Out of Her Dreams

by Fran Lee

  She wanted the kind of love others seemed to have found.

  “Let’s go see what we can find to do upstairs, hmmm?” His voice was a purr of desire and she shivered slightly as she felt his warm breath against her temple.

  “You have a wonderful sense of timing, David. But can we just walk for a while?”

  “Walk? Walk where? This is New York City, after midnight. No one walks in New York City after midnight, unless they have a death wish.” He gazed at her quizzically.

  “Oh well. If New York even scares Chance Braza, I guess we’ll just go upstairs and fool around some more.” She sounded tired.

  He frowned down at her. That wasn’t exactly the response he had expected. Although her lips had said the words, he sensed instantly that she didn’t mean them.

  She wasn’t interested in going back upstairs to bed and enjoying sex again tonight? He swallowed hard. A sudden sense of foreboding filled him. He’d pushed too damn hard. Had demanded too damn much. But she had enjoyed it too-hadn’t she? Or had he just imagined her responses? He stared down at her bent head and felt as if the floor had just dropped out from under his feet. He pressed the button for the elevator and ground his teeth to keep from cursing aloud.

  Here he was, with a hard-on from hell, breathing like a steam locomotive and ready to tear his clothes off and throw her onto the bed. He drew a couple of deep, calming breaths and did his damnedest to get his mind and body back out of the zone. That was way easier said than done but when they finally stepped out of the elevator, he was able to walk the short distance to their suite door and slide his card key through the slot and open the door quietly, allowing her to step into the airy suite before following her.

  She moved into the center of the sitting room and sank onto the antique divan, her head in her hands.

  “You okay, Sam? What’s wrong?” He stepped up beside her and dropped to his haunches, his face level with hers. He almost didn’t dare to touch her but he gently slid his hand over her slim back and let it rest there without forcing the more sensual caresses his body craved. Needed. Desperately.

  Sam swallowed hard. Her mind was a jumble of disjointed thoughts. She hadn’t been able to write a cohesive sentence in months and here she had the opportunity of a lifetime. She had been so damn immersed in the sensual pleasure of David’s desire for her, she had forgotten that living the dream left little room for trying to imagine anything more.

  She felt his fingertips on the soft silk of her dress, toying with the zipper at her back, and she closed her eyes. The closeness of his body was enough to make her forget her own needs. The sound of his voice was enough to melt her resolve. And the gentle caress of those strong fingers was enough to send her to the stars. She wanted to turn into his arms and forget everything. But that was all she’d done for months now.

  Tonight had made her realize that she was on a wonderful, crazily tilting carousel. One that would stop shortly and leave her in the dust while her emotions were left scattered and tangled in pain and rejection.

  She so desperately wanted more than just this marvelous sexual gratification. She wanted so very much more. She wanted him to see her as a woman he could love, could be with forever. But all he saw was the way she responded so pathetically quickly to everything he said and did. He would never see her as anything but a willing, eager bed partner.

  He didn’t see the loving, gentle person inside the wild, sex-crazed nymphomaniac in his bed. He saw nothing of the resourceful, independent woman who had forged a great career out of nothing and who had her own life outside his bedroom. He saw a woman who was pathetically willing. And pathetically eager. Pathetically in love.

  She had been so damn cowardly to have agreed to this farce. Too cowardly to simply tell him she loved him, afraid that he would feel disgust that she had begun to cling. She should have paid the lawsuit if it took all that she owned. At least she would not now be facing the total collapse of her little bubble of happiness. But she had taken the cowardly way. Now she was stuck in a fruitless situation with no way out except to beg him to let her go.

  He had told her that women gravitated to him like bees to a honeypot. He was right about that. They swarmed to him. He would have no trouble whatsoever forgetting about her. But she dreaded the moment when she would walk out that door and never see him again, except on TV or in the movies. For she had fallen desperately in love with her temporary “husband” and the thought of meaning nothing more to him than mindless sex left her hurting and frightened.

  She calmed her thoughts with difficulty and raised a face streaming with tears and whispered huskily, “Just hold me, David.”

  His gut tightened painfully at the sight of her tear-streaked face and the lost look in those emerald eyes. There was no glittering light of desire in her eyes. There was no vibrant sound of wanting in that sad, trembling voice. Only a complete lack of energy. He had noticed the way she had begun to sag at the party under the constant barrage of business and promises. He should have gotten her out of that fucking party sooner.

  “Let me help you out of that dress and get you something to drink. You look frazzled.” His voice was uncertain and quiet.

  “Will you just hold me, David? I just want to feel your arms around me. I feel safe in your arms.”

  He rose and extended his hand. She took it slowly as she stood up and he gently wrapped his muscular arms around her, burying his face in the softly piled mass of copper atop her head. “Is this better?” he breathed quietly.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Talk to me, Sam. Is it something I did?” He felt suddenly frightened. Helpless.

  “No.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt.

  “Is it something I didn’t do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He drew a deep breath. “I’ve been too damn possessive. I haven’t given you your space.”

  “Shut up and just hold me.”

  He obeyed, enfolding her gently in his embrace and closing his eyes as he felt her small hands move so gently and tantalizingly over his back. He swallowed as he felt her lips moving against his throat as she whispered, “Make love to me, David. Like you did that very first time. Make me forget who I am and who you are and take me back to the stars.”

  He swung her into his arms and walked into the bedroom and set her gently back on her feet. He kissed her mouth slowly, gently deepening the kiss until she was panting with desire. He shrugged out of his jacket and bent slowly to slide her silken panties from her, before unzipping and gently lifting her and wrapping her thighs about his hips, fitting himself to her entrance with a need that frightened even him.

  He lifted her so that he could slip her sweetly delightful body over his hard, aching cock, closing his eyes with ecstasy as he buried himself deep inside her tight, hot sheath.

  He struggled to maintain his calm. She was so fucking ready. He felt her body enclosing him, felt her tighten about him as she climaxed with a gasping moan of delight. Yet he held back. He paid exquisite attention to detail as he carefully replayed their first time together, his eyes locking with hers in fevered need as she seemed to be asking him for something. Something he could not fathom. He urged her from climax to climax, knowing her body well and understanding the way she responded.

  He lowered his mouth to her breast through the clinging silk and he drew the erect nipple into his mouth, swirling his hot tongue around the taut peak. He felt her body arch and clamp tight about him as she clung to his head and panted with her release. And when he finally allowed himself to empty into her trembling body, he could not stand without leaning against the wall, dragging in deep gasps of air.

  He held her to his body for several minutes as they calmed themselves. He said nothing but used his free hand to unzip the silk dress and drag it off over her head. She wore no bra. He swallowed hard as she unbuttoned his dress shirt and shoved it back from his body with slow, loving hands. He held her eyes as she ran her palms over his chest, caressed his nipples and then
reached for his belt and released his slacks to drop about his ankles.

  He watched the glazed expression of delight in those green eyes and wanted to make her forget about ever leaving him. Make her want him badly enough to stay with him. He bent his head slowly to caress her mouth again, stroking her eager tongue as she closed her eyes and opened to him. He willed her to open her eyes.

  He lifted his face from hers and said shakily, “I don’t plan on fading out of this dream anytime soon, Sam.” And he slowly rekindled the fire that still burned hotly within both of them.

  He held her close as they slept. She had seemed somehow…distant. Panic welled inside him for the first time in months. Her lovemaking had somehow seemed almost like a goodbye. It was nothing he could put a finger on. She had enjoyed his attentions as she always had. But she acted almost as if she didn’t plan to be around much longer. And that was unacceptable. She had promised him six months. It had only been three. She owed him three more. Right?

  But her words, the way she looked at him, the way she had clung to him and sobbed when she thought he was asleep, scared the shit out of him. Had he pushed her too hard? Had he burned her out? Had he made her grow tired of him? He had never felt so lost before. So uncertain. Maybe he needed to stop treating her like she was a blow-up doll and back off a little. Maybe let her have some breathing space?

  That thought made him shiver. What if she decided he wasn’t what she wanted? What if she decided she didn’t need him around anymore? Maybe she had gotten tired of him constantly pawing her. Wanting her. Needing her. He was so fucking pathetic.

  He buried his mouth in her fragrant copper curls and closed his eyes. No. He had to make her want to stay. And he wouldn’t let her off the hook. No matter what.

  Sam lay awake in the tight circle of his arms. She knew she couldn’t go on like this much longer. She was addicted to the man but her addiction was unhealthy for both of them. There was no way she could write another word when all she wanted was to be in his arms, in his bed, every time he looked at her. It had been a mistake to come to New York. She would fly back to Chicago tomorrow, while he was busy. She would figure out what she needed to do when she got there. But she could not-would not-just continue on as his plaything. This was killing her spirit. Killing her heart. No matter how much she wanted to be with him, this couldn’t continue. She was a living, breathing person, not a toy.

  Yes. Tomorrow she would leave. She would figure it out as she went. Tonight she had made love as if there was no tomorrow. And there wouldn’t be.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Phyllis finished reading the rough draft of the final novel in the series and she turned her eyes to Sam’s face. “You have made him so damn real, I almost orgasmed reading this. I am amazed that this only took you nine weeks. You’ve been like a woman possessed.” She sat up and packed the pages back into the manuscript container. Her eyes slid over Sam’s slender body hunched by the window.

  “What are you going to do about him?” Her voice was quiet. “I can’t keep putting him off. Sooner or later he’s going to come flying through my door with a battering ram looking to drag you back home. He’s almost a nutcase over you just up and disappearing like that. Anyone can tell he’s crazy over you.”

  Sam shrugged, looking out the window of her apartment at the traffic several floors below. Snowball wound his body around her ankles, plaintively asking for the attention that she seldom seemed capable of giving him nowadays. She relented and bent to scoop him from the floor, hugging him to her as he purred contentedly.

  She met Phyllis’ gaze and said quietly, “I realized that I had to back away from the dream to make it a reality in print. I had no choice.” She bent to kiss Snowball’s satiny nose. “I genuinely don’t think I’m going to be able to write that screenplay, Phyl. It will mean working with him too closely. I can’t do that.”

  “I think he deserves an explanation of why you took off, Sam. Give the man a chance, for God’s sake. Shit. Most women would be running back as fast as their little feet could carry them. He wants you back.”

  “It doesn’t matter what he wants. He got everything from me that he wanted. By now he should be as happy as a clam. He has a fat contract to make the first two movies from the series and he’s in negotiations for the rest. My life is my own again. I can actually do things on my own without having him constantly hanging on me. Constantly wanting me in bed.” She swallowed hard.

  Phyllis shook her head and put the manuscript down. “You never were a good liar, Sam. You are crazy in love with him. Oh, why the hell won’t you just admit it and go see him again? He’s called nearly every day for the past two months. He only stopped when you told him to leave you alone.” The woman gave a sound of disgust. “If that man wanted me-”

  Sam closed her eyes and raised her hand. “Go get him, with my compliments. He is overwhelmingly possessive and unfailingly horny. You will love it for the first little while but after a few months, it wears sort of thin!” Liar!

  Phyllis glared at her star writer. “My God, girl. You are the most stubborn, bullheaded, asinine female ever to draw breath!” She reached for her coat and purse and walked to the door. “I’ll send Carl over to pick up the finished draft. And as for the script and the screenplay, you are under no obligation to write it. They only asked you to do it. We haven’t contracted you.”

  Sam stared out the window at the traffic far below.

  Snowball meowed again. She glanced at him and frowned.

  “Not you too? Does everyone but me think he’s the greatest thing since the powdered sugar donut?”

  The cat glared at her indignantly and gave a low yowl of irritation.

  “I don’t need this from you, as well as from her. If you want to take his side, I’ll gladly ship you off to him in Chicago. I thought you hated him.”

  The cat wriggled out of her grasp and hit the floor at a run, leaving her staring after him. “Okay, just be that way. See if I buy you that canned stuff you like so well. It’s dry food for you, you little fur-ball turncoat.”

  She sank down onto the armchair beside her and rested her head in her hands. Things were just too damn complicated. After that last night with David, she had put herself on a flight back to Chicago, where she had made arrangements to return to her own apartment in Cleveland. By the time he had returned from the New York trip, she was gone. Completely. Moved-Left-No-Address.

  She had written him a long letter. Had left it on his pillow. She grimaced in pain at the thought. She had told him that she couldn’t write while she was with him. That she needed her space. That she didn’t want to hurt him but she just couldn’t stand the sort of relationship he expected of her. She had offered to pay him whatever he wanted to end the sham of their “arrangement”. She had no intention of coming back. Ever. He should not bother to try to find her. She simply wanted to be her own person once again.

  The only things she had taken with her were a pair of earrings he had given her and the clothes she had brought from Cleveland. All the other things he had bought for her were left in Chicago.

  She had changed her phone to an unlisted number but he had Phyllis’, so he had called her business manager constantly. Threatened. Cajoled. But Phyl, bless her soul, had simply told him she would pass along the messages. She had never given him her address.

  The apartment was not under her current legal name. She had leased it under the name Samantha Drake. Drake had been her stepfather’s name. She hadn’t legally changed her name back to Hastings until she had begun writing the series.

  He would never find her unless she wanted to be found and, right at the moment, she didn’t.

  “What are we gonna do, sweetie?” She rubbed her face with numb hands and shook her head. “I hoped he would learn to love me. He was only interested in a thrilling bed partner. Hell, I shouldn’t be telling you all this. You’re way too young to have to deal with man-woman problems.” She lifted her eyes to see Snowball yawning at her from across the room.


  The cat sauntered slowly across the carpet to leap lightly onto her knees and settle down in her lap, purring loudly. Sam smiled at him and rubbed his ears. “Sorry about being nasty, sweetie. I just miss him so damn much.”

  The cat gave a capacious yawn and licked his fur carefully. A moment later, he was licking her hand and purring even more loudly. She grinned at him and said softly, “You always know how to talk me out of the doldrums, sweetie.”

  But now she had to figure out how to get her life back on track. Alone. Without some sex-crazed hunk dragging her into bed every time she turned around. Damn. She clenched her fists to keep from reaching for the frigging phone for the twentieth time today. What a wuss. Why the hell was it so damn hard to get through a day without a man fix? She felt like a recovering addict.

  But recovering from an addiction to David Chance was not going to be easy. He ran through her thoughts and dreams every time she closed her eyes or tried to sleep. At times she could almost feel his lips on her skin, his hands on her body. She would drop off to sleep and come awake a few hours later after having had the most amazingly sensuous dreams-wild, orgasmic dreams that made her crazy to just hear the sound of his voice again. Even after over two months, she could still remember the scent of his flesh, the feel of his smooth, hot skin sliding against hers as he made love to her.

  She shook herself back to reality and bit her lip. No. She had to get him out of her system. Out of her dreams.

  Fat chance of that.

  * * * * *

  “When the hell are you gonna just go up there and drag her ass back here?” Victor Mulvayne frowned at him from across the room as he poured himself a large brandy.