something men did before they delivered very bad news, like
tonight-was-fun-but-I-met-this-new-woman-and-I’d-like-to-see-her-instead-of-you
kind of news. They always thought making a woman feel physically good a second
before they delivered the crippling blow somehow made it better. Men were so
clueless. She braced her shoulders into the mattress. “You might as well spit
it out.”
“What?”
“Whatever
horrible thing you’re going to say.”
“You
think that’s going to make it better?”
“Can’t
make it worse.” And maybe it would either get this dream over with or onto a
better version. One that had him showing her how well he knew how to use the
hard-on she could feel brushing her thigh.
“I’m
not going to like what you have to say, am I?”
“No.”
“It
has to do with why I feel that I should be afraid of you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Since
I’m halfway there, don’t you think you could throw me a bone and give me the
whole thing?”
“I’ll
think on it.”
He’d
think on it. Huh! She’d give him something to think on. Her stomach churned on
the rush of adrenaline. “I need to get to the bathroom.”
His
palm pressed on her stomach. The nausea subsided. He was definitely controlling
her body’s reactions. Her curiosity piqued. Years ago, during her journalist
period, she’d searched the country for a real healer, chased down every tabloid
rumor, hunted up every new age cult. She’d thought a piece on natural healers
would make a great story for the magazines, but she never managed to find one
whose talents she could verify. She’d come close at one cult, even believed the
quack when he’d told her she had a special energy that needed nurturing, but
when they’d started locking her door at night “for her own protection,” she’d
come to her senses. And now, she was laying next to a man who actually might
possess real healing skills . . . Excitement bloomed. It was difficult to keep
her voice even. “I’m pretty accepting of things, Caleb. I won’t freak out if
you have certain . . . abilities.”
“I’m
glad to hear it.”
“I
consider myself a very open-minded person.” Nuts, if anyone asked her family,
but he didn’t need to know that.
His
fingers massaged the aching muscles, relaxing them, soothing her body, her
fears. She placed her hand over his. “I can take whatever it is you have to
say.”
“You
really don’t know what’s good for you, do you?”
She
bet if she could see him, he’d be staring at her with his head cocked to the
side the way her brothers did whenever she’d confounded them with her brand of
logic. “Just because I don’t believe ignorance is bliss is no reason to get
insulting.”
“I’m
not being insulting.”
“No,
you’re stalling.”
“Maybe.”
“Well,
cut it out. It’s annoying and as this is my dream, I have a right not to be
annoyed.”
His
fingers stilled. “You think this is a dream?”
“It’s
too bizarre to be anything other than a figment of my subconscious.”
He
resumed his stroking. “I can see you viewing it that way.”
She
stiffened. “Was that another insult?”
“You
object to insults in your dreams, too?”
Was
that a hint of a grin coloring the inflection in his deep drawl? “Absolutely.”
“Then
no, more of a statement of the obvious. It’s logical you’d decide this is a
dream.”
“Thank
you.” Dream Caleb was much more accepting of the real her than most men of her
acquaintance. Which was only fitting. Fiction should be stranger than truth.
She placed her hand over his where it rested on her hip. “So what are you, and
why am I afraid?”
The
air between them thickened with tension.
“It’s
okay, Caleb. I can take it. Just tell me.” The subconscious was very good at
dealing with a lot of things the conscious shied away from. He cursed and then
stilled. Tension built right along with her expectation. She felt his glare,
heavier than the dark, scarier than the
tonight-was-fun-but-I-met-this-new-woman-and-I’d-like-to-see-her-instead-of-you
kind of news. They always thought making a woman feel physically good a second
before they delivered the crippling blow somehow made it better. Men were so
clueless. She braced her shoulders into the mattress. “You might as well spit
it out.”
“What?”
“Whatever
horrible thing you’re going to say.”
“You
think that’s going to make it better?”
“Can’t
make it worse.” And maybe it would either get this dream over with or onto a
better version. One that had him showing her how well he knew how to use the
hard-on she could feel brushing her thigh.
“I’m
not going to like what you have to say, am I?”
“No.”
“It
has to do with why I feel that I should be afraid of you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Since
I’m halfway there, don’t you think you could throw me a bone and give me the
whole thing?”
“I’ll
think on it.”
He’d
think on it. Huh! She’d give him something to think on. Her stomach churned on
the rush of adrenaline. “I need to get to the bathroom.”
His
palm pressed on her stomach. The nausea subsided. He was definitely controlling
her body’s reactions. Her curiosity piqued. Years ago, during her journalist
period, she’d searched the country for a real healer, chased down every tabloid
rumor, hunted up every new age cult. She’d thought a piece on natural healers
would make a great story for the magazines, but she never managed to find one
whose talents she could verify. She’d come close at one cult, even believed the
quack when he’d told her she had a special energy that needed nurturing, but
when they’d started locking her door at night “for her own protection,” she’d
come to her senses. And now, she was laying next to a man who actually might
possess real healing skills . . . Excitement bloomed. It was difficult to keep
her voice even. “I’m pretty accepting of things, Caleb. I won’t freak out if
you have certain . . . abilities.”
“I’m
glad to hear it.”
“I
consider myself a very open-minded person.” Nuts, if anyone asked her family,
but he didn’t need to know that.
His
fingers massaged the aching muscles, relaxing them, soothing her body, her
fears. She placed her hand over his. “I can take whatever it is you have to
say.”
“You
really don’t know what’s good for you, do you?”
She
bet if she could see him, he’d be staring at her with his head cocked to the
side the way her brothers did whenever she’d confounded them with her brand of
logic. “Just because I don’t believe ignorance is bliss is no reason to get
insulting.”
“I’m
not being insulting.”
“No,
you’re stalling.”
“Maybe.”
“Well,
cut it out. It’s annoying and as this is my dream, I have a right not to be
annoyed.”
His
fingers stilled. “You think this is a dream?”
“It’s
too bizarre to be anything other than a figment of my subconscious.”
He
resumed his stroking. “I can see you viewing it that way.”
She
stiffened. “Was that another insult?”
“You
object to insults in your dreams, too?”
Was
that a hint of a grin coloring the inflection in his deep drawl? “Absolutely.”
“Then
no, more of a statement of the obvious. It’s logical you’d decide this is a
dream.”
“Thank
you.” Dream Caleb was much more accepting of the real her than most men of her
acquaintance. Which was only fitting. Fiction should be stranger than truth.
She placed her hand over his where it rested on her hip. “So what are you, and
why am I afraid?”
The
air between them thickened with tension.
“It’s
okay, Caleb. I can take it. Just tell me.” The subconscious was very good at
dealing with a lot of things the conscious shied away from. He cursed and then
stilled. Tension built right along with her expectation. She felt his glare,
heavier than the dark, scarier than the
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