Her awareness of just how they were lying in the bed—groin to groin—gave her another flash of heat. Or was that longing? She could feel him through his pants, resting against her needy bundle of nerves. Her attention narrowed more and more until the only thing she could think about, the only thing she could feel was him right there, right where she wanted him.
She tried to hold still, not to move, not to disturb what was already the best moment of her waking life, but her body had other intentions. Excruciatingly slow, so she didn’t wake him, she rocked her hips forward and back, rubbing against him. Instead of offering any satisfaction, need blazed brighter. If she didn’t stop, she’d end up dry humping him in his sleep.
But then he pressed his hips forward, grinding into her. She gasped, nearly choking on air. What she’d thought had been pleasure went into pure bliss. Her dreams had always seemed so real, but they were old-timey black-and-white while this was vivid Technicolor, 3-D, HD, and surround sound all in one. His hand found its way underneath the back of her shirt, traveling up her side until it was just a whisper away from her breast. Breathing was too much of a distraction, so she didn’t do it, all her attention focused on him and his hand.
He stopped.
“Don’t. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” She wasn’t ashamed to be begging. Not for this. Being with Xander was compensation—no it was a reward—for everything she’d endured. He was her rainbow after the destructive tornado that had been her life. Being with him would be a weapon against her past. It would be something she chose. Something she wanted.
“Isleen…” Her name was a languid caress of vowels and consonants, but underneath the sound there was something… Hesitation? Reluctance?
“Why did you stop?” Part of her wanted to pull away from him, to see the look on his face as he answered her question, but she was too much of a coward. If this was all she’d ever have of him, she was going to soak it up and store it in her mind.
“Baby, we just met.”
“I’ve known you for years.” As crazy as it made her sound, she couldn’t not say the thoughts in her mind. “I dreamed about you.” She whispered the words against his neck, still not moving away from him.
“Is that how you knew my name?”
“Yes.”
“Were they good dreams?”
Oooohhhh, yyeeeaaahhh. They’d always had a happy ending, courtesy of his skill as a lover. Not that she was ever going to tell him about all her sex dreams of them together. Naked. Hot. Sweaty. And sweet. So achingly sweet she’d fallen a little deeper for him after each dream.
“Tell me”—Xander pulled back from her, dipping his head down to look into her eyes—“fucking tell me they were good dreams.”
His eyes were an autumnal set of colors—brown near the pupil, fading to gold, surrounded by deep green. Fall was her favorite season.
“Fucking Christ, tell me.” The words sounded angry, but his tone overflowed with regret and apology. “Were they good dreams?”
When he used that tone, she had to answer him. “The best dreams of my life.” Hunger and thirst for him was so prominent in her voice he’d have to be deaf to not know what she meant.
He relaxed against the pillow, facing her. “Thank God.”
“You don’t think that’s weird? That I sound crazy?”
“Weird is relative. I…”—he winced and closed his eyes—“I’ve heard you inside my head for years.” He opened his eyes and she saw something deep inside them, something she didn’t have a name for, something that looked painful.
“It’s okay if you had the dreams too. I’m glad.” From the moment she’d opened her eyes in that room and realized Xander was really there to take her away from all the suffering, she’d known they were connected in a way that defied normalcy.
“No, it wasn’t dreams.” His hand, still on her ribs, squeezed, holding her tight as if she might try to move away from him and he didn’t want that. Apology shone in his eyes. “I heard you… Holy Christ, I heard you inside my head begging for help. Begging me to find you. Only I thought—fuck—I thought you were a hallucination. I didn’t know you were real. I thought I was insane.”
Her heart halted its beats and hung limp inside her chest like a discarded plastic bag snagged on a tree limb. How many times had she cried for his help? Pleaded for him save her? To end her suffering? More than she could count.
He watched her, his gaze doing more than just taking in her response to his words. He was sorry and trying to understand everything she’d been through. There was no understanding, no rationalizing. Nothing was going to make what happened to her and Gran all right. The buried memories, all the things she never wanted to remember, threatened to stage a resurrection. No. She wasn’t going to let the past steal her sanity and revoke her new reality.
Not now.
Not ever.
She took every word, every syllable he’d just uttered and planted them directly in the grave of memories.