Midnight Fantasies

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “I…” She wanted to. The urge was so strong to tell him all the wicked things running through her mind. What she felt. What she liked. What she wanted. Right here, right now. Despite the crowd of people surrounding them.

  Her ultimate fantasy.

  As exciting as the realization was, it sent a wash of fear through her. She’d been hiding for so long, suppressing her true nature, that she didn’t know how to stop. She didn’t know if she could stop, no matter how much she suddenly wanted to.

  “I…I—I think they’re done,” was all she finally managed to say.

  “What?”

  She swallowed. “The funnel cakes. They, um, look crispy.”

  She heard the draw of his breath, felt the tightening of his body, as if it took every ounce of strength he had to gather his composure.

  “We’re not done yet, you and I,” he said before releasing her.

  His words stayed with her for the next half hour as she kept her distance and tried to forget the man standing so close. An arm’s length away if she’d been of a mind to reach out.

  She wouldn’t. She stayed on her side of the booth and left Dallas to his until the cook-off finally winded down and she managed to slip away while he talked with Drew Hayes about judging tomorrow night’s Miss Cadillac pageant.

  She could leave the man behind, but she wasn’t nearly as successful escaping her fantasy man. He showed up much later when she crawled into bed. Oddly enough, she didn’t welcome the erotic thoughts. Instead of satisfying her the way they usually did, they left her wanting more.

  They left her wanting the real thing. Dallas.

  “I CAN’T TELL YOU HOW MUCH we appreciate this!” Drew Hayes’s excited voice drifted over the phone early the next morning when Laney answered.

  She blinked against the onslaught of sunlight from her bedroom window and tried to focus on the alarm clock. What time was it?

  “We need you at the grounds by six o’clock. That will give you time to check in at the judges table, get your name tag and find your seat.”

  “Name tag?”

  “You’re a real lifesaver. I didn’t know what we were going to do. Every available person either has a relative in the pageant or already has their hands full with other duties. When Dallas said he knew you wouldn’t mind filling in as the fourth judge, I can’t tell you how relieved I was.”

  “But I didn’t—”

  “I should have known you’d be obliging. I mean, your father’s been a sponsor of the pageant for the past twenty years. Why, just last year he donated an extra sum to add to the scholarship fund. So, I’m not surprised you’re helping out. You’re a chip off the old block.”

  A chip off the old block.

  The comment pushed past her sleepy haze and drew her fully awake. She’d struggled her entire life to fit in, to make her parents proud, to be their daughter in every way possible. The fact that the townsfolk saw her as such sent a burst of pride through her and she found herself blurting, “What time did you say for me to be there?”

  After all, it was just one night. The worst that could happen was that they would seat her next to Dallas.

  Even so, she could handle the situation. She’d spent a lifetime ignoring her feelings for him. One more night was nothing, especially if it meant living up to the Merriweather name.

  UGH. It was going to be the longest, most trying night of Laney’s entire life.

  She knew it the moment she slid into her seat at exactly eight o’clock and found herself sitting next to Dallas. He looked so handsome wearing creased Wranglers and a starched Western shirt. Worse, he looked so…nice with his easy grin and his twinkling eyes.

  “If I were the sensitive sort, I’d be offended that you didn’t say goodbye to me last night,” he murmured as the lights flickered and the pageant kicked off with the mayor’s wife singing an a cappella version of “You Light Up My Life.”

  “Then it’s a stroke of luck that you’ve never been the sensitive sort.”

  “Maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf.”

  “And maybe Jennifer Monroe will actually leave the Aqua Net at home tonight.”

  Her knowing gaze shifted to the woman who sat in the fourth row. The women’s beehive hairdo, already stiff with hair spray, reflected the whirl of stage lights as they searched and settled on the mayor’s wife.

  “And if I was really sensitive, I’d likely be offended that you’re practically clinging to the other side of your chair. I don’t bite, hot stuff.” His grin widened. “Unless you ask me real nice and polite.”

  She searched for a smart-ass comeback. Something to stir his anger and turn him from this serious, perceptive, sexy-as-all-get-out man to the annoying, irritating boy who’d pulled her ponytail and hung Kick Me signs on the back of her blouse every morning at school. It had been so easy to keep her distance back then.

  She cleared her throat. “I, um, think we’d better pay attention.” The mayor’s wife sang her last note and a round of applause echoed throughout the room.

  As the pageant started and the contestants were introduced, Laney actually started to relax. It wasn’t as if she had to talk to Dallas any more, what with all the noise and the music and the responsibilities that came with judging Miss Cadillac. She could just forget all about him and keep her eyes and her mind on the matter at hand.

  He shifted in his seat and his blue-jean clad thigh brushed hers. Her heart started to pound. Her hands trembled. Heat rushed to her face. Worse, the subtle gesture made her go all soft and warm inside with anticipation.

  It was a feeling she had to quell more than once throughout the rest of the evening. His thigh brushed hers. His arm slid against hers. His scent filled her breathing room. And more than once, Dallas himself filled her line of vision when her gaze, the traitorous thing, slid his way.

  Finally, finally, the festivities drew to a close and Laney was able to make her escape. She jumped at the chance to leave the table to deliver the judge’s decision to the emcee. The moment the envelope hit her palm, she bolted to her feet and nearly toppled the table. A strong hand on her arm steadied her, and left her breathless and shaken and wanting more. More of Dallas’s strong warmth against her body, his hands sliding over her arms, her breasts, her…

  Instead of finishing the thought, she retreated behind the stage. The next fifteen minutes passed in a blur as the winners were announced and a mob of well-wishers crowded backstage. Laney said her congratulations to the winners, then took refuge in the center of the mob, chatting with her father’s friends and associates and doing her best to forget Dallas and the effect his nearness had had on her.

  A half hour later, she slid off her shoes, sat down on the edge of the stage and stared out at the now-empty auditorium. The sound of fading voices drifted from the open doorway as the last of the pageant attendees headed to the cafeteria for punch and an assortment of cakes and pies—thanks to the ladies’ auxiliary—and the chance to have their picture taken with the Cadillac High mascot.

  Laney drew in a deep breath and frowned at the way her body still tingled from the three hours and fifteen minutes and thirty-six seconds sitting next to Dallas Jericho. She shouldn’t be so affected. He was just a man.

  The man.

  The one who filled her past.

  And her present, she realized when she glanced up to find him standing in the doorway, holding a piece of chocolate fudge marble cake and a glass of punch.

  “I had to fight my way past Jim Mitchum and his eight kids for this,” he said as he handed the punch and cake to her.

  As the scent of chocolate filled her nostrils, her frustration peaked and she turned accusing eyes on him. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Doing what, hot stuff?”

  “You know what. You’re being nice. Nice, when you don’t even like me. You never liked me.”

  “Maybe this isn’t about like. Maybe it’s about finishing what we started. Aren’t you tired of pretending?”

  “I don�
��t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He walked the few feet toward the sound booth. “You feel the pull. I know you do.” He touched a button and one of the lights that surrounded them flicked off. “In your breasts.” Another click and the room grew dimmer. “Between your legs.”

  “Don’t.” The word slid past her lips when he reached for the last button. She sat the cake plate and the punch aside and got to her feet. “Don’t do this to me.”

  “I’m not going to do anything right now, darlin’.” He clicked the last button and they were suddenly plunged into darkness. For several frantic heartbeats, she couldn’t see anything. She could only feel. Her heart pounding. Her blood rushing. Her nipples tingling. “You are.” A final click and the auditorium plunged into complete darkness save for the fiery red glow of a distant Exit sign.

  She squinted and tried to adjust her eyes, but the blackness was too consuming. She could only hear his deep, even breaths and the raw, seductive rumble of his voice.

  “Tell me what you feel, Laney,” he murmured.

  Laney wasn’t sure what happened to her in those next few moments. Maybe it was the darkness that lent a surreal quality to the situation and made it seem more fantasy than reality. Maybe it was the fact that she’d longed for this moment so many times, for the chance to finish what they’d started that night so long ago. Maybe all the sugar she’d consumed in the past week trying to satisfy her craving for Dallas had finally started to rot her brain. Maybe all three.

  She didn’t know. She only knew that something broke inside her and suddenly she felt free. Uninhibited. Hot.

  “Tell me,” he appealed again.

  And she did.

  “M-my hands are shaking. My lips are tingling. My pulse is pounding.”

  “What else, Laney? What else do you feel?”

  “My nipples…” She licked her lips and searched for a word to describe the electricity skimming through her body, zeroing in on the erogenous zones. “Hard,” she finally murmured. “They’re hard and tight and every time I breathe they rub against the lace of my bra and they get harder. They—” she licked her lips again “—they tingle.”

  “What else?” he pressed, as if he already knew what she felt. As if he felt it, too.

  “I’m hot,” she whispered. Her chest heaved as she tried for a deep, steadying breath. Her nipples rasped against her bra and electricity spiraled from the twin points, winding through her body in search of a more crucial area. “Between my legs,” she managed to say as the sensation grew stronger. “I’m hot and…and wet.”

  She heard his sharp intake of breath and her heart pounded. She expected to feel him at any moment, his strong hands on her, stroking up her arms, stirring her the way they had at the carnival.

  “Now show me.” The flick of a switch punctuated his command and the flood of a spotlight surrounded her. “Show me how you feel.”

  For a fraction of a second, she thought she saw the slight movement of his silhouette just beyond the bright light. The realization that he was there, waiting and watching, sent another zing of excitement through her already flushed body.

  She licked her lips before touching a fingertip to her bottom lip. Flesh quivered against flesh as she traced her mouth before sliding the fingertip down her chin, her throat. Her touch paused at the frantic pounding of her pulse before moving on, down.

  She slid a finger beneath the edge of her blouse, tracing the path where soft flesh met lace before moving to the first button. It slid free, then the next and the next, until finally her blouse parted. Cool air whispered over the exposed skin of her stomach. With a shrug of her shoulders, the silk slid over her shoulders, down her arms and puddled at her feet. Goose bumps followed, chasing up and down her bare flesh.

  Her nipples pressed against the lace of her bra, eager to break free. She didn’t oblige them. Not yet. Her fingertip circled a ripe, swollen crest that peeked through the lace and the air lodged in her lungs.

  “Show me more, Laney.”

  With trembling fingers, she unhooked the front clasp of her bra. The cups parted and her breasts sprang free. She touched the undersides first, cupping the soft mounds, weighing them before anticipation got the best of her and she had to feel more. She skimmed her palms over her nipples and a shiver went through her. Heat skittered over her skin, chasing away the goose bumps and setting her ablaze.

  “More.” The one word, so raw and husky, urged her fingertips down. She slid her hand around her stomach, to the side zipper of her skirt. A loud zzzzip! and the teeth parted, the material sagged and the skirt slithered down her hips and pooled at her feet. She wore silk panty briefs, very tasteful and conservative, and for a split second, doubt crept into her passion-laden frame of mind. Her undies were a far cry from the red lingerie she’d purchased at the Wildchild party, or the purple thong Dallas had teased her with.

  Then she heard his deep, guttural, “Beautiful,” and her hand seemed to move of its own accord. She trailed her fingertips over the satin of her panties. Her eyes closed as sensation rippled through her. In her mind’s eye, it wasn’t her own touch she felt, but Dallas’s.

  His hands stroking her through the fabric, his touch teasing the edge of elastic, his fingertips pushing inside to glide along the damp, swollen flesh between her legs, his finger sliding deep, deep inside the drenched flesh.

  Her breath caught and she gasped at the incredible pressure that gripped her. Sweet. Intense. Real.

  No matter how vivid the fantasy or how she’d touched herself in this exact same way many times before, it had never felt the way it did now as she stood bathed in the single spotlight with Dallas Jericho in front of her. Watching.

  Another move of her fingers and her body swayed from the pleasure that rushed through her. She fought to keep her balance and her foot bumped something. Cold liquid seeped between her toes and her eyes fluttered open. She glanced down to see the foam cup lying on its side. Red punch stained the toe of her cream-colored shoe and a memory rushed at her.

  She found herself remembering the punch creeping over the bodice of her white homecoming dress, the empty cup dangling from Dallas’s hand.

  “We can’t do this.” Trembling hands grappled for the forgotten skirt. “I can’t do this.” She yanked the material up and tugged at the zipper before reaching for her bra and blouse. “I won’t.” She’d just slid into her shirt when the overhead lights flicked on.

  By the time she blinked and adjusted her eyes to the sudden change in brightness, he was gone.

  Thank the Powers That Be.

  She told herself that, but she didn’t believe it. She couldn’t. She’d felt too alive a few moments ago and now she felt…

  Embarrassed. Ashamed. Mortified.

  That’s what she should have felt, but the only emotion that closed around her and slithered inside was a fast-consuming loneliness.

  We’re not done yet, you and I.

  His words echoed through her head, relentless as she gathered up her things and rushed outside to her car. As she slid behind the wheel, her heart still pounding and her body craving his touch, she couldn’t help but remember that long-ago night.

  It had been a grand party. Her family and friends had gathered to wish her well. She’d been headed off to college, her father’s alma mater, and as exciting as the future had been, she’d been terrified, as well. She’d spent her childhood striving to fit in, to be the proper daughter and make her parents proud. And she’d succeeded.

  But for how long?

  The question had kept her tossing and turning into the night, until she’d finally given up trying to sleep. She’d crawled out of bed, slipped on her clothes and went for a walk.

  And cried.

  She’d been so overwhelmed by the future and what waited for her. That’s when she’d seen Dallas. He’d cruised by in his old Mustang and pulled alongside her.

  Had she not been so upset, she could have turned up her no
se and told him to take a hike. Instead, she’d crawled into his car.

  They’d driven down to the river. He’d made her smile and forget all about her fear. And then he’d kissed her.

  One thing had led to another and soon they’d been making out fast and furious, the lake glimmering in the far distance. When he’d tugged her panties down, she’d been so close to surrendering.

  But her fear had stopped her, just as it had tonight, and she’d gone on to spend the next ten years thinking about him. Fantasizing. Wanting.

  She didn’t intend to put herself through another ten years of agony. The heat burned so fiercely between them because the fuse had been lit that night so long ago, and there was only one way to find relief. She had to let the fire run its course and burn itself out.

  The sooner the better.

  HE WAS THE DUMBEST MAN that ever lived.

  Dallas came to that conclusion as he pulled into his driveway a half hour after walking out on Laney Merriweather.

  She’d wanted him. He’d seen the desire shining bright in her eyes. He’d heard the raw huskiness of her voice. He’d even smelled the heat coming off her. But more than anything, he’d felt her want, her need when she’d looked at him for that split second when he’d flicked on the spotlight and their eyes had met.

  She’d wanted him, all right. But she didn’t want to want him. While she’d let her defenses down for a few moments tonight, she was still fighting the attraction between them and battling the lust that burned in her soul.

  It didn’t matter. He could have taken her anyway. As turned on as she’d been, all he’d had to do was reach out. She would have melted in his arms at the first touch, powerless to resist the pull between them. It was too strong. Too overwhelming. Too damned intense.

  The trouble was, he wanted her to want him. He wanted her to admit it. To him, and to herself.

  And so he’d walked away.

  He climbed from the truck cab. A twinge of pain pulsed from his still rock-hard erection and he damned himself a thousand times. What did it matter if she admitted it so long as they finished what they’d started? One wild night and he could work her out of his system once and for all. That’s the way it had been with every other woman in his past.