by Jessi Gage
What a fool.
He untangled himself from the blanket, peeled off his sweat-soaked t-shirt, and stood with difficulty. The aftereffects of adrenaline made his legs quake. Forcing one foot in front of the other, he reached his bedroom door and threw it open. Something heavy scraped across the floor as the door brushed it aside. Judging by its heft, it must have been his lamp. He swiped a hand over the switch on the wall to turn on the overhead light.
Blinking against the brightness, he focused on the bed. There she was, kneeling on top of his mussed sheets, pressing a bruised hand over her mouth. His dream girl.
His breath rushed out in relief.
She had porcelain pale skin with freckles at the tops of her shoulders. Auburn hair framed her fresh, twenty-something face and fell in waves behind her back. Her dark blue, sleeveless shirt matched the color of her eyes, and the color of his new bedroom curtains. The cuff of her white shorts hugged her ivory thighs a hand’s span from her knees. Her wide eyes swam with concern.
Her hand fell away from her mouth, revealing full, perfect lips. “That was louder than I thought it would be. I’m sorry. I was trying to wake you up. Are you okay?” She bit her lip, insecure. Her gaze wandered down his bare chest, and her eyes grew even wider before snapping back up to meet his. Pink rushed to her cheeks.
The shy heat in her eyes chased away the lingering terror of the nightmare. It also made him instantly hard.
He was an idiot for being afraid of this gentle creature. And he’d be a double idiot if he didn’t have her in his arms in the next heartbeat. In two strides, he reached the bed, pulled her to his chest and kissed her.
Sensual fire ignited in his stomach as he took her lips.
Her arms went around him, her fingers clinging to the bare skin of his back, and he almost lost his mind.
Lust and a primal urge to possess pushed him to deepen the kiss. With one hand, he cupped her head, holding her in place while he delved into her mouth and took the comfort he’d denied himself by shutting her inside his room.
A horrible thought struck him and he reeled back from the kiss, pulling a moan of protest from her. He snatched up her hands. Both had fresh, red bruises across the knuckles. The joints were swollen and looked painful. He turned her hands over, and her palms were red, too.
“Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”
“It’s nothing.” She tried to pull her hands from his grasp, but he didn’t let them go.
She’d been banging on the door, trying to get out. Trying to get to him. She’d been so determined she’d injured herself. Because of his cowardice. His throat closed with self-loathing.
“It’s nothing,” she said more forcefully. She twisted her wounded hands out of his and placed them on either side of his jaw. Her hot palms branded his guilt onto his face. “You look exhausted. You didn’t get enough sleep last night, and unless you get back to sleep soon, it’ll be the same tonight. Why don’t you lie down and get some rest? I can watch over you now.”
Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but guilt assaulted him, not just for trapping her in his room tonight, but for last night, too. She’d given him amazing pleasure without asking for anything in return. The sweet, sexy thing had been panting and grinding on top of him, kissing him with hot abandon. That he’d left her like that without returning the sexual favor then treated her the way he had in the morning made him sick to his stomach. And despite it all, she wanted to watch over him so he could get some sleep.
He owed her an apology. And an orgasm. And he wouldn’t waste a single second by going to sleep. If what she’d said this morning was true, he’d only have her until five AM or so.
It was almost midnight. That gave him a little more than half the night to make up for what an ass he’d been.
“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. It’s time for me to give you what you need.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheeks. Alternating between kisses and swipes of his thumbs, he smoothed away the faint lines of distress on her face.
“I don’t need anything,” she said, surrendering to his touch. He bit back a grin at the breathy desire in her voice. “Just to know you’re okay.”
“Well, I’m not okay,” he whispered against her lips. Then he kissed her softly. Jesus, he could kiss her all night. Between tender pecks that had their lips clinging with breath-stealing friction, he said, “I have this heavy weight on my conscience, and I’ll never be able to sleep unless I get it off.”
Her eyes drifted closed as her lips joined in the sensual dance. When he gave a little lick to those lush, pillowy lips, her tongue flicked out in answer.
“Get what off?” she asked innocently, her mind clearly wandering from the conversation.
He loved that he could muddle her concentration with a simple kiss. Chuckling, he said, “You’ll see,” and set to righting his many wrongs.
* * * *
Derek’s mouth moved over DG’s, and tingles spread from her center to her fingers and toes. His lips were insistent but mostly closed, his embrace sure but gentle. The kiss was honest and contrite, almost like an apology, and yet the arrogant masculinity that was pure Derek rode underneath. The tenderness of it took her breath away, and the dominance in it ignited her body.
Suddenly, she wasn’t as concerned about his rest as she’d been a few minutes ago. She could think of more productive things for him to do than sleep, such as kissing her some more, and letting her be his dream girl in truth.
She parted her lips, inviting him to deeper intimacy. She needed him to help her forget her dread of the fog and her uncertainty in this strange existence. But he pulled away.
She growled in protest, but the look on his face made her forget her disappointment. It was soft with affection. And pained. What had he been saying before he’d kissed her and destroyed any semblance of intelligent thought? Something about a heavy weight?
“I’m sorry,” he said, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles.
“Sorry?” she repeated, still dazed from Derek’s kiss.
He climbed off the bed and left the room.
“No!” She leaped after him, her body strung tight with panic. She couldn’t bear to become separated from him again.
At her cry, he stopped in the doorway and turned back to the bed.
She bounced off his hard chest. Stumbling back, she caught herself and said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Shit. Where’d you go? Are you still here? Please, still be here.” His frantic gaze searched the room. He gripped the doorframe so hard the wood creaked. She was standing right in front of him and he couldn’t see her. Nor had he felt her run into him, apparently.
Somewhat appeased to know he wasn’t running away from her, she hopped back up on the bed.
He instantly pinned her with his gaze. Relief softened his features. “It’s true.” His voice was quiet with wonder. “You really do disappear when you get off the bed.”
“Please don’t leave me.” Seeing evidence of the weirdness might push him too far. “Whatever I did to upset you, I’m sorry.”
He closed the space between them. Gripping her shoulder, he said, “Don’t apologize to me, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the asshole. And I’m trying to make it better.” He stepped back from the bed and held out a stop-hand. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back. I promise.” He backed out of the room, imploring her to trust him with sincere brown eyes and a disarming grin.
Seeing him walk away left an empty hole in the pit of her stomach, but she stayed put like he’d asked, finding comfort in the sounds of his footfalls as he moved through the living room and into the kitchen. He was back in less than a minute and had something blue in his hands.
“Ice pack,” he said, climbing on the bed and sitting with his back against the wall, where a headboard would be if he had one. He held out an arm to her, and she wasted no time settling beside him. Her whole body melted with a feeling of peace. Touching him was her heaven. Being separated from him, her
hell.
He made sure a pillow cushioned her back. Curling one arm around her, he patted her lap and said, “Put your hands here.” When she did, he draped a thin towel over the backs of her hands and rested the ice pack on top. The cold seeped through the towel to soothe her painful knuckles.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said even though the gesture was like an injection of cozy joy straight to her heart.
He nuzzled the side of her head. “Yes, I did.” He sighed through his nose, a sound of self-incrimination.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she insisted.
“Yes. It was. I was a coward. And an ass. Unwilling to see what was right in front of me.”
She leaned forward, offended he could possibly think he’d done anything wrong. “You did what any sane person would do. It’s not normal to have strangers appear out of nowhere in the middle of your bedroom.”
“You have a point,” he conceded. “But it’s not like you sprang yourself on me. I had plenty of opportunities to figure out you were here. I was just being dense. Can you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” It was sweet he thought he owed her an apology, but she was eager to get back to the kissing. Her gaze kept darting to the clock, which insisted on counting down her time with him.
“Hush. Let me do this,” he said, placing a finger over her lips. When he continued, he traced that finger down her chin and throat and dragged it across her collarbone, making her shiver all over. Okay, she could handle him apologizing as long as he had other things in mind, too. “When I thought you were imaginary, it didn’t bother me to…” He forced air out his nose and cupped her cheek. “Use you like I did last night.”
She gasped. “Use me? How was that using me? I practically jumped you. I should have been more sensitive—you’d just had a terrible dream, and there I was, kissing you and grabbing you. I should be asking your forgiveness.”
He pinched her lips closed. His eyes twinkled with mischief, but sobered as he said, “Sweetheart, there was nothing wrong with what you did to me. Nothing. I only wish I had returned the favor. It’s an oversight I plan to correct. Now.”
He lowered his mouth to hers and paused a breath away. Their eyes locked. Everything from her lips to the soft place between her legs plumped up in anticipation of the wicked promises in his gaze. He attacked her mouth with a growl.
Nothing like the apologetic kiss from before, this kiss demanded. It took. This kiss was the best thing to happen to her ever, and that had to include whatever she’d experienced before the fog. The ice pack forgotten, she twined her arms around his neck.
He withdrew only enough to change his angle and seal their open mouths more perfectly.
That second of separation had her gasping his name.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, and he hauled her onto his lap, encouraging her to straddle him.
She held on for dear life while he ravaged her mouth. Liquid heat gathered between her legs, and every feminine part of her ached to be fondled. The fog could not have her back until she’d known the entirety of Derek. Maybe it was the stress of the situation talking, but he felt like her destiny. He felt like hers.
Keeping their bodies smashed together with one strong arm, Derek flipped her onto her back. His weight on top of her was the sweetest security, his hot, wet kisses the deepest comfort.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling their pelvises into alignment.
He tore his mouth from hers to trail kisses down her throat while he worked the buttons down the front of her shirt. “Let’s get you out of these clothes, sweetheart.”
Yes, yes, she thought, but it came out as a desperate mewling sound.
He chuckled, but the smirk dropped from his face when he exposed her lacy, white bra. “Beautiful.”
Was she? She still didn’t know what she looked like.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to tug him down for more of those fantastic kisses.
His smirk returned. “Oh, no you don’t. This is my show now, and I want to put my mouth somewhere else.”
If his words didn’t send her body into sensual shock, his hungry gaze certainly did as he focused on the skin and lace he’d exposed. She couldn’t believe she was the object of such intensity. It should frighten her, but it filled her with confidence, instead. That confidence guiding her, she ran her hands along his toned arms and shoulders. Nothing in this strange existence, not even comforting him through his nightmares, compared to petting him like this and watching his breath catch and his face relax at her touch.
She did something to him. Having that kind of power over this intimidating man was worth every long, lonely minute of the fog. Maybe it was even worth dying for.
She forgot the fog, forgot the clock, forgot every anxiety that had plagued her these strange few days as Derek put his mouth to work where his gaze had roamed. While he explored her with lips, teeth, and tongue, he pushed his hand into her panties. When had her shorts gotten unbuttoned? She didn’t know and didn’t care.
Playing her body like he owned the patent, he brought her to a swelling, symphonic peak of pleasure. Her loneliness and fear scattered to the atmosphere in tiny bits that couldn’t hurt her anymore.
Derek rubbed his cheek against hers and whispered, “That’s my girl. My sweet dream girl. You are so perfect.”
Despite the wonderful little aftershocks of her release, she bristled. He’d said he no longer thought she was imaginary, but those words made her wonder if he truly believed it.
“I’m not perfect,” she said, not caring if she ruined the moment. She refused to let him believe she was some fantasy. “And I’m not a dream. I’m as real as you are.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “You are.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. With that settled, she tangled the fingers of one hand in his hair and tugged his mouth to hers. With her other hand, she tried to divest herself of her panties.
She wanted more of him, and she wanted to give him more of herself.
He closed his strong hands around her wrists, stilling her movement. “Which is why this has to stop here.”
Chapter 9
Her heart plunged into her stomach, leaving a trail of hurt all the way down. He didn’t want her. He only wanted to clear his conscience. An orgasm for an orgasm. An ice pack for her knuckles. And now he was done with her.
How stupid she’d been to think those hungry looks had been because he cared for her.
She turned her head to hide her face. She should slip out from under him and jump off the bed to leave him in peace, but even with her heart deflated and aching, nothing short of him commanding her out of his bed would make her leave before the fog stole her back again. So he didn’t care about her like she cared about him. He was still her only friend.
“Hey,” he said, cupping her face in his warm hand and bringing her gaze back to his. “None of that. I’m not rejecting you.” He combed his fingers through a thick sheet of her hair. “Definitely not rejecting you. It’s just, I don’t even know your name. Before this goes any further, you and I need to do some talking. That’s all.”
She blinked. He was being completely reasonable. She’d just overreacted big time. How embarrassing. She wanted to crawl under the covers and hide, but Derek’s hips pinned her in place. “I’m sorry,” she said, hoping her blush wasn’t as obvious as it felt.
He framed her overly-warm face with his hands. “I don’t want to hear that word out of your mouth again, understand? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Yes. I did. I’m being too emotional. I am sorry. You’re being very sweet and I’m being all—”
He cut her off with a slow, close-lipped kiss. When he’d finished, she couldn’t remember what she’d been about to say. Or what she’d been so embarrassed about. This was Derek. She should never have to feel embarrassed with him. She was his dream girl. And he was her everything.
“Do you remember your name, beautiful?”
She
shook her head and reached up to stroke her fingers through the hair at his temple.
He leaned into her petting, and she felt him hard against her hip as he braced over her. With her next breath, she arched her back enough to scrape her nipples over the hairs on his chest. Purring at the abrasive sensation, she realized she hadn’t licked that delicious-looking chest yet. She’d definitely have to do that before returning to the fog.
“Ah-hem.”
Her gaze snapped back up to his. She had an impulse to apologize for getting distracted, but his grin filled her with confidence. “What were you saying?” she asked with an answering grin.
“Name?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve been thinking of myself as DG, short for dream girl.” She went for brevity and honesty. The quicker she answered his questions, the quicker he’d feel like he knew her well enough to help her out of her panties.
His eyebrows shot up. Apparently, she’d surprised him, and judging by the amused tilt to his mouth, her answer pleased him as well.
“It’s the closest thing I have to a name,” she added with a shrug.
“Seriously?”
She nodded.
“Do you have an address?”
“Does your address count?”
He gave her a look that said it didn’t. “Phone number, email address, place of employment, driver’s license?”
She rocked her head from side to side for each one.
“Well, what do you remember?”
That was easy. “The fog. When I’m not here with you, I’m there. That’s it. That’s all I remember.”
“Me and fog.”
She nodded and concentrated on not thinking about how much time she had left before she had to go back there. At least the clock was behind her now. She couldn’t keep torturing herself by checking it every few minutes.
Derek’s eyebrows drew together in concern. “You don’t remember anything—uh, like, anything bad happening?”
