Authors: Louise Behiel
“Good, neither am I.” Andie squirmed to ensure he was deeply seated.
Gray responded by pulling out then racing back home. His hands took hers, palm to palm, fingers interlocked. “Ready?”
She nodded, her gaze locked into his.
He withdrew and drove home again and again, until she exploded, black night turning into fireworks. A moment later, he followed her over the precipice, every muscle locking down as he stiffened above her.
A moment later he collapsed against her. “My God.”
Andie loosened her hand from his and wiped the tears from her eyes. She’d never come like that before. Never.
“Am I crushing you?”
Andie stroked his sweaty back. “Yes, but I like it.”
Gray groaned and pulled away from her, then fell to her side, pulling her close again. “That was amazing.”
“I know.” She twirled her fingers through the hairs on his chest and wondered what was going on with her. She couldn’t, wouldn’t name what she was feeling right now. She was too confused.
“My God.” He exhaled heavily. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
“A big one?”
He came up on one elbow and looked down at the tousled woman at his side. “A semi.”
She smiled a satisfied, pleased-with-herself grin. “Me too.”
Gray ran a finger over her nose and lips and chin. Down her neck, between her breasts and over her ribs. He smoothed his palm over her tummy and landed atop her curls of pubic hair.
“You are so beautiful.”
His eyes searched hers.
“You make me feel beautiful.”
“Oh lady, you don’t need me for that.” He pointedly glanced down at his growing erection. “Obviously.”
She reached out and stroked him. From base to tip. “I didn’t think this was possible.”
“Neither did I.” He leaned down and took her mouth, ready to take them both to the stars again.
But this time they were going to take it slow and easy, so they could savor every sensation.
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
He squeezed their laced fingers together. “No.” He raised their hands. “You’re still here with me.”
Then he glanced at the clock on the far side of the bed and groaned. “Actually, you’re going to stay right here until I come back.” He planted a quick kiss on her lips, slipped his hand free and slid out of bed. “You’ve distracted me long enough, woman. I’ve got to check out the yards.”
He pulled on his shorts then looked around for his runners. One he’d kicked off at the door to the bedroom, but the other one...sat right here, under the bed. He slipped them on and kissed Andie again. “Stay put.”
“After I check on Jamie.”
“Oh God, I forgot about him.”
“I didn’t.” She rose, naked splendor bathed in moonlight.
Gray swallowed hard. “We’ll pick up from where we left off when I get back.” From the door, he turned and shook his finger at her. “Be waiting.” Something released in his gut when she smiled at him.
“I wouldn’t miss it. Be careful okay?”
“Are you kidding? With you waiting for me?”
Feeling better than he had in years, he hop-skipped down the stairs. But when he landed on the sidewalk reality hit. Somebody wanted to hurt the woman inside. Somebody who’d better hope the police caught him before Gray did.
He toured both back yards and checked between their garages. Not a sound disturbed the silence of the street or the alley. So far, so good. Still, he wouldn’t rest until this creep was behind bars and Andie and the kids were safe. For some reason the idea of justice didn’t give him the relief it usually provided. He looked over at the hole in his back yard. Maybe he’d be able to use it once or twice before he put the house up for sale. He didn’t have to list the house the moment the pool was finished.
Rubbing the pain in his gut, Gray climbed the stairs to the back door. Somehow the idea of selling his house didn’t feel so good anymore. Especially when he thought about the warm, willing woman waiting in bed for him.
A couple of hours later, Angie nudged his shoulder. “Gray. Are you okay?”
He opened his eyes and looked at her, then blinked a couple of times.
He ran his hands over his face, wiping the tears away.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I was awake.” She looked at the clock. “How much sleep have you had?”
He nodded. “Enough. I’ve been keeping an eye on things when...” he wagged his eyebrows, “I haven’t been otherwise occupied.”
Andie needed to connect with him. To offer some comfort. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he looked away before running his hands over his face, removing every trace of tears. Crying while sleeping with her was becoming a habit.
“Sure.” He grabbed his jeans. “Since I’m awake I might as well take a look outside.”
She put her hand on his arm. “When did you last check?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m awake now.”
“Gray.” She slid her hand across his back and around his waist, laying her cheek between his shoulder blades. “Talk to me. What were you dreaming about?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
She slid her hands over his shoulders, cupping them, then digging her thumbs into the tense muscles. “Then why are you in knots?” Applying as much pressure as she could manage, she held the spots, hoping to release them.
“Andie. Please. Don’t.”
Pushing harder, the left one released. The right one was bigger. Deeper. “Gray, I know I don’t have any right to dig into your personal life but you were as rigid as a board and ....” She didn’t know if he’d like to hear the rest.
“And what?”
“Nothing.”
He swung around to face her, dislodging her hands before she could release the second knot. “You might as well tell me the rest. Given what we’ve been doing, I suppose I can tell you about a stupid dream.”
He searched her face, revealing fear and embarrassment in his eyes. She hoped he saw love and compassion in hers.
“I’m going to check outside and then we’ll talk, okay?” He slid his legs into his shorts and his feet into his sneakers.
“Okay.” And she let another man walk away from her without telling him how she felt. She’d made that mistake once, before she knew better, but she wouldn’t make it again.
Like it or not, somewhere between the second and third times they’d made love, she’d realized how special he is.
Watching him walk away, she remembered his gentleness. His protective nature. His patience.
Enumerating his many good qualities, she realized he totaled more than the sum of his parts. Something about the whole package drew her like a moth to a flame.
Oh my God. I’ve fallen in love with the man.
Andie ran her hand through her hair and forced her brain to think. She, Andie Bowen, widow and avowed single woman had fallen in love again. With a man planning to move away. A man without roots and with no plans to create any.
She watched down the hall when she heard Gray return. She watched his long strides and fierce glare and knew, come hell or high water, she fallen in, over her head. Over her heart.
Now all she had to do was convince the man he couldn’t live without her. Or the kids.
***
Gray left his sneakers by the kitchen door. Tonight’s heavy condensation helped, since it didn’t show any footprints other his own. There was nothing to disturb the moisture on the grass. Whoever set the fire hadn’t returned.
Once he reached the bedroom, he took Andie’s outstretched hand in his and dropped beside her on the bed. She had a funny look on her face.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
He traced the backs of her hand with his thumb and nodded. “I think we made it through tonight without any trouble.”
“How about you?”
“I’m not sure what to say. During parts of tonight I thought I was pretty good.”
“I’d say excellent.”
His lips quirked up in a smile but his chest felt hollow and empty. He’d always found it hard to talk about his feelings and Ma had never encouraged him. She’d seemed as put off by a crybaby as anybody.
He rubbed his thumb in a bigger circle, fascinated with the pattern. “I’ve been having these weird dreams for the past few months. They started out as nightmares then became videos of family life. A nice family. People who seem to genuinely care about each other.”
“Who are in them?”
“I don’t know.” He looked up, caught her gaze. “It’s so frustrating – sometimes I think I know them or am about to recognize them but then bang. It’s as if a door slams shut and I’m on the wrong side.”
They sat silently for a moment. He could admit to himself, at least, that he was afraid of her reaction. After all, she was a shrink who analyzed people for a living. “So you must think I’m pretty pathetic. I mean a grown man having nightmares like some scared kid.”
“Confused maybe. Never crazy.” She slid her hand from his and brushed them across his forehead. “Come,” she patted the bed, “Lay down beside me.”
Gray dropped his jeans and slid to the head of the bed, bunching a couple of pillows behind him.
“What are they about?” Andie asked as he pulled the sheet to his waist.
“They’re weird. At first, a little boy was running away from something. Or somebody. But then his feet froze to the sidewalk and he couldn’t run anymore. Once he froze in place, all these hands came at him, grabbing him. Pulling him.”
He got lost in the memory for a second or two, then looked at her. “Pretty wild, right?”
She seemed to be considering her words. “Some people think dreams are an attempt by the subconscious to make us consciously aware of something it knows or remembers or senses.” She settled close beside him, lifting his arm around her shoulders then playing with his fingers.
“Some psychiatrists think dreams use deep symbolism, where nothing in the dream is what it appears. And they usually think our minds are trying to express something.”
“What?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Hard to say. Jung wrote books and books on the symbolism and meaning of dreams. Many authors since have followed in his footsteps. There are encyclopedias about the latent meaning of the people and events in our dreams.”
“Should I go buy one of them?”
She looked up at him, her lips pressed together in a tight smile. “See, there’s the problem. Every tradition believes each item in a dream has a different meaning.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, one expert will suggest a lake symbolizes the mother’s womb. Others will think it means a lake of tears. For others it’s a reflection of our emotional life.”
“Which one is right?”
“Nobody knows.”
“What do you think?”
“Personally?” She looked up at him and waited.
After considering her question Gray knew he no longer had a choice. The dreams were getting stranger every day. They weren’t so frightening anymore, even though he woke feeling as if his heart had been ripped out. Waking up in tears was becoming a regular thing, although he hoped he didn’t have to admit it to Andie.
He nodded. “Yeah, you’re the expert in the room.”
“Most of my clinical experience is with children, so don’t take anything I say as gospel, okay? I’ll tell you what I think and then you have to make up your own mind.”
He took a deep breath. Although he didn’t want to talk about any of it, it appeared he no longer had a choice. If he discussed it with anyone, better Andie than a stranger. Hell, he wouldn’t tell his secrets to some guy he didn’t know, so it was either her or nobody.
“Fair enough.”
“Okay but hear me out completely before you comment.” She inhaled deeply. Seemed to be gathering her thoughts. “Many women who are sexual abuse survivors don’t remember the abuse. They start having strange dreams and nightmares for apparently no reason.”
“Are you suggesting -.”
She put a couple of fingers against his lips. “I’m not quite finished yet.”
He kissed them gently. “Sorry,” he whispered. She dropped her hand to his waist.
“After some therapy, it becomes clear a triggering event started the process of remembering. It might be a pregnancy, or marriage or even a significant birthday, like forty, but for some reason an event important to the specific woman causes the process to begin. Often with dreams.”
She pleated the sheet over his stomach. Gray laced the fingers of her other hand through his.
“Usually these dreams come with deep emotions, across a broad range of feelings. Terror, lust, shame, guilt and pleasure all can be expressed although it usually begins as nightmares.”
She lifted the hand smoothing her breast and kissed those fingers.
“Given the emotional content of your dreams – from terror to deep sadness, I think they’re the same kind of dreams, albeit serving a different purpose.”
Confusion notched his brows. “What do you mean?”