Dream Man

“The son of a bitch,” Dane said softly.

She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “I was weird. I still am.”

“Hell, no wonder you’re skittish about sex. All you’ve ever seen is the ugly side of it; you’ve never had any romantic illusions, have you? You know about scoring, and about rape. You must think men are scum.”

“No,” she denied. “When you know what other people are feeling, the way I did, you know that couldn’t be so. There are selfish, mean-spirited women just like there are nasty men. But when it came to sex, I couldn’t close my mind and just feel. It wouldn’t have been any different if I’d been madly in love with a wonderful guy who loved me just as much; I couldn’t have enjoyed sex with all that mental static going on.

“I think I had accepted that I couldn’t have any sort of romantic relationship,” she continued. “I liked being alone, in my little cabin in the mountains. Dr. Ewell thought that moving into the cabin was good for me, a move toward normalizing my life. And it was; it was great. I worked with him on experiments and documentation, and occasionally helped find missing people, though the effort involved was such a strain that—well, you know what it’s like. Once upon a time, before Gleen, I could direct the knowing. I could lock on to someone specific, and go into a vision. I can’t control it at all now.”

“Do you want it to be like before?”

“I never wanted to have another vision in my life,” she murmured. “But if I don’t have any choice about it, then yes, I’d like to be able to control them. This—this is like being ambushed.” She was getting drowsy again, and her eyelids drooped.

“But except for the two visions, you haven’t had any other episodes?”

She thought of the first night she had called him, and known what he was doing, what he would say, even as he answered the telephone. “There was one flash of clairvoyance, but it wasn’t related to the murders, and hasn’t happened again. It was just a second or two. I don’t think of the visions as clairvoyant episodes; they’re … different, more strongly grounded in emotion. Anyway—no. Nothing else.”

“Good.”

There was a wealth of dark satisfaction in his voice, a satisfaction she couldn’t quite decipher. Then his warm hand covered her breast, and she knew, with an instinct that had nothing to do with her psychic abilities, and everything to do with being a woman. No longer sleepy, she tilted her head back on his arm to look at him.

“It seems to me that now is the perfect time to show you some of the pleasure of sex,” Dane murmured. Those hazel eyes were blazingly intent, and deeply green. “You can’t feel my emotions, so that takes care of one problem. If you were afraid of me, you wouldn’t have been lying almost naked on my lap for half an hour, which takes care of the other problem. All you have to do is lie there and let me make you feel good.”

She quivered, her gaze locked with his. Was now the time? Until Dane, she hadn’t felt desire. Sex had been an experiment, a hope, and ultimately, a disappointment. She wasn’t afraid of him, but rather that she would fail again. Loving him was still so new, so startling, that she didn’t want to tarnish it. It was cowardly, but she would prefer to never try, and retain the frail hope that it might have been possible, than to try and fail. Might-have-been was a poor comfort, but better than nothing.

“I don’t know,” she said nervously. “What if—”

“Stop worrying about it,” he interrupted. “Just lie back, close your eyes, and leave everything to me.”

Easier said than done. Still she stared up at him with worried eyes, unable to decide yes or no. Too much had happened to her for her to be able to make that move. She hated herself for being so weak, and tears began welling.

Dane gave her approximately two seconds, then settled the issue himself. He stroked down her body and beneath the waistband of her panties, tucking his hand into the notch between her thighs. Marlie cried out in surprise, automatically grabbing his wrist. Her thighs clamped tight around his hand. Her eyes were huge, eclipsing her wan face. But even as they stared at each other, hectic color warmed her cheeks.

“Do you trust me?” he asked in a calm voice, as if it weren’t taking every bit of self-control he had to keep from rolling her beneath him and sinking into her, finding blessed relief for his throbbing erection.

She chewed her lower lip, and he almost groaned aloud at the provocation. “Well, yes.”

“Then relax your legs. I’m not going to hurt you. As a matter of fact, I guarantee that you’ll like it.” She managed a wobbly smile. “Guarantee, huh?”

“Absolutely.” He bent his head and brushed a gentle kiss across her mouth.

Marlie quivered, caught on the twin prongs of cowardice. She was afraid to try and fail, and afraid that if she didn’t trust him now, she might never have another chance. In the end, the second fear proved stronger. No matter what, she wanted to know what it was like to cradle Dane within her body, to feel his incredible strength as he drove into her, to give him pleasure if nothing else. He was determined to bring her to pleasure first, she knew, but she also knew that afterward it would be his turn. She wasn’t agreeing to just heavy petting, but to the complete sex act.

She drew a deep, shaky breath. “Okay. As long as I have your personal guarantee.”

“I’ll put it in writing and have it notarized,” he promised, and kissed her again.

She couldn’t control the fine tremors that shook her entire body, but she took another deep breath and slowly parted her thighs. He gently stroked the soft, closed folds, and Marlie released her death grip on his wrist. “Easy now,” he whispered, then deftly opened her and penetrated her with one long finger.