He’d never been in a situation like this before …

But really, what was the big deal? Jason thought. So he and Christy had been dreaming about each other. They were right in the middle of the ‘sex-all-the-time’ part of their relationship. Of course they’d dream about each other.

But the exact same dream? That wasn’t possible. But then again, it kind of explained why he’d had a dream about being a spa guy. A naked spa guy. That was obviously Christy’s contribution.

Jason grinned when he thought about that, choosing to focus on the fact that she thought he was hot. That she’d thought he was hot before they’d officially met. That was cool. Still …

God, he needed a run.

He ran. He swam. He saw his therapist, to whom he said absolutely nothing about his dreams. He was freaked out, but he wasn’t stupid. Talking about shared dreams would be career suicide, especially in the military. They did, however, talk about Christy and what was going on between them.

In the end, Jason agreed with the doc: women were good. Sex was good. He should stop worrying and just enjoy it.

Which worked out great … until he met her for dinner later.

About the Author

USA TODAY bestselling author KATHY LYONS has made her mark with sizzling romances. She adores unique settings, wild characters, and erotic, exotic love. And if she throws in a dragon or a tigress here and there, it’s only in the name of fun! An author of more than thirty novels, she adores the fabulousness that is Blaze! She calls them her sexy treat and hopes you find them equally delicious! Kathy loves hearing from readers. Visit her at www.kathylyons.com or find her on Facebook and Twitter under her other penname, Jade Lee.

Dear Reader,

I have a friend who puts great stock in her dreams. She considers them messages from beyond. Me? I think my dreams are the flotsam and jetsam of my mind, pulling random stuff together and presenting them as a story because that’s what I do. I put stories together from random stuff.

But once, I had an erotic dream. Okay, okay, maybe not so much an erotic dream as a dream about a facial that I was getting for my birthday. But by the time I woke up, I had this great idea about a couple of strangers sharing hot dreams. I mean, do you actually confess to the stranger, “Hey I had this great dream about you last night”? Heck no! So how long before you fess up? How intimate do you get in the real world before the dream world makes an appearance?

When I told my friend about it, she asked me to think about what purpose those images could have. What is the underlying message in a series of erotic dreams? From there, well, Night After Night … was born.

I hope you enjoy your nights as much as Christy and Jason do!

Best,

Kathy Lyons

Night After

Night …

Kathy Lyons

www.millsandboon.co.uk

1

CHRISTY BAKER WAS HAVING a great dream. She knew it was a dream because when, honestly, would a hot marine step into an esthetician’s room and start giving her a facial? Especially since he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

Yowza! Ever since she’d hit puberty while living on a military base, she’d had fantasies about soldiers. Didn’t matter what branch of the military so long as they were half-naked and ripped. And as she got older, the “half” part of naked disappeared.

Hence the awesome dream right now of a naked marine gently slathering sea-something onto her face. She was lying on a heated, cushioned table while he slowly stroked therapeutic mud onto her face and her toes curled in delight. Then she let out a purr of appreciation. It was a dream, right? She could purr if she wanted to. He looked down at her, his blue eyes sparkling with humor.

“So you like this stuff, huh?”

“Come over this way.” She reached for his bulging bicep and tugged him down by the side of the table.

He complied, and oh, yes, ripped abs, sculpted torso, and a cute dimple in his left cheek. Sadly, she couldn’t see the lower half of his body, but she was sure it was equally impressive.

“Much better,” she said.

“You know this is a full-body treatment, right?” he said, flashing that dimple again.

“Of course it is,” she said. Because this was an awesome dream.

“Then just close your eyes and relax. Let me do all the work.”

“I leave myself in your capable hands,” she crooned as she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the experience. Except, of course, it wasn’t nearly as much fun without the view, so she opened them a moment later.

He was by the sink, his back to her and his buttocks in full display. Was that a tattoo of a swallow on his hip? It didn’t matter. The tat just made him all the more mouthwatering.

He was mixing the mud, and she caught a flash of his large hands in and out of stuff that looked like rich, dark chocolate. Soon those hands and that stuff would be all over her body. Best. Dream. Ever.

He must have known she was watching, because he looked over his shoulder at her and flashed her a wink. “This will take just a second. The best stuff comes when you’re fully ready.”

She was ready. Any more ready and this dream would have a premature ending. Better to focus on something else. Like his narrow waist. The ripples in his back as he worked. “Listen to those kids,” she said. “Don’t they sound like they’re having fun?”

What? Where had that question come from? And yeah, there were kids laughing and cheering in the background. Probably a playground nearby. But what did that have to do with her full-body treatment?

He tilted his head, obviously listening for something. A frown appeared between his brows, and his eyes grew distant. Worse, he stopped kneading the dark chocolate mixture and she felt she was losing her grip on him.

“Stop thinking so hard!” she cried to bring him back to her. “We were doing something here.” She hated it when her dreams spun off in the wrong direction.

He blinked and focused on her. He had turned to face her again, but she still didn’t get a look at his body. Not the full frontal, but that was okay. He was carrying the bowl of the chocolate mixture over to her side and his eyes no longer had that distant, slightly lost look. Right now he was zeroing in on her. Well, her breasts actually, which were abruptly uncovered for his viewing.

Any other time she might have felt self-conscious. She had nice breasts. Round, full, large. She tended toward the plump side of life anyway. So if this were real life, she’d be covering up the pounds and praying that he wasn’t repulsed.

But this was the best dream ever because when he looked at her, his eyes gleamed. He liked what he saw. He wanted what he saw. And whatever bit of self-consciousness that lived in this dream faded away from the delight in his eyes.

“So, I’m supposed to spread this all over?” he asked.

She nodded. “That’s what happens in full-body treatments. It’s to purify and soften the skin. And since I have skin everywhere …”

“I better make sure to cover every inch.”

She continued playing along. “It’s important that I get my money’s worth. This is a top-end spa.”

“Is that what this is?” he asked, as he looked around curiously.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t work anywhere but in the best places.”

He let loose an outright burst of laughter. “Actually, I work in the worst pits on the planet.”

She waved his statement away. “That’s your day job. This is your night job.” She steadfastly ignored the bright sunlight and the sound of kids’ laughter outside. “Right now, you’re here with me in a luxury spa and I’m waiting for my treatment.”

He smiled at her and wasn’t that a megawatt doozy? It wasn’t that his teeth gleamed or anything. It was just a warm, fun smile like you might get from the guy next door. Especially if the guy who lived next door was hot and naked and intent on touching every part of your body.

“Do I start at your face and work down? Or go straight for the gold?”

“Your choice. I’m easy.” She could be easy in a dream, right? So the double entrendre was exactly what she meant.

He scooped out some of the mixture and squished it between his hands. His eyes never left hers as he worked, and as much as she wanted to watch the play of muscles on his chest, she couldn’t force herself to look away from his beautiful blue eyes.

And then he was finally, blessedly, done with mixing and got down to the stroking. He started on her neck, putting on the chocolate with long strokes that went from her chin down to the tops of her breasts. Wow, that felt good. Like heat and sweetness being rubbed gently into her body. How she could taste the sweetness of him, she didn’t know, but that was the beauty of dreams.

She released a low, throaty purr. He smiled and that dimple flashed at her.

“I love that sound,” he said.

“I love what you’re doing to make me make that sound.”

Oh, why couldn’t she be suddenly witty for just once? Fortunately, her marine esthetician didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her eyes closed, first the left, then the right.

The scent of him was perfect! Her eyelids stayed shut to appreciate the deliciousness of it.

And then his hands found her breasts.

He shaped her, he stroked her, he thumbed across her nipples while her purr dropped to a huskier octave. Okay, so she loved it when a guy spent a long time on her breasts. She loved it even better when he began licking her nipples, sucking them to a point, and sometimes a little nip here and there would send her to the moon.

He did it all. Before she knew it—before she wanted it—she was grabbing his massive shoulders and coming with a cry!

Which woke her right up. Damn! That was one dream she would have loved to stay with for a while. For a long while.

She rubbed her eyes and stretched, hearing herself purr for real. The ripples were still going, though they were fading too quickly. Still that had been a great dream. Hawaii must be having a beneficial effect on her psyche.

She lay in bed, just appreciating the luxury of the new environment. It wasn’t that she was living in a resort or anything. Traveling Officer Quarters, or TOQ, at Pearl Harbor Navel Station were not high living by any standards. But it was a different location than her Cincinnati apartment, and a different job than a kindergarten teacher in an Ohio public school. She was a summer tutor for kids stationed at the naval base. For Christy, that meant a paid summer in Hawaii. Who wouldn’t want that?

It’s not that she didn’t enjoy her regular life in Ohio, but she’d gotten the feeling lately that she was stuck in a rut. She hung out with the same people every day, ate the same food, did the same things. Every day. Her friends and colleagues all knew about her and her very military family, knew that she suffered from chronic joint pain, and knew that she struggled every day to walk and move like a normal person. She never tried anything new because everyone tried to stop her. They were afraid she’d hurt herself. So she gave in and never challenged herself or anyone else. Until the day she heard about the opening at Pearl Harbor. A place far from Ohio where no one knew her at all.

Despite the objections from her family, she’d applied and gotten the job. For this summer only, she was a summer tutor in Hawaii. She taught English in a classroom on base from ten to noon Monday through Friday, plus she had private sessions with about a dozen kids. It was a great job and one she was well qualified to do. Better yet, no one knew her here. No one knew that her joints might swell up and make her walk like the Tin Man who’d been out in the rain all day. She was just Miss Baker, summer tutor and English teacher. Perfect and blessedly anonymous. She could do whatever she wanted, be whomever she wanted, and experiment however she chose.

After this summer, she’d reevaluate. Did she want her old life back in Ohio? Or was it time for a bigger, better, more sweeping change? So, simple steps. A little exploration in Hawaii where no one could baby her. And no one would stop her. If it worked out, then maybe she’d make a bigger change after the summer.

She got out of bed slowly, smiling because life was just that good this morning. It helped that her joints didn’t hurt so much. She didn’t know if it was because of the change in climate or her dream, but either way was good with her. Chronic joint pain was something she’d lived with her entire life. Sometimes it was just her knees and hips that ached. Sometimes it was her whole body. Drugs helped—some. Rest helped—some. Mostly, it just was. Some days were fine, some days were painful, and some were just agony. She never knew what to expect. So this morning’s dream plus a lack of pain made everything in Hawaii feel rosy and new.

Her calendar flashed her a morning motto of: embrace the unexpected gift. She thought that was especially appropriate today. Then it was a shower and a sundress. Her first tutoring appointment wasn’t until nine, so she had a little bit of time.

Her hair was still wrapped in a towel when she walked barefoot into the kitchenette. The Traveling Officer’s Quarters (TOQ) was built like a low-budget motel. Her room had a bed, a desk, a television and a bathroom. Plus one other thing: a connecting door that led to a kitchenette that was shared with whoever held the room next door. It was a galley kitchen, barely big enough for two people standing sideways. But she had a box of Froot Loops and a coffeemaker in there, and she went right to work on her breakfast of champions.

She had a spoonful of cereal halfway to her mouth when her kitchen-mate walked in. She’d been told when she moved in that she’d be sharing with someone, and she hadn’t given it much thought. She’d had roommates before. No biggie.

That is, until she looked up. Milk dribbled from her spoon to her bowl as her half-naked marine esthetician stumbled toward the coffee.

2

CAPT. JASON WHITE WAS FACED with a no-win situation. He could turn tail and run, never a good option in his opinion. Or he could go for the coffee and face the subject of his weirdest erotic dream.

He had never wanted to be one of those metro guys who dressed fashionably and talked manicures. So why the hell had he dreamed he was giving a facial to his kitchen-mate? Not that it had been a bad thing. Turns out the chestnut-haired schoolteacher had bombshell breasts and he had gotten off on doing wonderful things with them. So had she, apparently, but he felt a little cheated that his own wet dream had stopped before the glorious finish. At least from his perspective. He didn’t mind being gentlemanly in real life. In fact, he insisted on it. But in the privacy of his own nighttime fantasies, he wanted his fair share.

But now he was standing right in front of the object of his most lustful fantasy. And worse, she was wearing a sundress that hinted at the glory of her breasts but didn’t actually confirm anything. And damn it, he wanted to know if what he’d dreamed was anything like the reality.

“Uh, good morning,” she said over her bowl of cereal as she hastily stepped back to give him room. Given the galley kitchenette, there really wasn’t anywhere for her to go, and she backed straight into the refrigerator. Her face was flushed, probably from her shower. And the towel that wrapped her hair started to tilt as it bumped the freezer handle. “Oh!” she gasped as she reached up to grab the towel. But in her hand she had a full bowl of Froot Loops, which was beginning to slosh.

He reacted on instinct. He grabbed her bowl, keeping it from spilling, but also wrapping his hand around one of hers. She had lovely hands, the fingers long and elegant but with blunt, unpolished nails that didn’t stab him. Her free hand went up to brace the towel, but it was too late. The thing came undone and her wet hair tumbled down.

Again, he just reacted. He caught the towel with his other hand, and then they were standing there, both of them with one hand on a bowl of cereal and the other on a wet towel. And all he could think was that she was close enough to kiss.

He watched her gaze dip to his chest and back up, and he knew she was thinking the same thing. He wasn’t vain or anything, but some things were obvious. He was just wearing a pair of shorts and after being blown sky-high in the Philippines, he’d lost a stone in weight. That left him thinner and weaker, but also gave him muscle definition like never before. In fact, his sister had asked if he could pose for her Men of the Military calendar. He’d declined that offer, but he wasn’t about to say no to his living erotic dream.

Too bad the woman wasn’t asking. She was just thinking, and as a gentleman and an officer, he just couldn’t make the first move. Not to a near stranger. So he opted for a simple “Good morning.”

“Sorry,” she muttered, trying to shy backward even farther though there was nowhere to go. “I’m such a klutz. Especially in the morning.”

“You weren’t being klutzy. It was the towel’s fault.” And so saying, he lifted the bowl from her hand to set on the counter. She went for the towel and pushed the wet hair out of her eyes.

“Dumb towels! Always getting in the way.”

“They’re a menace,” he said, nodding gravely though his lips were twitching. She made him want to smile, and given his past month, that was beyond incredible. Sadly, the humor faded as they both just stood there staring. She had beautiful eyes. Rich, brown and large, but there were crinkles on either side of them that told him she smiled a lot.

Lust slammed through him hard. From the moment his friend had given him the details on his new kitchen-mate, he’d known he was in trouble. He’d learned she was a hot, single kindergarten teacher, and since he’d always had a wholesome-girl fantasy, a sexy dream was the next logical step. He got off on the girl next door with the easy laugh. Given his rough childhood, he hadn’t known many girls who fit that profile. And here she was, standing before him like a Christmas present, waiting to be opened by him. Or so his libido believed.

Meanwhile, her blush was growing deeper, painting the skin of her chest a rosy hue. “Um, I’m sorry if I woke you,” she said. “I’m Christy Baker. I’m here for a few months to help with summer tutoring.”

“Yeah, I know. I saw you when you moved in and my buddy in housing mentioned it to me.” He didn’t mention that his buddy Mac had probably handpicked Miss Baker as his kitchen-mate for a not so ethical reason. Mac thought Jason desperately needed to get laid. Given his reaction to her, he couldn’t really argue. Jason held out his hand. “I’m Jason White. I’m here to … I’m here for a while. Hopefully not long.”

He was here on indefinite medical leave while the docs tried to get him to remember his last mission. There was something really important right there at the edge of his very messed up memory that he knew he had to get to. But it remained a stubborn blank wall. So he remained here.

“Um,” she said again, her blush reheating. “I’ve really got to get to school. Got a new student …”

It took him a second to realize she wanted out of the kitchenette. Well, of course she did. He probably looked really scary, some scarred-up stranger staring at her. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Right. Sorry.” He backed out of the tiny galley. “Can’t think right now.”

“Go ahead and take the rest of the coffee. I always make too much.”

“No such thing,” he said automatically. But that wasn’t the reason for his confusion. No, it was because all his blood was down south of his brain.

He backed up far enough that she didn’t have to touch him as she scooted out of the galley. But it wasn’t far enough to keep his lust in check. He got a full view of her profile, and damn, yes, there were those bombshell breasts bound in some iron-tight women’s bra. But what hit him just as hard was her scent. Clean and sweet. Some herbal shampoo and fresh water. No perfumes, no sweat, just clean, sweet woman. It was all he could do to stand there and not drag her into his caveman home.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. She was ducking into her room and quietly shutting the door before he lost control of his inner Neanderthal. Sadly, it didn’t help much. The flimsy door and the equally frail lock would be no match for him if he ever descended into real caveman mode.

The problem was that Miss Bombshell Schoolteacher was not a summer fling kind of girl. She was the marrying kind, and that made her strictly off-limits. He didn’t miss the irony that all those things that made her off-limits were the exact reasons he wanted her so badly. Completely aside from his girl-next-door fantasy, he’d just turned thirty last month. That was old enough to stop wanting to run around swamps looking for bad guys and start thinking about living stateside with a wife and kids.

But whereas Miss Christy would make a great wife and mother, he would make a lousy husband and father. Not with this hole in his memory and the nagging feeling that lives were at stake because he couldn’t get his brain to work right. His unit was still out in the Philippines, risking their lives looking for the chemical weapons factory that intel said was somewhere out there. And he knew he had the answer locked somewhere in the recesses of his memory.

Or at least he thought he knew it. Or he hoped he did.

He reached blindly across the kitchen for his mug of coffee.

He wasn’t a whole man. And only a cruel bastard got involved with a woman like Christy when he couldn’t move forward with his life. Not until he resolved this damn dilemma.

Problem was, his dick didn’t like thinking about “fair” or “forever.” His dick only wanted what it wanted.

Lord, he had better remember what he’d forgotten soon. Otherwise, his next-door schoolteacher was in for one hell of a summer.

OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD! Christy thought the words over and over as she left the kitchen to relive her mortification in private.

He was so hot! Ripped body, gorgeous tan and blue eyes. He had blue eyes! What angel had smiled on her to give her such an awesome kitchen-mate? No wonder she’d been dreaming about him. She’d probably seen him coming or going sometime yesterday and had constructed a fantasy. Who wouldn’t?

Oh, my God, was she still drooling?

And why was it the first time they’d met, she’d had her hair wrapped in a towel and was slurping Froot Loops. God, she had the worst luck ever. She took a deep breath and tried not to feel completely stupid over their encounter. But instead of reliving her humiliation, her mind went straight to that moment. It was the one where he’d been close enough to kiss.

He’d just taken the cereal from her suddenly weak wrists and she’d pulled the towel out of the way. And they’d just stood there looking at each other. She hadn’t thought about the wet strands of hair plastered against her cheek or that she probably had milk on her chin. She just had the strongest desire to kiss him. It would have been so easy! And he’d been right there.

She hated that her mind had gone straight to some very wicked places just because he had an amazing rock-hard body.

So she hadn’t given in to her dark fantasy. He was a person, damn it, not her personal sex toy. But wow, she’d give a lot to have a summer fling with him. That was not a politically correct thought, but right now, she didn’t care. She’d come to Hawaii to make a change, do new things, and a summer fling was something she’d never, ever done before. All the men she’d dated at home were bland, boring and treated her with kid gloves. A hot marine was as opposite from them as she could get.

Of course, there were a zillion sexy military guys all over this base, but Capt. Jason White was the one she wanted. He was the guy she prayed would fulfill her adolescent dream of a man out of his uniform. So long as he wasn’t in a relationship—and assuming she was clear that at the end of the summer, she was headed right back to Cincinnati—then there was nothing to stop two consenting adults from steaming up the Pacific island.

That was her plan. She was going to have a fling with her kitchen-mate. She just had to think of the right way to seduce him.

3

CHRISTY WATCHED JASON explode out of the water. He was like Adonis rising from the depths even though it was really the shallow end of the swimming pool. His golden body shed the water in sheets while errant drops clung and sparkled in the sunlight. It was a sight that could have been shot in slow mo and aired on movie screens all over the world. But you couldn’t tell that from his face.

No, despite the fact that Christy was only one of several women ogling his taut body and skimpy Speedos, Jason looked furious. It was a tightly controlled anger. He was a marine, after all, and she suspected he rarely lost control. But as he grabbed a towel and collapsed onto a beach chair, Christy felt his frustration as clearly as if it were tattooed across his rippling pecs.

So she did what she always did when she felt someone was in pain. She grabbed a bribe and waded right in.

“Hey,” she said.

He looked up and squinted at the bowl in her hand. “Hey,” he said.

“I brought this for you. It’s my specialty.” She tucked her sundress skirt beneath her as she settled into the chair beside him.

He took the bowl from her hand, probably more out of politeness than interest. But his eyes had lightened with humor as he looked back at her. “Ice-cream soup?”

She nodded. “I figured after that workout, you needed the calories way more than I did.”

His gaze traveled to the pool and his frown returned. “Yeah. Thanks.” He said it as if he meant it, but he set the bowl aside.

“Punishing yourself isn’t going to help anything.”

His gaze cut to her and there was a coldness there that would have been daunting to anyone who hadn’t grown up with two brothers. But she had, so she wasn’t fazed when he spoke in a clipped tone. “What did you say?”

She shrugged. “Yes, I know I’m being pushy and a busybody, but after that display, I figured someone had to talk to you before you ended up back in the hospital.” She’d done some subtle checking on her kitchen-mate since this morning. She hadn’t learned much. Just that he was here recovering from a medical problem. Since he wasn’t obviously limping or anything—though some of his scars looked very new—she guessed he was on the tail end of his physical recovery. About the time when the psychological stuff became really brutal.

His stare threatened to become a glower, but he held it back. Again, probably because he was being polite. “What display?” His voice was low and quiet, and it sent shivers down her spine.

She tried to speak gently. “You were attacking the water like a boxer might do to a punching bag, but it was water. And you were mad.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she held up her hand. She already knew he was about to tell her to go to hell. But she had extremely macho brothers, which gave her experience, and a need-to-help heart, which made her super-nosy. She couldn’t help it. It was how she was wired. “Summer of change” or not, that part of her personality wasn’t going anywhere.

“I know I’m butting in, so let me be short and sweet. My guess is that you’re pissed off because you somehow think your body has failed you. Logic doesn’t matter. Reason doesn’t make a dent. You’re a guy and a powerful one at that. Something happened and you realize that you can’t will your body into submission. So you’re mad and you’re punishing yourself—or rather your body—because of it. And again I say to you, that’s not going to get you where you want to go.” Then she picked up the ice cream and shoved it back into his hands. “So get some sugar into your blood, and then—after you’ve finished that bowl—you can tell me what I can do with my advice.”

He just stared at her. She’d seen the look before. Her brothers or her father would glare just like that when she managed to bully them into submission. She, the one who some days could barely walk, still had the spirit—and the mouth—to corner them. Annoyance was always clear on their faces, but also resignation. And a grudging respect. That was the best part: when her big bad brothers gave her a little respect.

Thankfully Jason was no different. He started to speak, but she quickly pointed to the bowl. So he lifted the spoon and began to eat her ice cream. And since he couldn’t talk, she decided to fill the silence with chatter.

She knew from experience that crowing about her victory was a bad choice. So she leaned into her chair and looked out across the crowd at the pool. “I didn’t spit in it or anything,” she said. “You probably weren’t thinking that, but my brothers would be. No, I just shared hot-fudge sundaes with my new student Judy. That’s her over there.”

She gestured across the pool to a freckle-faced twelve-year-old with strawberry-blond curls and a stick-thin figure. Jason followed the gesture, his eyes narrowing as he took in the girl who was hanging out at the side of a group of preteens. Judy’s whole posture screamed awkward, especially as she perched a half step back from the group, neither fully engaging nor backing away. Christy’s heart broke seeing the girl hovering there, watching life go by without grabbing hold.

“I’m tutoring her in algebra. Not my most favorite subject, but I’m beginning to realize math isn’t the real problem.” She fell silent, watching as Judy laughed too loud at some joke.

“What is?” Jason’s voice didn’t startle her as much as abruptly bring her attention back to him.

“What?” she asked.

“What is her problem if it’s not math?”

“Oh. Well, what is everyone’s problem at twelve? ‘How do I fit in? I’m ugly. They think I’m a dork. I am a dork.’ You know how it goes.”

She glanced over at him, seeing his thoughtful gaze on the girl. He didn’t say anything, and Christy noted with approval that he had indeed finished all the ice cream. Then she realized what she’d just said. He wouldn’t have been an awkward twelve-year-old. More likely, he’d been the scrappy kid everyone allowed into whatever group simply because no one could ever say no to him.

“Oh,” she said out loud. “You probably don’t remember an awkward phase. That wouldn’t have been your problem.”

His gaze cut hard back to her. “And what would have been my problem?”

“Not failing at anything you put your mind to.”

His eyebrows arched. “That’s a problem?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, it is, the minute you hit an obstacle you can’t will your way through.”

He snorted. “I’m a marine. I’m used to impossible obstacles.”

“Which you overcome. Until you hit the one you can’t.”

He shrugged, but the gesture appeared forced. “There’s always a way through or around something. And if there isn’t, you learn how to accept and go on.”

She stretched out her legs in front of her. “So how’s that going, big guy? The accepting part?”

He didn’t answer and in a moment, she wasn’t surprised when he turned the conversation to her. Conversational aggression, a patented guy technique to avoid facing more personal issues. “So what are you going to do about Judy?”

She looked at him. “Do? What do you mean, do? I’m going to tutor her in algebra.”

“But you said that’s not her real problem.” He gestured again to where the girl was still half attached to the group as the others gathered their stuff to go somewhere. Even from here, she could hear the girl thinking: Do I force myself on them? No one invited me to join. Am I pushing in where I’m not wanted? I should just go home. No one wants me here anyway.

Sure enough the other kids started moving away. One of the girls hesitated, looking back uncertainly at Judy. But then one of the boys said something and she turned away, the invitation unspoken. Judy lifted her hand in a sad little wave as everyone else moved on. Then a second later, she swatted at a nearby chair and shuffled off in the opposite direction.

Heartbreaking.

Christy sighed. Childhood sucked. It shouldn’t, but it usually did.

“Someone needs to talk to the other kids. Get them to bring her along.”

She canted a glance at Jason. “‘Cause that’s gonna help. An adult ordering the others to accept her. Any friendships she makes will always be cast in doubt.”

His frown deepened. “So you just leave her to sink or swim on her own?”

“So I feed her ice-cream sundaes even though I’m on a diet and I get her to talk about who she is inside. If I accept her, maybe she’ll be strong enough to risk showing that to someone else too.”

He chewed on that for a moment. “That’s pretty deep for a summer tutor.” He said it like a compliment, so she took it as such.

“There are no shortcuts, even in childhood. Especially in childhood. We want to go fix it for her, but all we can do is give them the space to be who they really are. The rest falls where it will.”

“Voice of experience?”

She laughed. “You asking if my early years in teaching had me telling kids who to accept and how to play? Well, yeah, it did. But I also spent a lot of years watching from the sidelines. I picked up a few things along the way.” She smiled. “Mom used to say I was psychic. I knew things about people without being told. Truth is, I’m just really, really observant.”

“I’m observant,” he said. “You’re … a lot more than that.”

“Okay, so maybe observant plus experienced.” She glanced at his empty bowl. “Feeling better now that you’ve got some blood sugar?”

He snorted again, obviously about to deny it. But he didn’t speak. Instead he gave her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, all right. Maybe things look better after ice cream.”

“Always my motto.”

“Or maybe it’s because I’m sitting next to a gorgeous woman who does not need to be on a diet.”

A smooth move if ever there was one. Smooth and obvious, but that didn’t stop the zing of excitement deep in her belly. But before she could respond, a quick flash of regret hit his face before he turned away. Like he was sorry for taking the conversation to a sexual level.

“Jason?”

“Hmm? Oh, I was just thinking that I’m feeling restless. It’s not good for a marine to be restless. I need to do something.”

Now, it was her turn to snort. “So we’re back to punishing yourself.”

“What?” The word was clipped and hard.

She gestured again at the pool. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that your extra anxiety has nothing to do with a problem you can’t solve. Tell me that you’re not burning energy out of anger and I’ll shut up. But you seem awful pissed off to me.”

“I’m not angry!” he snapped. Then he abruptly flushed and moderated his tone. “I mean, yeah, maybe I’m frustrated, but when I’m angry, believe me, you’ll know it. Everybody knows it.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward a bit. “I’m a yeller. When I get angry, I get right in the asshole’s face and just let fly.”

“That’s not anger. That’s a military thing. You call it discipline and whatever. But if I had to guess, you tuck fury deep inside, bury it hard. Then you go blow something up. Don’t marines like explosives? Like to an unhealthy degree?”

He didn’t answer for a long while. She found she liked that about him. That he didn’t blurt out the first thing that came to his mind like she often did. No, he was a thoughtful man. And then, he smiled at her. A slow smile that had her thoughts heading somewhere very different indeed.

“I’m going with your mom,” he said. “Definitely psychic.”

“Don’t I wish. It would make tutoring a zillion times easier. Or maybe not. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know what my fifteen-year-old boys are thinking.”

Jason chuckled. “I’m pretty sure you already do know what they’re thinking. Especially if you were wearing that dress. And I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be in words. More like graphic—”

“Stop!” she said, laughing. “I really don’t want to think about my students in those terms.”

“Fair enough!” he said as he abruptly surged to his feet. “Come on. I feel like a bike ride. Wanna join me?”

She smiled up at him. He was holding out his hand, offering to help her up. She took it, almost shyly, not because she was embarrassed about touching him. On the contrary, with the things she was thinking, hands were the smallest of touches she wanted to share with him. It was more about his unexpected offer. A bike ride. When was the last time someone had asked her to go riding?

“I …” she began.

“Do you have another tutoring appointment?”

“No. No, I’m done for the day. But …” But what? She rapidly thought of an excuse. “I don’t have a bike.”

“That’s okay. They rent them along the beach. Come on. It’ll be my treat.”

She shook her head. “There’s no way I can keep up with you. You’ll spend the whole time irritated because I’m huffing and puffing behind you.”

He frowned. “What am I? Eight? I’m not talking about training.”

“Good, because you already did that in the pool.”

He shrugged. “I’m talking about a leisurely bike ride. I’ll show you the base and stuff.”

She hesitated, but only for a moment. After all, wasn’t this why she was in Hawaii in the first place? To do things that no one ever asked her to do? To push her limits without someone coddling her? An afternoon bike ride was exactly what she needed to do. She’d be fine if they went slow.

“Okay,” she said. “Lead on. I’ll follow.” Or die trying.

4

WELL, SHE CERTAINLY WASN’T an athlete. Jason smiled as Christy huffed out another breath. They had finally biked their way to the rise on a very small hill. Her cheeks were flushed, her breasts bounced distractingly as she moved, and she was so cute that he was rock hard just from seeing her pant.

“Look at that view,” she breathed as she gestured out at the rolling waves of the Pacific.

He was looking at the view he wanted to see, but he forced himself to look away. Especially since he was not in a place right now to start a relationship. Even a temporary one. And definitely not one with a settle-down-and-marry girl like Christy. Still, it was awful hard to bring himself to look at the waves.

“Ooh! I think those are dolphins!” She hopped off her bike. He saw her grimace as she stepped down and wondered if she’d twisted her ankle, but she was walking just fine as she stepped to the edge of the path. The view wasn’t all that great. She had to peak through a small break between two buildings and below the waving fronds of some big tree. That, naturally, had him stepping right up behind her to see where she was pointing.

His hands actually itched with the desire to wrap around her waist and pull her against him. She was wearing shorts and a loose tee that could be lifted up with the slightest effort. Her scent spiced the air and just the tiniest tilt of his head would have him nuzzling her neck. But he held himself back.

“Nice,” he said, not meaning the dolphins.

She twisted to look back over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were sparkling. “You’re not even looking.”

“Yes, I am,” he answered absolutely deadpan.

She tried to shove him backward. He didn’t move. He liked being close to her, even though he’d just told himself to leave her alone. Truthfully, he liked everything he’d discovered about her. Easy on the eyes was only one of her attributes. She laughed a lot. She spoke her mind. And she even had a kid’s enjoyment of biking even though she was obviously not used to it. It was as if this whole bike ride was a special treat for her. One that he got to share.

That was sexy as hell, and he had to remind himself to remain a gentleman. Meanwhile, she rolled her eyes.

“You guys are all the same. Never notice the tropical scenery. Just the girl in the bikini.”

“Wait,” he said with a mock frown. “There’s a tropical scene somewhere?”

“The bikini girls are over there,” she said, gesturing down at the beach.

His gaze didn’t even flicker. “You don’t need a bikini to make guys look at you.”

He spoke the absolute truth, but she turned away as if embarrassed. It wasn’t false modesty, he realized. She really was uncomfortable with her body’s appearance.

“Hey,” he said, touching her shoulder. “I was trying to give you a compliment.”

She twisted to face him, bit her lip, then said, “You know how you always want what you don’t have? Well, I’ve always wanted to be fit and toned like them.” She gestured toward the girls playing beach volleyball. “Instead, I’m soft, round and have a full rack.”

He arched his brows at her semicrude term, but it didn’t throw him. He liked that she was speaking honestly to him, so he answered in kind. “Guys like full racks.”

“That’s all guys see. Clothes never fit right, guys assume I’m easy, and people think I’m lazy because of the weight.”

He didn’t know how to answer that. She was right in part. Her breasts were the first thing people noticed about her. But in a good way, not bad. At least as far as he was concerned. She crossed her arms, distracting him again, which probably made her point.

“You’re not fat,” he said emphatically.

“Thank you, and I know I work hard to keep it that way. I just wish … I just wish I had a different body, that’s all.”

He frowned, a little disappointed in her. She seemed like such a confident woman, it surprised him that she had issues with her appearance. He’d known scores of women who obsessed endlessly about ridiculous “flaws” in their appearance. Your body was your body. There were lots of ways to get it healthier, but wishing to be taller, chestier or whatever was a waste of time.

She was moving back to her bike, slipping around him as best as she could. Moving completely on impulse, he held out his arm to block her path.

“I could help you get more fit,” he offered. “Simple exercises to improve your cardio, light weights. Nothing—”

“Nothing like what a marine does before breakfast?”

He flashed a rueful smile. “No one expects you to be a marine. But if you want to be more fit, then do it. An hour a day—”

“Will keep the doctor away. Maybe for you, but I’m civilian all the way. I’ll never be able to keep up.”

She moved around him to get back to her bike, and this time he let her. She walked stiffly while he just stood there and watched her, pieces slowly fitting into place. “Your father was military, right?”

“Air force. Why?”

“And did you have brothers?”

“Two. Air force and navy, respectively.”

“So you were the only girl?”

“Yeah. The youngest of three.”

Now he began to understand. “That must have sucked growing up. No way a younger girl can keep up with two older brothers. Physically it just can’t happen. So why bother?”

She studied him, obviously thinking. He liked that she was listening to him, actively processing his words instead of merely reacting. In the end she released a heavy sigh. “You know why I teach kindergarten?”

He shook his head. Truthfully, he hadn’t known what grade she taught in Ohio.

“Because the kids don’t let me tank out. Any other grade, you can sit at a desk at least part of the time. You can rest a bit, take a load off, do something less physically demanding.”

“Not in kindergarten, huh?”

She scoffed. “The last time I took a five-minute break, Joey stuffed a Barbie shoe into his nose.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. You’d think he wouldn’t have pushed something that pointy up there, but he did.”

“And you learned to never sit again.”

“Oh, I do. After school. But for eight hours a day—I teach both shifts—I’m moving all the time. Because the kids demand it.”

He frowned, working to sort through her message. “Are you trying to say that you work hard enough?”

“No. I’m saying that without someone forcing me, I don’t work at all. A little cardio would be good for me. I can try an hour a day.”

“I’m not forcing you,” he said. “You have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupted. “You’re not forcing anything on me at all.” Then she eyed the path, looking both ahead and behind. “So you think you can find a way back that will take an hour? A light hour.”

He smiled. “Yes, ma’am, I can.”

In truth, the journey took an hour and fifteen, and at the end of it, he could tell she was wiped. By the time they made it to her room door, he could tell they’d overdone it. Her gait was very stiff, but she was also smiling, clearly happy. And he had never felt so relaxed either. They’d managed to talk for almost the entire ride. He used it to gauge her exertion level, but honestly, it had been awesome to swap childhood stories.

She’d grown up on base with older brothers who found ways to run wild. He’d grown up on the poor side of Indianapolis where running wild was the only way to survive. There was a lot in common between them, yet also enough of a difference to make the telling exciting. But now that the time was over, he found himself looking down into her eyes and wanting something so much more from her than shared stories.

“This was great. I had a great time,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, looking at her lips. “Um, hey, make sure to pop some ibuprofen. Don’t want you sore tomorrow.”

An expression flashed across her face that he couldn’t read. Humor? Regret? Annoyance? He really had no idea and the second it registered, it disappeared. Then it occurred to him that she might not have any pills. It probably wasn’t the lifesaving staple that it was for marines.

“You know, I have a whole bottle—”

“I got some. Don’t worry. I’ll medicate.”

And then they both just stood there, her with her back to her door, him leaning over her about half a breath away from kissing her.

“You were right,” he said abruptly.

She blinked. “About what?”

“Earlier. When you said I was mad about something. About how my body has betrayed me somehow.” He slumped against the wall, knowing he needed to confess this now or he’d never get it out. “I was in a jeep and we drove over an IED.”

She gasped. “An IED like a bomb IED?”

He nodded. “Yeah. We were lucky that it was really badly made. Five of us, and we all got out alive.”

He saw the shudder run through her whole body, and remembered why he didn’t talk about these things with civilians. It was horrible, but it was also something marines learned to deal with from day one. They could get blown up any minute. If you were lucky, you survived. Nobody liked it, but you either dealt with it or went nuts.

“I’m fine, obviously. Weak, out of shape, but coming back.”

“You’re not weak, Jason. You’re a moron if you think you’re weak.”

He dipped his chin. “Okay, I’m weaker than I used to be. But like I said, my strength’s coming back. But there’s a different problem.”

She watched him closely, clearly waiting for him to continue without pushing him to speak before he was ready. It took him a breath, but he got there.

“I’ve got amnesia. I can’t remember stuff before or after getting blown up.”

“I’d think that was normal. And that you probably won’t get everything back.”

He nodded. “That’s what the docs say.”

He’d gone over it a thousand times in his head. The mission had been to find a biological weapons factory. They knew it was somewhere in the Philippines. That’s it. Somewhere in a whole freaking country. But using logic—and a lot of footwork—they’d found it. Or rather, Jason had found it. He’d figured out where the thing was right before getting blown up by the IED. And now he couldn’t remember where it was.

His unit continued on, doing what they’d been doing. Logic, intel, on-foot searching, the whole nine yards, but they weren’t getting anywhere. Jason could fix it all. He had the answer. It was just locked up tight in his brain, hanging there behind a big wall of nothing. He couldn’t even begin to express how frustrated and angry that made him.

Meanwhile Christy touched his chest. She put her fingers right on his sternum, and it was like getting touched by a branding iron. He felt every one of her fingertips. Not painfully hot, but just there. Like he would remember her fingers on his chest until the day he died.

“So what’s the problem?” she asked gently.

“There’s something important that I have to remember. That’s the one thing I do remember—telling my best friend that I knew where it was. See, our mission was to find something. And Danny said I’d just figured it out when it happened.”

“When you drove over the IED?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed and looked down at the floor wishing for the zillionth time that he could break through the damn wall in his brain. “I knew something. I knew where it was. I’m sure of it.”

“But you can’t remember?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“So you’re pissed.”

“Yeah.” She’d summed it up perfectly. He was angry about getting blown up. Angry that he couldn’t remember. Angry that it was right there, but he couldn’t grab hold of it. “My guys are still searching. They’re still risking their lives because I can’t think of where the damn thing is. And I’m … here.”

“Healing,” she said firmly. “You’re here healing. You have to do that before you can remember.”

He banged his head against the wall, then stopped when he saw her wince. “I know,” he said, forcing himself to keep his tone level. “I know, but I’m impatient.”

“There’s a shocker … not.”

He smiled at her wry tone. “The thing is,” he said slowly, without looking at her, “I’m messed up right now. I’m angry and frustrated and in therapy, which really is no fun at all.” He heard her chuckle at that but didn’t move. “And the minute I do remember, I’m out of here. I’m going to have to go back to my unit and help them. That’s my job.”

“Okay,” she said. “Why are you telling me this?”

He opened his eyes and went for brutal honesty. “Because I want to kiss you right now, but I can’t. First off, I’m not me. Not the normal me.”

“You’re changing. That’s not abnormal, it’s just different.”

“Different is still not the time to start things with a girl.”

She grimaced, but he didn’t let her comment.

“And besides,” he rushed on, “I’m leaving at any time. The second I remember, I’m gone. No warning, no nothing. I’ll just be gone.”

“I grew up on base. I know about here today and gone tomorrow.”

He reached out and stroked her cheek. God, she was so pretty. Her eyes were huge, her skin soft, and her lips were right there. What he wouldn’t give to sink right into them. Into her.

“I’m not going to do that to you. Or to me. I don’t want to be thinking about you when I should be focused on my men. On whatever it is I need to remember—”

“I get it.” She’d interrupted him, her voice low, but she repeated it louder when he stopped talking. “I get it. I don’t like it, but I’ve learned that when a marine gets stubborn, there’s nothing I can do to change his mind.”

He frowned, startled by a sudden surge of jealousy. “You spend much time with marines?”

She laughed, the sound light, and it warmed him despite the fact that he was putting the brakes on their relationship. “Let’s just say that in some ways, there’s little difference between a stubborn marine, a stubborn air force officer and a stubborn six-year-old. You’re not going to listen to me. All I can hope is that you’ll catch a clue and come knocking on my door sometime soon.” Then her eyes met his. “No strings attached.”

His breath caught. She was offering him a fling. A no-strings-attached hot—

She kissed him. She had to go up on her toes to do it, but one second she was looking at him and the next her mouth was pressed up to his. And she was doing something with her tongue that shorted out his brain.

A split second later, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her tight. Her mouth opened beneath his, and he went straight in. He heard a soft sound, a womanly sound that was half delight, half surrender, and his blood fired hot. He pressed her against her door and owned her mouth like he was staking a claim.

It went on for much too long. Or not long enough. He adored the feel of her, soft in the right places and solid in the rest. She kissed like a dream, and he was finally skimming his hands underneath her shirt when a noise in the hallway alerted him.

It was nothing really. Some kids were playing outside. One of them laughed, loud and raucous. But he was a marine and trained to pay attention to outside noises. To realize that he was about to strip her naked in a public hallway. And to know that this was a bad idea even though every cell in his body was pushing him to take the two steps into her bedroom and do what they both wanted.

So he broke the kiss, dropped his forehead against hers and just breathed. Breathed in, breathed out. And waited for the lust to fade.

It took a really long time.

“I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” she said, her breath curling about his neck and kicking his pulse into overdrive.

“It’s too fast,” he said. “I can’t think.”

She laughed, though the sound was forced. “I never thought I’d be the one trying to convince a guy to have a summer fling with me.”

His body tightened against her despite his intention to pull away. She gasped and his blood roared. But he was a man, damn it, not an animal. He was not a slave to his lusts, and he would not walk down a road that he knew was wrong. Despite her words of a summer fling, she would fall deep and hard. She was just that kind of girl. And, truthfully, he was that kind of guy.

“I don’t have summer flings,” he said. “I don’t have a girl in every port and I don’t seduce women just because it will feel so damn good.”

She touched his face, her fingers gentle and her question honest. “Why not?”

“Because when I go for a woman, I go for keeps. I proposed to my high school girlfriend and when I caught her with someone else I joined the navy. I’ve dated other women, but they weren’t right and I knew it.”

She let out a little moue of regret. “So you already know I’m not the right one.”

“I don’t know any damn thing!” he snapped, his frustration making his hands fist against the wall. “I only know that I can’t remember and that I have to and you’re a distraction.”

“Sometimes a distraction is a good thing. Ever think you’re trying too hard?”

“Every damn day. But I can’t not think about it either.” He forced himself to step away from her. It was hard, but he did it. “I’m messed up, Christy. Which means that this is not the time for me to do anything with a woman. It’s not fair to either of us.”

She nodded. The gesture was slow and filled with an embarrassed kind of pain. He’d rejected her and that had to sting. But he knew she understood. He wasn’t rejecting her, he was rejecting the situation. Romance was not a complication he could afford right now.

“Maybe after I remember … After I figure out—”

She held up a hand. “Don’t make it worse, Jason. You’re not ready for anything more. I get it.” She sighed. “And you’re probably right. I don’t know that I’m good at flings either.”

It bothered him that she was even thinking of a summer fling. It bothered him in a Neanderthal kind of possessive way, and he ruthlessly pushed that thought aside. Meanwhile, she opened her room door.

“I think I’m going to take a shower now. Maybe a bath too.”

He didn’t understand what that meant, but didn’t comment on it. “Good idea. I might do the same.” Though the idea that they would both be wet and naked some few feet away from each other was not going to help their situation.

“I still had a great time today, Jason.”

“Yeah, me too.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but in the end, she gave him a little wave and stepped into her room. He stood there watching the door close, feeling like a rejected suitor—and the irony of that wasn’t lost on him. Then he shoved his hands into his shorts and headed for his own shower: a cold one.

It worked for a while. He managed to not think about her for at least two or three seconds. He grabbed some dinner and ate it morosely, all the time wondering what she was eating and what she would think of the soggy fries or the bad O-Club decor. And when he wandered back to his room that evening, he looked at the stars and remembered how she had been so excited at seeing the dolphins.

And then he went to bed and dreamed about her.

5

CHRISTY WAS DREAMING. She knew she was dreaming because she felt no pain. She was walking through the base on her way to the swimming pool and her knees didn’t creak, there was no persistent ache in her hips, and even her spine felt like it was fresh and new.

She took a deep breath, loving the feel of such easy movement. And as she exhaled, she saw him: Jason. Adonis rising from the depths of the swimming pool, his body all sleek and golden. She saw his scars with new understanding now. She recognized the anger that haunted his expression and added a clipped edge to his gestures. She knew the source now, and her heart ached for him.

But this was a sunlit dream, and there was no time for pain here. So when a child ran past her chasing a Frisbee, she laughed at his antics. He tripped over something, but he scrambled to his feet and ran on. If she wanted too, she could run after him. She could run and play as she’d never been able to as a child. There was no pain here. Except, of course, Jason’s pain.

She turned away from the children. She was interested in more adult entertainment anyway. So she took Jason’s hand and together they walked. They ended up on the beach, the people and the background melting away as they can in dreams. She didn’t care. All that mattered was the man beside her.

“I understand your choice,” she said. “You were probably right to stop us before.”

“Christy,” he said, the word half worship, half desperate longing.

She touched her fingers to his lips. “This is a dream, Jason. And here, I can do what I wanted to before. Here, I can give you some little release because you won’t let me in real life.”

“I wanted to. I wanted you,” he said against her fingers.

“Shh,” she whispered as she pulled her hand back so she could kiss his mouth. “Let me do this. Because I really want to.”

She stroked her tongue across his lips. He opened for her and they played together like that for a bit. His arms wrapped around her and she gloried in his strength. But soon, she wanted more and so she broke from his arms.

“Don’t move,” she said. “Not even a little bit.”

He tilted his head, his brows arched in surprise.

“My dream. My rules.” Then she grinned at him. “Parade rest, soldier.”

“I’m a marine, Christy.”

“Oh, right. Parade rest, sailor.”

“Aye-aye,” he answered. Then he widened his stance and locked his hands behind his back. She stepped back a bit to admire him. His broad shoulders, his golden skin over washboard abs, and his wonderful erection. Clothing was strictly forbidden in her dream.

Now she could kiss him at her leisure, wherever and however she wanted to. His mouth, his chiseled chin, and his neck were first. But she quickly went lower, glorying in the ripples of his chest, the tight bud of his nipples, and the way his heart thundered beneath her lips.

He tasted like sunshine and strength to her. Like every stroke of her tongue brought forth sparks of bright light that tingled in her mouth. And when she swallowed, she brought his lightness into herself, letting it warm her body and electrify her blood.

The strength came from her, though. Because in this dream, her joints were normal and movement was easy. She could do as she willed with him, without fear of spending days in aching stillness on her bed. And better yet, as she used her most powerful body, she could bring this god of a man to quivering lust. She could make him weak with hunger until he collapsed at her feet.

At least that was her plan, and so she set about doing it with leisurely skill.

She kissed down his belly, nipped at the tattooed bird on his hip, and then inhaled deeply of his musk as she finally got to stroke his erection. She was on her knees now before him, but it was a ridiculously easy position to hold. One glance up at his face told her his breath was coming in ragged pants and his eyes were burning for her.

“Christy—” he began, but she shook her head.

“Not a word, not a move, Jason. Not until you collapse at my feet.”

“But you don’t have to—”

“I do,” she said.

He took a deep breath, his chest expanding. And then as he exhaled, she felt his buttocks tighten and his body ready itself for her. Then just before she took him in her mouth, he said something that stopped her cold.

“You don’t have to do it clothed, do you? You can give me a peek, can’t you? Even if I can’t touch.”

She blinked, startled that he would ask such a thing in her dream. Her attention had been on what she was about to do, not on how she looked. But he’d made her think of it, and so she complied. Better yet, since this was a dream, she could perform acrobatic feats that would be impossible in real life.

“Very well,” she said. Then she rose up before him. She was dressed in her usual yellow sundress. Nothing fancy, but this one had a zipper in back. It was a simple matter to reach behind and slowly pull down the zipper. And then she let the dress drop off her shoulders to pool at her feet. Even in dreams, she wore a full support bra and panties. Though this set was made of black lace that stood out against her stark white skin.

“You have the most gorgeous body,” he breathed. “Great breasts, and your waist is perfect. And turn around. Please turn around. I’ve been staring at your ass for two days now and all you’ve worn are skirts or loose shorts. Let me see it for real.”

She straightened, surprised by his words. Had he really been looking at her butt? Really?

She stood before him, slowly stretching her arms above her head. She watched his eyes flow over her breasts and he licked his lips. Slowly she turned around, but twisted enough to see his face. Damn, his eyes definitely dropped to her bottom.

“Permission to touch?” he asked.

She grinned. It was thrilling to have a man look at something other than her oversize breasts. “Granted, sailor.”

His hands found her bottom immediately. And though he’d gotten to her fast, his caress was anything but. He stroked slowly over her hips before cupping her ass. Just to see how he’d react, she slowly bent over.

He groaned, and the sound seemed to travel straight from the depths of him, enough to make her arch.

“Christy,” he whispered, and she felt him step forward.

She leaped away because here she could do that without wincing. “Back into position, sailor!” she cried.

He froze, and the look on his face was comical. “But—”

“My dream. My rules.”

He frowned at her and returned to parade rest. But he seemed downright confused as he shook his head. “I must have a really twisted subconscious.”

She smiled and returned to facing him. “You mean my subconscious, sweetie.” She popped her bra and pulled it away. His eyes practically bugged out of his head. “And why wouldn’t I want to dominate a ripped marine?” She hooked her thumbs under the straps of her thong and shimmied it down.

His penis twitched as she moved. She knew he was holding himself back, but his gaze all but burned her wherever it touched. And it did touch her everywhere.

“I take it back,” he said. “My subconscious knows exactly what I like.”

“Really?” she said as she teased him. “Does it like this?” She lifted her breasts, one in each hand. She began to knead them, pretending to get herself really hot. Except, of course, it wasn’t pretend. Especially as she widened her legs and began to stroke herself. She’d never done that in front of a man. Couldn’t even imagine doing it anywhere except for right here. Right in front of a man who could overpower her in a second, but chose—by her command—to keep himself absolutely still.

She didn’t come. That wasn’t what this dream was about. And though she was definitely worked up, she wanted to touch him. So she eventually returned to her knees in front of him.

She stroked his penis, loving the velvet feel of his skin, the thick pulse she imagined in her hand, and the wet slide of moisture at his tip. She could see the sunshine where she touched him. A light that seemed to come from inside him, but flowed hot and hungry into her. It was desire, she realized. Hot, wicked hunger for her. And maybe some love, too. There was some emotion there that went beyond sex. She was sure of it even if she didn’t examine it too closely. Whatever it was, she wanted more, and so she bent her head and took him in.

She played with him then, however she wanted. Stroking his penis with her tongue, caressing his ass with her hands. Soon, his body was shaking. She knew he was close and she wanted it all. Right now. Sunshine and desire, all mixed together in this dream, and she demanded every iota of what he had to give.

She felt him erupt.

Bliss!

She drank it all and felt filled with light.

CHRISTY WOKE with a cry that quickly changed into a gasp of pain. After such lightness of heart and body, it was a cruel trick to dump her back into her real body. She tried to move, feeling how stiff every joint was, and wincing as both knees crackled.

She glanced at her wristwatch. Barely 2:00 a.m. She grabbed the glass of water and pills she’d left on the nightstand and swallowed them as fast as possible. She was pushing the dosage. She’d hoped to sleep through until morning. But she hadn’t, and no way could she last until morning awake. So she took the pills and lay like a corpse in her bed. Sometimes, if she didn’t move at all, the pain eased enough for her to sleep.

Or other times—and apparently this was one of them—the pressure to move built up and she knew she’d have to go for option two. It was a ridiculous thing to do. She knew that. Her father hated it and her mother usually hid in the bedroom when she did it. But every doctor she’d spoken to about it had shrugged and encouraged her to pursue whatever worked. She had tried to wait it out. Sometimes that worked. But not tonight. She was too keyed up after the day—and the dream—spent with Jason.

So, option two. She supported herself and managed to get out of bed, stabilizing her swollen feet beneath her, and hobbled as carefully as she could to the bathroom. She tried not to bend too much as she walked, keeping her knees to a very easy angle and her spine stiff with almost no rotation. It wasn’t so much the bright flashes of pain. Those happened intermittently, and she’d long since learned to accept them. It was the gnawing ache of every step, every breath, every movement.

Her joints were swollen and they didn’t want to move. Predictably, the worst was in her knees. After all the biking, she knew that might happen. But there was pain in her ankles, which led to swollen feet and the like. If she let it continue, the ache would tighten up her shoulders which would lead to a raging headache. Option two was designed to head that off at the pass.

She made it to the bathroom and plugged the tub. She ran the cold water then hobbled her way to the kitchen. She’d already made the ice just in case. It was the first thing she did when coming to a new place, and so she had plenty of ice cubes stored up.

It took a few minutes, but soon she was dumping the ice bucket into the water and waiting while the tub finished filling. And then, her ice bath was ready.

She stripped out of her nightgown, tossing it aside. Then she stretched herself across the tub, lifting a leg, poising herself for the drop. It was always best to submerge fast. Inch by inch never worked.

She took a few deep breaths, the pressure to act building in her mind. There was something that clicked deep inside her when it finally reached a certain level. Pain, pressure or just neuroses, it didn’t matter. It was time.

She dropped herself into the ice water.

She gasped, her mind going white in shock. Her entire body seemed to seize up, drawing tight to her spine. Even her breath shrunk to nothing as her diaphragm froze.

Cold. Mind-numbing cold rolled into her consciousness. As if her whole body were lost to one long scream of agony. But if she waited long enough the scream faded. It grew distant, like a train whistle shrinking into the background. And with it went all sensation. What remained was silence. And blessed numbness. She felt nothing but the lingering impression of pain somewhere so removed from her blanked mind as to be completely unimportant.

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