Jessica Bird - Me Without You

“You run a B and B out of the mansion, don’t you?”

“Yes. That’s why we want to move fast.”

Cass thought about it for a moment. “We could go tomorrow morning before Sean and I leave for the city.”

“That would be wonderful. I didn’t want to ask you, but we’d really appreciate your guidance.”

“How much did the fire take?”

“The kitchen and the staff quarters got the worst of it, but two guest bedrooms were damaged as well. Fortunately, the insurance company is going to pay up.”

“Well…I’d love to take a look at it.”

When dinner was over, Cass helped Libby clean up in the kitchen. By the time they were finished, all the guests had turned in for the night. As Cass headed upstairs, she told herself there was no reason to go back to Alex’s room.

She was arguing with herself when she realized she was standing in front of his door.

Slowly turning the knob, she put her head in. In the glow from the bedside lamp, she saw that he was still lying on top of the covers. There was a book facedown in his lap and his eyes were squeezed shut. Although he might have technically been asleep, considering the tension in his face, he was not resting.

Stepping inside, she shut the door so light from the outside hall wouldn’t wake him up. She was very quiet as she walked through the dim room, focusing only on the man stretched out so immense and motionless on the bed. When her foot knocked into something, she looked down. It was a scotch bottle that was mostly empty. As she righted the thing, she glanced at the prescription pills by the lamp. She recognized some of the names. They were big-league painkillers.

She watched his breathing. It was very slow.

What if he’d mixed the drugs with alcohol?

She glanced at the plate. At least he’d eaten most of the food she’d brought him.

“Alex?” she said softly.

She touched his forearm. His skin was warm.

“Alex?”

Bending down, she took a sniff through her nose. She couldn’t detect any liquor smell at all, and his breathing was regular.

He’s fine, she thought. Just asleep. So pick up that plate and leave the poor man alone.

Instead, she stared down at his face, thinking about the way he’d lashed out at her and then apologized with such rough honesty.

On a crazy impulse she put her hand out and touched his cheek.

She immediately reeled her arm back in. Boy, he’d have tossed her out on her ass if he’d been awake.

But he wasn’t. And the hard lines of his face drew her like nothing ever had.

She reached out again.

Alex came awake the moment something brushed over his cheek, but he didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t tell whether he was dreaming or not.

Then the touch came back. This time on the side of his jaw.

He breathed deeply, trying to rouse himself to consciousness, but when he caught the scent of herbs, he stopped the fight. He took in another lungful of air just to be sure.

When the smell of rosemary came again, he wanted to weep. His dreams, so horrible, so cruel, had finally brought Cassandra to him.

He shifted his head, trying to get closer to her touch.

“It’s you, Miracle,” he whispered. “It’s truly you….”

The touch disappeared. He made a sound of protest in his throat. He couldn’t have her in the real world, couldn’t bear the shame of betraying his best friend. But in this dream she could be his. At least for a small while. At least in a small way.

“Please,” he begged softly, raggedly. “Please, just once more. Touch me.”

When he felt the sensation return, this time there was more of it, as if she’d laid her palm against his face. He nuzzled her soft hand, rubbing his skin against hers. Then he kissed the pad of her thumb.

He heard an indrawn breath. Not his own.

Alex didn’t think twice about what he did next. In this twilight fantasy, he could be free with the woman he loved. He could know her touch and she could know his and it would be all right. Because dreams weren’t real.

He took her hand and drew it down the side of his throat, until it was under the collar of his shirt. He moved her palm back and forth, stroking himself with her flesh, relishing the knowledge that it was her.

In a wicked rush, he wanted to feel her touch all over him. And he wanted to touch her. With his hands. His mouth. His whole body.

He shifted his head back, pushing his neck up into her caress. His shirt was blocking her access so he popped the buttons free, wondering dimly why in his dream he wasn’t naked.

There was a gasp as he took her hand and moved it down his chest. Had he made the sound? Maybe.

Except as he was taking her touch over his stomach, the swift inhale came again and he thought, no, that wasn’t him. It was her. And the sound told him she liked what his shirt had revealed, that she liked touching him.

But then why did her hand resist when he got to the waistband of his pajama bottoms? Abruptly he became aware of a weight at his hips. A book, he thought. There was a book on top of his hot erection.

Man, he was going to have to work on his fantasies. Clothes. Books. For God’s sake, he should make it easier on them.

He let go of her hand and pushed the hardcover off his body. Arching his back and carrying the movement into his hips, he wanted her to see what her touch did to him. How ready he was for her. And he was hoping that she’d stroke him there. Where he ached for her so badly.

There was a hiss. Followed by something close to a groan.

Alex arched for her again, confused when she still hesitated. He could hear the sex in her voice, the feminine need. And her palm remained on his stomach, her touch like sunlight. She just wasn’t moving.

So he placed his hand over hers and guided her lower. Then lower still.

The moment she made contact with his hard length, the groan was his, the hoarse words pumping through the thick air. He’d meant the intimacy to be just a beginning for them, but his body had different ideas. A mighty release came up on him, fast and hot as lightning, hovering just on the edge of his control. He breathed in harshly, smelled rosemary and moved his hips against her palm.

In an answer to his prayers, her fingers gripped him through the flannel and that was all it took. Ecstasy spilled out of him in surges that racked his body. Carried away, soaring high, shattered and made whole in the same instant, he uttered three words in a voice that cracked from the burden of his long-kept secret.

“I love you….”

The relief of finally speaking the truth ushered in the peace that came as he drifted back into his body.

And it was okay. Here, in his dream, it was all right to let his feelings out. There was no terrible dishonor, no sense of disloyalty. Just a simple truth that had burned him to his soul from the moment he had first seen her.

Darkness reached up and embraced him, pulling him under.

For the first time since the storm the nightmares didn’t come.

Cass headed to her room on legs that felt really unreliable. Shutting her door, she sagged back against the panels.

She wasn’t sure what shocked her most. What had just happened. Or what Alex had said.

She put her face in her hands. With shocking clarity, she could still hear him crying out. Could picture his body going rigid and then trembling from shock waves until he fell still.

She’d never actually watched a man…well, do that. At least not in that way. Not with that kind of sensual abandon.

She certainly hadn’t meant for things to go that far. From the moment he’d slipped her hand under his shirt, she’d told herself to pull back. But the more she felt of him, the more she heard him speak, the more she watched his body move on that bed, the less able she’d been to turn away. His response to her had been unbelievable, as if he’d waited for years just for her touch. As if he were desperate for the smallest crumbs of her attention.