Winter Dreams

by Robyn Neeley

  She stretched her back as he topped off her wine glass, aware of the length of time they’d been sitting. The room was beautiful, but the chairs were not designed for the human body.

  “We’d probably be more comfortable in the living room.” He stood, extending his hand. She didn’t need it, but accepted it, enjoying his old-school manners. They blew out the candles together and carried their glasses to the living room. He placed his free hand on her lower back. She loved how his fingers splayed, maximizing the space they covered as he guided her to the room she was growing to know so well.

  “I’ll start a fire. It’s not a real one.”

  She laughed nervously. “Don’t tell me you use a video fireplace when you have the real thing right here.”

  He flipped a switch by the mantel. “It’s gas. I miss the sizzle and pop of a real wood fireplace. Catherine thought they … ” He pressed a hand to his forehead before looking at her guiltily. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she soothed as she reached out to touch his arm. “You two shared a life together.”

  She wondered if he would ever be ready to move on. He might not fit into her immediate future, but she’d grown to care about him and his daughter. And he smelled so good and he cooked and he had that dimple. Maybe her gift to him would be to help him take the next step. To remind him that he didn’t have to do everything alone. Be alone. Maybe she could help him open his heart so when a woman with more to offer came along, he’d be ready for her.

  • • •

  “Thanks for … ”

  He couldn’t finish his thought without once again stupidly mentioning his past and he had already mentioned her name too many times tonight. He turned his head, blinking in wonder at the beautiful creature standing beside him. Part of him wanted to spill his guts to her, tell her things he’d never revealed to anyone. Part of him wanted to kiss her, touch her bare skin, and hear her moan with pleasure knowing he, not a slice of cheesecake, caused that sound. Those two forces battled a third in his mind, the one that told him to back away and not take any chances. That last part was losing.

  “Do you have any music?”

  Startled out of his thoughts, he shook his head. “What?”

  She chuckled. “Do you have any music?”

  “In the armoire.” He gestured toward the stereo. “Eloise has taken over the music, but there are some grown up choices in the back.”

  She swayed her hips to inaudible music as she pulled one out with a flourish. “Norah Jones. Perfect!”

  She slipped the CD in and pressed play. “Dance with me?”

  He reached for her outstretched hands, unable to resist her invitation. She pulled him closer. When she moved one hand to his shoulder and the other to his side, he responded, happily wrapping his arm around the small of her back and confessing, “I’ve never danced with a professional before. I’m probably not up to your standards.”

  “You’re holding me right and swaying in tempo. We fit together nicely. I’m here to follow your lead.”

  She arched her eyebrows suggestively. He understood she meant more than dancing.

  They moved in comfortable silence, the fireplace casting a warm glow. Her fingers traced his face, coming to rest on his chest. His heart jumped in his chest, as if as eager to be touched by her as the rest of him was. He took a sharp intake of breath as she nuzzled her forehead against his neck. His groin responded, tightening. He moved his hand to the soft curls along her nape.

  “Penelope,” he rumbled, “what are you doing to me?” He didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until she broke rhythm, squaring herself as she moved her hands to his shoulders and lifted her face.

  “Whatever you’d like.”

  Chapter 6

  Heat darkened Penelope’s blue eyes and he could no longer restrain his need for her. He cradled her face, sucking in a deep breath before greedily taking her mouth with his. She welcomed him with soft, yielding lips. Their kisses grew more frantic. Their fingers explored each other’s faces. He lowered his hands, caressing her neck and back, and resting on her rounded derrière. She traced his jaw line with her fingertip then continued down his neck, creeping under his shirt collar with the lightest touch. She pulled back. The hunger in her face matched his own.

  He groaned, “I want you, all of you.”

  Smiling seductively, she purred. “Then have me.”

  She stepped back, extending her arms. They were too far apart even though they still touched. He turned both of them around and collapsed on the couch, pulling her on top. She moved to straddle him as he began covering her neck with kisses before turning his attention to her full mouth.

  He deftly untied her wrap-around cardigan without ever breaking the rhythm of his kisses. She shrugged out of it, barely losing contact with his body. He sensed she wanted this closeness as much as he did.

  His fingers discovered a sliver of skin between the hem of her shirt and the top of her low-slung trousers. He ran his hands underneath, loving how she arched her back responsively to his touch. His fingers traced muscle, soft skin, and an irritating bra band that had to go. He fumbled.

  She leaned back, amused at his furrowed brow. He stopped, sliding his hands to her waist. “You make me feel like a horny teenager. Not only are we making out on the couch, but I’m flustered and excited and I can’t figure out your bra.”

  Just when he thought he couldn’t want her more, she coyly touched the tip of her tongue to her lips before laughing and sliding his hands up her stomach and toward her breasts.

  “That’s because it’s a front clasp.” She gasped as his hands cupped her breasts, moaning as his thumbs rubbed the satin of her bra over her already hardened nipples. Closing her eyes, she arched back, responding to his caresses. She whispered his name in a husky puff.

  “I want to see you, Penelope.”

  Crossing her arms, she grabbed the hem of her shirt, but he stopped her with a single hand, gesturing toward the window with its sheer curtains. He’d already given the neighbors too much of a show and didn’t want to share her with anyone. He closed the heavy draperies, never once taking his eyes off her. He liked ethereal quality the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree gave her. He feared if they left this room now, he’d wake from this dream. He wanted it to last as long as possible.

  She grabbed a blanket from the end of the couch and spread it in front of the fireplace, making him certain she’d read his mind. He couldn’t believe his luck that she’d given him a second chance after last week. He didn’t deserve it. He hoped he wasn’t grinning like an idiot. With a twinkle in her eye, she pulled off her t-shirt.

  He covered the distance between them in the blink of an eye. His hands rested on her shoulders and then slid them down the valley between her breasts until his finger rested on the clasp of her pale pink bra. Her eyes issued an invitation and he struggled to retain some sense of control. He kissed the exposed skin at the top of her breasts and reveled in her laugh as his tongue traced the path of his fingers. He peeked at her before flicking open the clasp and revealing her rosy nipples.

  • • •

  Penelope’s body tensed with anticipation of pleasure as heat flowed toward her most womanly parts. She grew lightheaded as he teased her nipples first with his thumbs and then with his mouth. She held on to him to keep her balance, wondering if she could stand any more pleasure, but hoping for the chance to find out. She found herself irritated that she couldn’t touch his bare skin.

  She tugged at his shirt. Reluctantly, he stopped caressing her breasts. They worked together to undo his buttons, covering each other with soft kisses at every opportunity. She didn’t want their kisses to end. She’d never been kissed with such a mix of tenderness and need. She’d be spoiled forever.

  Soon they sank to the floor, naked and hungry. Arms and legs intertwined as their mout
hs sampled each other’s flesh.

  He drew back. Scowling, she used her strong legs to try to keep him close.

  “Patience, my little imp.” He gave her a light kiss on the cheek then turned away. During the unwelcome pause, she admired his muscles in the firelight as he reached for something. Relief swept through her when light reflected off a square foil packet. She liked that he was prepared. It meant he’d thought about her during the week. Goodness knows, she’d spent plenty of time wondering about him.

  She sat up, intending to help with the condom, but he guided her back to the floor, moving his hand between her legs as he kissed her breasts. He easily found her pleasure center, stroking and teasing with his fingers until waves of pleasure lapped at her.

  Taking a break to look in her eyes, he murmured, “You are so beautiful and soft and delicious,” before nibbling her earlobes and kissing her neck. His fingers returned to her sex, gently caressing. Her breathing became ragged and she panted his name as she gave herself fully to the pleasure now rippling through her body.

  She pressed her forehead against his, her words uneven, barely above a whisper. She hoped he’d obey. Her body was ready. So was his. “Inside me, now.”

  With a devilish flash of his dimple, he complied, thrusting himself inside her. She squeaked and he paused.

  “Are you okay?” He sounded concerned.

  Her curls bobbed against her cheek as she nodded. “Yes.” She gave him a lusty smile. “Good. You feel incredible.”

  She writhed her body against him, urging him to continue. He pressed back. “So do you.”

  Her hips rose to meet him again and again, creating a dance as rhythmic and seductive as earlier this evening. All too soon, his body tensed and burst with pleasurable relief. He collapsed on top of her, nuzzling her neck. She tenderly touched his hair, instinctively sensing he needed the quiet as they recovered.

  After a few minutes, he rolled to his side, for which she was grateful. He was pleasingly muscular, and solidly built, but his body weighed heavily on her ribs. “Sorry, I … ”

  She stirred, softly touching her finger to his lips. “Don’t apologize. That was wonderful.”

  “But I. … Your ribs … ” She pressed her finger harder, stopping the words from forming. She didn’t want him apologizing for anything, even for crushing her.

  She feared he would regret inviting her to stay. She’d been so eager to satisfy him, especially after his fingers alone brought her to orgasm. His body, still shimmering with perspiration, responded appropriately to hers, but perhaps she disappointed him sexually. Or maybe he wanted her to leave immediately. She hoped those words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. She could lie beside him forever.

  Forever was easy to believe in the post-coital glow, even if the idea of having anyone or anything “forever” frightened her. It was a silly idea, impossible in so many ways.

  For now, she wanted to bask in the illusion that she belonged with him. All too soon, she would get dressed, drive home to her empty apartment, and climb into her empty bed. Until then, she’d absorb every detail she could, the musky smell of their romp, the feel of the soft blanket against her back, the flickering of firelight on his muscular torso, the way his gray eyes darkened with desire.

  She thought of his touch.

  His fingers pressed firmly against her skin, making her ache with longing. They slid across her abdomen. The pressure eased as they traced the valley between her breasts, lightly tickling her skin, bringing a smile to her face. They continued exploring to her neck and damp curls along her hairline. She sensed his touch so clearly, she blushed when she realized she moaned audibly.

  Chuckling, he murmured, “Next time, we’ll slow down.” His hot, moist breath tickled her ear.

  Her flesh tingled in anticipation. Surely she’d dreamt all this. She sat up and pinched her leg. Hard. Pain told her she was awake. He caressed her lower back. She glanced over her shoulder at him. He lay propped on one elbow with a bemused expression on his face. Had she heard him right?

  “Next time?”

  • • •

  Nervous, he feared rejection. His mind pulsed with self doubt. I thought she enjoyed herself, but maybe not. Perhaps she humored him. Her work required a certain level of acting, after all. She hadn’t said much during intercourse except panting his name. Catherine used to give directions or discuss household chores as if making love were as ordinary as washing dishes. This had been different. With Penelope, it all happened so fast. One minute they danced, the next they were rolling on the floor. Maybe she wasn’t satisfied but refused to say anything out of courtesy.

  He raised himself to her side, not touching her in case his worst fear came true. He gazed into her deep blue eyes, so beautiful. “I hope there will be a next time.”

  Her eyelids fluttered, as if she were surprised he wanted more of her. “I — I’d like that very much.”

  She leaned closer and he wrapped his arms around her. They sat holding each other in the firelight, breathing in sync. How could someone so delicate work such powerful magic on him?

  He loved how her fingers touched him, a light but deliberate pressure, full of promise and tenderness. She traced a tiny line on his chin.

  “How did you get that?” When he didn’t respond right away she added, “The scar on your chin?”

  He’d forgotten it was there, even though he saw it every day. No one had asked him about it for a long time. For once, he didn’t feel foolish. “I was trying to impress a girl with some skateboarding tricks.”

  Her eyebrows lifted in surprise as she raised her face toward his. “You don’t seem like the skateboarding type. Did it work?”

  “Skateboarding was part of my misspent youth. The trick ended in the emergency room and I decided to stick with snowboarding. And yes, it worked. Sort of. The girl went on a pity date with me. Once.”

  “Her loss.”

  Her playful tone of voice made him think she was the kind of woman who would never do anything out of pity or guilt. She would give him an honest answer.

  He spoke softly in her ear, not yet confident how she would respond. “Eloise is spending the night at her grandparents’. Will you stay for breakfast?”

  “Hmmmm.” Her gaze roamed over him approvingly, reviving his arousal. “Only if you promise to wear me out.”

  He stood, not caring that he was grinning like an idiot and offering his hand to Penelope. She stood. She was very naked and had to be cold. He started gathering up her clothes on his way to turn off the fire.

  “Wait. Now you’re kicking me out?”

  “No! I thought we’d continue this in the bedroom.”

  “Then lead the way.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want your shirt or anything so you don’t get cold? I could get a robe for you.”

  She surprised him with a little pat on his rear. “Why? Watching that butt heading down the hall will keep me plenty warm.”

  When his head snapped to look at her face, her worried look took him off guard. Could she really worry she’d hurt him? He burst out laughing. He kissed her hair, finding its peppermint smell appealing.

  Pulling her close, he wondered about the woman standing before him. Catherine had barely liked being naked in bed, much less out of it. After Eloise’s birth, she wouldn’t even let him have a light on until she insisted on plastic surgery to fix what she called her wrecked body. She had been on her to some surgery resort to meet a friend for a tummy tuck when she crashed on an icy road and lost her life.

  His eyes met Penelope’s, so trusting, so lively. He chastised himself for dredging old memories, making needless comparisons when she stood before him, so open, so ready.

  They held hands as they went up stairs to his bedroom. He couldn’t resist the urge to peek at her heart shaped derriere as they walked. He m
ight not get another chance. He pushed open the door and, after confirming the blinds were indeed closed, he flipped on the ceiling fan light and stepped aside to watch her take in the room.

  The room’s cathedral ceiling that would have soared higher if the furniture hadn’t been heavy, dark and squat. The canopy bed in Eloise’s room looked right. The four poster canopy bed in here seemed shackle-like in how firmly it anchored to the floor. The room still had overwrought floral curtains, but the bed linens were elegant gray on gray stripes.

  He took pride in his un-decorating efforts. Last week, after he watched Penelope’s taillights disappear down the street and around the corner, he drank a beer on the couch. He then grabbed another bottle and set to work trying to make the house a more inviting place. He’d never considered making changes to the decor other than updating Eloise’s room to her big girl tastes. But Penelope inspired him. All week he tinkered with the house, moving photos and buying new sheets for his bed.

  “It’s a bit schizophrenic right now. I’m trying to sort out what I want.” Looking at her profile, he realized on some level, he already had.

  “Please tell me you are in the market for new drapes.”

  “The store said the ones to match the bed spread were out of stock until mid-January.”

  She looked at him, eyes twinkling mischievously. “I hope you put in a pre-order. For now, though, you need to either dim the lights or distract me.”

  “That can be arranged.” Proving his point, he kissed her, the urgency from earlier now tempered with tenderness. She melted against him. Swooping her up, he carried her across the room, laying her gently on the bed. He distracted her with caressing touches, until her body once again quivered with pleasure. She returned the favor, savoring his body first with her fingers, then with her mouth. He begged to be inside her again. They danced again, a slow tango, until reaching mutual heights of ecstasy.

  Exhausted, they lay back on the pillows. After a few minutes, he rolled her onto her side. His body was sated and ready for sleep, but one question pushed its way to the edge of his consciousness. His fingertips traced along her spine. His drowsy voice registered below a whisper, “Where do you hide your wings?” He curled around her before drifting to sleep, the happiest he’d been in a long time.