The Dream Unfolds

by Barbara Delinsky

  “I thought I did,” she told him in a voice as quiet as his. “We were both seniors. He was handsome and popular, full of charm and fun. I was totally snowed. We didn’t have anywhere to go, so we used to park up behind the reservoir. That’s where Jill was conceived.”

  She thought Gideon started to wince, but he caught himself. “What happened after?”

  “He didn’t want me or the baby,” she said bluntly. She’d long since passed the time when she blamed herself for that. She might have loved Brant at the time, or thought she did, but the only person Brant had loved was himself. “He denied it was his.”

  This time Gideon’s wince was for real. “What kind of selfish bastard was he?”

  Chris shrugged. “He was going to college on a scholarship and didn’t want anyone or anything to slow him down.”

  “So he left you in the lurch. You must have been furious.”

  “Furious, hurt, frightened.”

  “I’d be angry still.”

  “Why? I got the better part of the deal. I got Jill.”

  Gideon seemed momentarily stunned, as though that idea had never occurred to him. Finally, in a hoarse whisper, he said, “That’s what I think I like about you so much. You feel things. You love.”

  Chris too was stunned, nearly as much by his whispered awe as by the reverence in his eyes. Then she didn’t have time to think of either, because he lowered his head to kiss her. At least, that was what she thought he was going to do. She felt the approach of his mouth, the warmth of his breath—then he pulled back and looked at her again, and in the look, something gave inside her.

  “Do it,” she whispered, suddenly wanting his kiss more than anything else.

  His lips were smooth and firm. They touched hers lightly, rubbed them open in a back and forth caress, then, just as his hands left her arms and framed her face, came in more surely.

  Chris was overwhelmed by the warmth of the kiss, its wetness, and by Gideon’s fresh male scent that seemed to fill her and overflow. Needs that had lain dormant for better than fifteen years suddenly came to life, touching off an explosion of awareness inside her. Her limbs tingled, her heart pounded, her blood rushed hot through her veins. Feeling dizzy and hungry at the same time, she clasped fistfuls of sweater at his waist, gave a tiny moan and opened her mouth to his silent demand.

  The demand went on and on, sometimes pressing, sometimes hovering, sometimes sucking so strongly that she was sure she’d never emerge whole again. When, with several last, lingering touches, the kiss ended, she felt bereft.

  It was a minute before she realized exactly what had happened, and by that time, Gideon had his mouth pressed to her temple and his arms wrapped tightly around her. With her slow return to reality came the awareness of a fine tremor snaking through his large frame.

  “Gideon?” she whispered, shaky herself.

  “Shh,” he whispered back. “Give me a minute.”

  She knew all too well why he needed the time. She could feel the reason pressing insistently against her thigh, and while the strength of it shocked her, it also excited her beyond belief. She wanted another kiss. She wanted some touching. She wanted something even harder, something to relieve the deep ache she was feeling.

  “I knew it’d be like that,” he whispered again.

  “I didn’t know it could be.”

  He made a low, longing sound and crushed her even closer.

  “That’s not helping,” she whispered, but neither was breathing against his neck the way she was doing. His skin was firm and hot and smelled wonderfully of man.

  “I know, but I need it. I can’t let you go just yet.”

  “You’ll have to soon. Someone’s apt to come looking.”

  Raising his head, he caught her eyes. His voice remained little more than a ragged train of breath. “Know what I’d do if I had my way?” When she shook her head, he said, “I’d back you right up to that door and make love to you here and now.”

  She felt a searing heat deep in her belly and had to swallow before she could get a word out. “You can’t.”

  “Yes, I can. I’m hard. Can’t you feel?” Slipping his hands to her bottom, he manipulated her hips against his. His arousal was electrifying.

  She had to close her eyes against its force. “Don’t, Gideon,” she cried, her breath coming in shallow gusts. She lowered her forehead to his throat.

  His mouth touched her ear. “Right against that door. Then, after that, on your bed. You’ve never done it on a bed, have you?”

  “No.” She tugged at his sweater, which she was still clutching for dear life. “Don’t talk.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re making things harder.”

  “I’ll say,” he muttered with the nudge of his hips.

  Moaning against the fire that small movement sparked, she slipped her arms around his neck, drawing herself up on tiptoe, and hung on tight. Her body felt foreign but wonderful. It knew what it wanted. Her mind wasn’t so sure. “I have to get back to the house.”

  “You don’t want to.”

  “I have to.” But she moved against him, needing the friction to ease the knot between her legs.

  “You want to stay here and make love with me.”

  “Oh, Gideon!” she cried.

  “You do. I’d make it so good, baby, so good. I wouldn’t rush you, wouldn’t hurt you, and it’d be so incredibly good.” He slipped a hand from her bottom to her thigh, then moved upward and inward.

  “Don’t,” she begged, but the plea was empty. Between his words and his closeness, she was floating, then soaring, burning up from the inside out. When he touched her where she was most sensitive, she cried out, and when he began to caress her, she held on tighter to his neck.

  “You’re so hot here,” he whispered.

  “Gideon,” she moaned. “Oh, no.” She was arching into his hand, coming apart with no way to stop it.

  His stroking grew bolder. “That’s it, baby. That’s it. Feel it. Let it come.”

  She was lost. In a moment of blinding bliss, she convulsed into an orgasm that left her gasping for air. She couldn’t speak, could only make small, throaty sounds. Gradually they eased. The next sound she made was a humiliated sob. Twisting away from Gideon with such suddenness that he was taken off guard, she stumbled around the sofa and collapsed into its corner, pressing her knees together and huddling low over them.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Gideon said, reaching out to stroke her hair.

  She felt his hand and would have pulled away if there was anywhere to pull to. “That shouldn’t have happened,” she cried. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  Barely removing his hand, Gideon came around the end of the sofa and squatted close before her. “Don’t be,” he said. “I’m not. I feel so good.”

  “You can’t feel good. You didn’t … get anything.”

  “Wrong. Way wrong. I got a whole lot.” His strong hands were framing her neck, and his voice, though hoarse, was astonishingly tender. He leaned forward so that his breath brushed her cheek. “Was that the first time since—”

  She gave a sharp, quick nod against her knees.

  “The first time since Jill’s father?”

  She repeated the same sharp nod.

  “You’ve never done it yourself?”

  She kicked his leg.

  “Chris?” When she didn’t answer, he said again, “Chris?”

  Her voice was small. “What?”

  “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “But it’s true.”

  She pressed her hands to her ears and shook her head.

  Forcibly removing her hands, he raised her head until she was sitting up, looking at him. “I won’t say it again, if it makes you uncomfortable. It shakes me a little, too. We don’t know each other much, do we?”

  Unable to take her eyes from his, she gave a feeble shake of her head.

  “But there’s a
remedy for that,” he went on. “You can stop cooking up cockamamy excuses for why you can’t see me.”

  Chris pulled back as much as his hands would allow. “They’re not cockamamy excuses. This is the busiest time of the year for me. Between work and all the things I want to do with Jill—”

  “Invite me along. We don’t have to be alone all the time.”

  She made a disbelieving face. “What kind of man wants to put up with that?”

  His voice went low and husky again. “The kind of man who knows his woman is made of fire. As long as I know it’s coming, I can wait.”

  Chris felt her cheeks go red. “I won’t ever live that down, will I?”

  “Not if I can help it. It was the most beautiful, most sensual, most natural and spontaneous response I’ve ever experienced with a woman.”

  She had to look away. His eyes were too intense. Very softly she said, “You’ve been with lots of women, haven’t you?”

  “Over the years? Enough.” He paused. “But if it’s the health thing that’s got you worried, don’t be. I’ve always used a rubber. Always. For birth control, as much as anything. I’m clean, Chris.”

  Focusing on a cable twist in his sweater, she murmured. “I wasn’t worried about that.” She was actually worried about the issue of experience, because, other than with Brant, she was very much without.

  “I don’t want to use anything with you.”

  Her eyes shot to his. “You have to. I don’t have—I’m not taking—”

  His mouth cut off the words, kissing her gently, then less gently, before he regained control and drew up his head. “If you got pregnant by me, I wouldn’t run away. I’d want you and the baby and Jill and your family. I’d marry you in a minute.”

  Chris was having trouble breathing again. “This conversation is very premature.”

  “Just so you know how I feel.”

  “How can you feel that way so soon?”

  “Beats me, but I do.”

  “I think you’re getting carried away on some kind of fantasy.”

  “No fantasy. Just you.”

  How was she supposed to answer that? She swallowed. “I have to get back to the house.”

  Gideon sat on his heels. “I’m staying till the party’s over. Can we talk more then?”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe we should let things cool off a little.”

  “It won’t help. The fire’s there, whether we’re together or not. It’s there even when I sleep. I had a wet dream last night—”

  “Gideon, for goodness’ sakes!”

  “I did.”

  “But don’t tell me.”

  “Why not?” he asked reasonably. “I know damned well you’re going to think back on what happened here and be embarrassed, and I just want you to know that you’re not the only one who loses control sometimes. You had far more reason to than I did, what with the way I was touching you—”

  She pressed a hand to his mouth. “Please,” she begged in a whisper, “don’t say another word.” She waited. He was silent. She moved her fingers very lightly over his lips. “I’m going to get up now and go back to the house. If you’d like, you can come, too. You can talk with people—Jessica and Carter may be here by now—or even watch the game if it isn’t over.”

  “The Lakers come on next,” he murmured against her fingers.

  “Okay. The Lakers. My brothers will be watching. You can get something to eat and stay as long as you want, but I can’t go out with you afterward. I want to help my mother clean up. Then I want to spend some time with Jill. Then I want to go to bed. Tomorrow’s as busy as Mondays get.” Her hand slid from his mouth to the shirt collar that rose above the crew neck of his sweater.

  “What’s on for tomorrow night?”

  “I have deliveries to supervise until eight.”

  “So Jill will be here with your folks?”

  “She has Driver Ed on Monday nights. I’ll pick her up on my way home.”

  “What about supper?”

  “I’ll grab something when I get home.”

  “Why don’t I pick up Chinese and stop by your office?”

  “Because I won’t be at my office.”

  “So I’ll go where you are.”

  “You can’t. Not with food. My clients would die.”

  “Okay. What about Tuesday night? No, forget Tuesday night. I have a game.” His eyes lit up. “Come see me play.”

  For an instant, he was so eager that she actually wished she could. But the logistics wouldn’t work. “In Worcester?”

  “Too far, hmm?”

  “And I have ballet.”

  “Okay. What’s on for Wednesday night?”

  “Jill’s piano recital.”

  “I’ll come.”

  “You will not. She’s nervous enough at recitals without having to worry about her mother’s new boyfriend showing up.”

  Gideon grinned. “New boyfriend. I like that. It’s better than the builder.” His grin vanished. “But I won’t make her nervous. She likes me.”

  “She likes you here, now, today. That’s because you’re one of lots of people coming to party. She’s apt to be threatened when she realizes something’s going on between us.”

  “She already does. And she won’t be threatened. She likes me. Besides, she wants you to date. She told me so.”

  “She told you?”

  “Yes.”

  Chris felt just the slightest bit betrayed. “What else did she tell you?”

  “Not much. You came along before she had a chance. But, damn it, Chris, we haven’t settled anything here. When can I see you again? We’re up to Thursday.”

  “Thursday’s no good. I have ballet again, and then we’re going shopping.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  But she shook her head. Last-minute Christmas shopping was something that had become almost traditional with Jill and her. Chris wasn’t ready to let someone else intrude.

  “Okay,” Gideon said, “that brings us to the weekend, and to Christmas Eve. So are you inviting me over, or what?”

  Chris didn’t know what to do. Christmas Eve, then Christmas Day were every bit as personal and special and traditional for the whole family as last-minute shopping was for Jill and her alone.

  “Jill said you should,” he reminded her.

  “Jill was out of line.”

  “What are all your plans?”

  “Dinner, caroling, then Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, and a huge meal on Christmas Day.”

  “Is it all just family?”

  “No,” Chris answered truthfully. “Friends come, too.” She sighed and sent him a beseeching look. “But this is happening too fast, Gideon. Can’t we slow it down?”

  “Some things won’t be slowed down—like what happened a little while ago.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “What are you afraid of, Chris? What’s holding you back?”

  She had asked herself the same question more than once in recent weeks. Slowly she opened her eyes and met his. “Being hurt. I’m afraid of that. Jill may be the highlight of my life, but what Brant did hurt. I got over it. I came back and built a life, and I think I’ve been a great mother. Things are going smoothly. I don’t want that to change.”

  “Not even for the better?”

  “I don’t need things to be better.”

  The look on Gideon’s face contradicted her even before he spoke. “I think you do. There’s a closeness only a man can give that I think you crave. It’s like the way you held my hand back at the house, and the way you came apart before, even the way you’re touching me right now.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are. Look at your hand.”

  Chris did. Her hand was folded over his collar, her fingers against the warm skin on the inside. Very carefully she removed them and put her hand into her lap. “I didn’t know I was doing that,” she said meekly.

  “Like I didn’t know what was happening until I w
oke up panting this morning. There’s something to be said for the subconscious. It’s more honest than we are sometimes.”

  He had a point, she supposed. She could deny that she wanted him, deny that she wanted any kind of relationship, but it wouldn’t be the truth. Still, despite his arguments, she meant what she’d said about slowing things down.

  “New Year’s Eve,” she said, focusing on her lap. “You probably already have plans—”

  “I don’t, and I accept. What would you like to do? We can work around Jill’s plans or your family’s plans. Just tell me. I’m open.”

  Hesitantly she raised her eyes. “Jill is going to a party at a friend’s house. I have to drop her there, then pick her up. She’s bringing two other friends home for a sleep-over.”

  “A sleep-over? Wow, that’d be fun!”

  “Gideon, you’re not invited to the sleep-over.”

  “So what do I get?”

  “Four hours, while she’s at the party. We could go somewhere to eat, maybe dance. Or we could go to First Night.”

  “First Night is loud and cold and crowded. I vote for the other.”

  “We may have trouble getting reservations this late.”

  “I don’t want reservations. I want to eat here.”

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I didn’t invite you to eat here.”

  “But it makes sense, doesn’t it?” he argued. “Go to a restaurant on New Year’s Eve, and it’s crowded and overpriced and slow. You’ll be nervous about getting back in time, so you won’t be able to relax. On the other hand, if we eat here, we can talk all we want. We really need to do that, Chris, just talk. Besides, if we go somewhere fancy, I’ll have to go shopping. You’ve already seen the sum total of my fancy wardrobe, and I hate shopping. Don’t make me do it, not until after Christmas at least.”

  “If you hate shopping, why did you offer to go with Jill and me?”

  “Because that would be fun. It’s shopping for me that I hate.”

  She was bemused. “Why?”

  “Because it’s so damned hard to get things that fit. I’m broad up here, and long down there, so things have to be tailored, which means having some salesclerk feel me up.”

  She sputtered out a laugh. “That’s terrific.”