thank you. I was—I was just so scared until you took care of it."

  "I'll be here for you, Jen, you know that." He looked very reassuring right then. "On the other hand, maybe I better enroll you in some self-defense classes. Just so you can handle things, too."

  "Some Mace or whatever it is you're allowed to buy wouldn't hurt either," Jen observed.

  They walked to the bedroom. Lovemaking was slow this time. He wanted to know all the places she had been hurt. He kissed the cheek that had started to bruise. He kissed the wrist that was sore from where she had caught herself on the table. He kissed a lot more. The kisses were very tender.

  Then he turned her on her stomach and, still caressing her, entered her from behind.

  Jen shivered—his hands were everywhere and he felt particularly large in this position.

  He felt her tremble.

  "Are you all right, sweetheart?" he asked. "Nothing hurts? Not feeling scared, are you? Do you need to see me getting inside you? You're shaking and, God knows, I don't want you to be afraid. Not of me."

  "N—no. I'm not afraid. I know it's you."

  "I like feeling you up this way, honey. I love your ass—then again your legs aren't half-bad and I can feel your breasts this way, too. Mmmm. Feels good. Better yet, if I don't see you, just feel you, I can go a lot slower. Real slow. Sometimes just looking at you gets me a little too eager and not ready to wait, you know that? That can be good. But I shouldn't have done what I did that last time. This time will be good for you. I'm going to make it really special for you. For me, too."

  She felt her wetness slicking them both, the warmth there now although she hadn't felt much from his first, desperate encounter. That last time she hadn't had the chance to become completely aroused. This was going to be different. She could feel her excitement growing as he caressed where a flood seemed to beginning. She shivered and felt her muscles contract and grip him. They both moaned.

  Still he didn't thrust wildly but continued to murmur and gently ease his way in and out of her until a lingering climax took her almost by surprise. As her climax slowly ebbed, she felt his satisfaction start. That was just right. Just what she needed. She sighed her pleasure. She wanted to feel him shaking with his climax. As he slowly ended, her eyes closed. Even then he didn't withdraw from her body. Instead, he put them both on their sides and kept his arms tight around her.

  Still joined together, both of them fell asleep.

  She heard screams as she woke up. Even more frightening, she knew the screams had come from her. Her throat felt rasped from the cries. Had she ever screamed this loudly before? It was dusk. She wasn't in the airport or in her own bed. Those were the two places she expected to be after such a vivid flashback. She was—she was in Jack's bedroom.

  It had been really bad this time. Jen sat up, shivering, the tears still on her cheeks. She tried to shut down the sobbing and shivering. It shouldn't have been so awful. Things were different this time when she woke up from the dream.

  This time there was an arm around her. It felt comforting and her shuddering subsided.

  "My God, Jen, what is it?" Jack was wide-awake next to her.

  "I have—dreams," Jen said. She realized her voice was hoarse from the screaming. She felt horrible. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Have I been screaming a long time? I'm sorry I woke you."

  "I'm not important. Forget me." Jack gripped her shoulders. "What dreams? Jen, you scared me. Was it about Jamieson or is it from before?"

  ""Before," Jen got out. "I haven't had any in weeks. Not since the two of us have been together. I thought maybe it was over. Oh, damn. When will it be?"

  "Tell me."

  "Usually it is just the same thing. Over and over. I'm in the airport, and Victor is leaving and I'm going to the hospital. Stupid, huh? I don't cry about my parents and seeing them on life support. I don't dream about having to tell the doctors it was time to take them off life support. I don't think about how Victor must have felt going down in that helicopter. It's just the airport. But in the dream I know things are going to be hell and I'm all alone."

  Jennifer thought about the new additions to the dreams and decided to say nothing about them. Just talking about the old dreams was making Jack look upset enough.

  "You've been fighting with this at night for years? And this happens often?" Jack suddenly reached out and held her. "All this and you didn't tell anyone or get help? Jen. Oh, Jen."

  "This time was more intense than any I can remember. But what kind of help can anyone be? I don't want a shrink or drugs. I just—want to get it over with." Jen shut her eyes. "I'm sick of feeling shattered. I'm not fragile."

  Oh, but you are, darling. More fragile than I knew. And hurting even more than I guessed. What can you do to solve that, Logan? So far your solution has been to get hard, get laid and ignore what must be churning in her gut. Is it because you're stupid or because you just don't want to see how much she still wants Victor?

  Gently, as if she was made of glass, he kissed her.

  "You're the toughest girl I know." He had an odd tone to his voice. "Aren't you, Slugger?"

  Jen let out a brief laugh at her old nickname, the one she had taken on when she had thought boyish nicknames might let her male buddies forget she was a girl.

  Why the hell wouldn't she still want Victor? He was the strongest, the smartest, the best looking. What the hell would she want with you if he was still around? Why wouldn't it kill her to not have him any more? Victor had always had everything he didn't, except this time he wasn't lucky enough to still be alive.

  No, Logan. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. What about Jen? She needs a little less sex and a little more tenderness. She needs care. You have to handle her. You have to act a little more sensitive, pretend you aren't the damned animal you keep turning into whenever she says she wants you. She doesn't, really. Or if she does, it isn't what she needs. Look at what happened when you jumped her. She got nightmares. She needs something you aren't, Logan. She needs a gentleman. Well, damn it. You've played that role before. For her, you can play it forever. What's the alternative? Her tears, her memories of Victor. Her leaving your ass, Logan. Once she finally gets over the whole situation that has left her vulnerable for the last few years she'll figure out what you are and decide she doesn't need it. Oh, hell, yes. You can play it her way. The alternat
ive isn't acceptable.

  "Honey, let me hold you for a little while longer. You had a really bad time of it just now." He reached out to her and she held up her hand and then shook her head.

  "Jack, I can't sleep. I feel so wired and edgy—I guess the tension of everything is just too much for me." Jen reached out tentatively. "I want more than holding. Help me sleep. Make love with me again."

  He kissed her with shiveringly exquisite care and slid his hands down to her breasts. His touch was soft. She felt as though she might float away from the bed, with the joy bursting up inside her.

  "Whatever you want, hon," he told her. "However you want it."

  He picked her up off the bed and took her into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and gently led her into the stall. She sighed, the tension gradually uncurling through her legs, her arms, and her back.

  Nothing had ever felt so right. Her head listed to the side as relaxation replaced tension. Jack helped her into the shower stall and held her with the water running over them both.

  "I'm not sure how much I can…participate here," Jen managed to get the words out. "But don't stop. Please."

  "I won't," he assured her. "You like it too much, don't you, Jen?"

  He slicked her down with soap, murmuring endearments as he did it, then he wiped her off with long, lingering strokes. Between the water's spray and his massage, Jen almost fell asleep standing up. He knelt down in front of her, still using his hands to stroke her.

  She almost didn't feel his tongue enter her, it seemed so much a part of the showering water and his gentle touch, until she realized the warmth inside her matched the warmth of the water on the outside. It felt so good, so clean, after the hurt and sweaty fear of the day.

  His gentleness was so tender, the lovemaking so careful that Jen could feel tears start again. These were good tears, though.

  When she leaned against him and climaxed, almost surprised and shaking from her release, he held her tightly. She sighed as he dried her.