Dream Nights With the CEO (13 page)

“I’m back to myself,” she said as she looked down. Her body was her own again. But it was still covered in chains. “I don’t know if I can move.”

“Work with me, Megan. One hard pull.”

She swallowed and nodded. “On the count of three?”

“Sure.” Then he waited a bit before he smiled. Dropping his forehead to hers, he whispered the words. “We’ll do it together. One. Two. Three.”

She stood up, pushed with her feet, and slammed upwards with her hands. And she found herself in his arms while his mouth slanted across hers.

She didn’t understand how it happened. Physics said that she should have busted his nose as she surged up. But she didn’t. They didn’t. One second she was straining to stand and the next she was wrapped in his arms and their mouths were fused together.

She didn’t even think to object. This was a dream, and they were finally doing what she’d wanted in the first place. A kiss. A hug. A…

“Take me outside, Wyatt,” she whispered into his mouth.

He didn’t even need prompting. He swooped her into his huge arms and carried her around boulders and over oozing marshmallow bits. There were even a few jagged nuts thrust outward in razor sharp bits. Go figure, apparently the walls of her cave had been constructed of hardened ice cream.

“Next time I’ll remember not to eat Rocky Road.”

“What?”

She laughed. “Nothing. Just— Ooh! Pretty!”

They were outside in a beautiful sunlit field. Green grass, a cherry orchard to her left and beyond it, mountains. To her right was an expanse of waving sunflowers. It was gorgeous. And in the center was a picnic laid out for two.

“Did you create this?” she asked.

He shrugged as he set her on her feet. “I don’t understand any of it. Except you, of course.”

She arched a brow. “You think you understand me?”

“Not even remotely! I understand what I want to do with you.” Then he leaned down and kissed her. Soft, slow, it made her knees melt. But even as her body pressed itself tightly to his, she worked her hand up to his mouth and stopped their kiss. She didn’t want to, but she was becoming more alert—more conscious—the longer she was outside of that cave.

“This is a dream, right?” she asked.

He frowned for a moment and his eyes grew vague. Then he slowly nodded. His hold on her loosened and she pulled back a bit. Reluctantly.

“I don’t want to do this in a dream, Wyatt. We should wake up.”

He blinked. “Wake up?”

“If we’re going to make love, why not do it for real?”

He took a deep breath, his chest expanding into an impossible size. Highly distracting. And when he bent his head to nuzzle her neck, she shivered and was nearly lost.

“It’s a dream, Wyatt.”

“I know,” he said against her ear. “But do we have to stop?”

“No. Yes. Let’s do it awake.”

He sighed, his breath feathering across her skin and somehow heating her spine all the way down to her toes.

“I don’t know where I am,” he said, his hands starting to rove over her back and down to cup her bottom. His pelvis was moving, thrusting and rubbing against her delightfully.

“You’re in your man cave, aren’t you?”

It took a moment for her words to sink in, but then he paused. “Man cave?”

“Your studio apartment. You’re there, aren’t you?”

“How do you know about that?”

She chuckled. “I double-check your receipts, remember? You’ve had one as long as I’ve known you. It’s a block away from your gym.”

He shook his head, but in here, the landscape darkened in reaction to his lie. “It’s nothing,” he murmured.

She reached up and kissed his lips. “This is me, Wyatt. I know about your man cave. So let’s wake up and I’ll come over.”

“No, let’s just stay here.”

She chuckled. “Not a chance. I’ve been wanting to see what’s in there for years.”

“But—”

Too late. She’d already left.

A moment later she was sitting up in bed, scrubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Then she grabbed her phone and texted Wyatt.

I’ll be there in fifteen.

Chapter Twelve

Wyatt was startled awake in a full panic. The memory of the dream was bright and…and hard in all the most uncomfortable ways. But the tendrils of the sunlit field were slipping away fast. Another moment later, and he was halfway to convincing himself that it hadn’t been real.

Then Megan’s text came through. She’d be there in fifteen minutes.

Oh hell. Rubbing his eyes, he looked around his miniscule studio apartment. It was a very simple place: a couch, a beanbag chair, a lamp, and a heater. Plus wall-to-wall boxes of comic books.

It was meant for his escape from reality. For ninety percent of his time, he lived at his most recent B&B. Office and bed were all that he needed, and he usually set up on site so he could supervise the repairs. This place had been the one location he’d come to whenever he needed to escape everything and just read his comics in peace.

And it was absolutely not designed for a woman to visit. He glanced at the floor. Hell, how many empty pizza boxes were stacked there?

He scrambled to his feet, adjusted his sweats, and started cleaning as fast as he could. It was cold outside of his unit, but that could only help his particular pain at the moment. Fifteen minutes later—on the dot—Megan caught him frantically slamming the couch cushions against the hallway wall in an effort to dislodge the dust and pizza crumbs from the old things.

He caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. She was leaning, her arms folded over her tie-dyed crop top while a look of wicked amusement danced on her face. He immediately tossed the cushions back inside and then quickly finger combed his hair.

“Um, how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to see you beat the life out of those cushions.” She grinned. “Don’t stop on my account. But take off your shirt first. I’m sure the view is—”

“God Megan, this isn’t a place for women.”

“—spectacular.” She paused, then frowned as she slowly straightened off the wall. “Am I invading your space?”

“No! Well, yes, but that’s not it. I mean…” He sighed. She was here anyway. “Just look. You’ll see what I mean.”

She stepped closer, her expression wary. Then she stood at the open doorway and just stared. He sighed, his guts twisting as the seconds ticked on.

“Huh,” she finally said. “I didn’t know beanbag chairs came in leather.”

“What? Oh, yeah. Gift from my sister.” Then he stared at her, his body twisting as he tried to understand her body language. He read nothing but clear interest. “Look, I know this isn’t what you’re used to, but like I said, I never meant for anyone to see it.”

She stepped slowly inside, her gaze going to the floor-to-ceiling boxes of comics. Moving to the nearest wall, she traced his handwriting on one of the labels. “Look at you. This is the most organized I’ve ever seen…anything of yours.”

He blinked. “They’re comics. Some of them quite valuable. Of course they’re organized.” He carefully stepped in front of the chaotic pile of issues he’d read in the last month. He was a little behind on his cataloguing, but he’d been out of town. “Megan—”

“So who’s your favorite?”

He took a moment to replace the cushions on the couch while his mind scrambled to catch up. But he was completely thrown by her lack of judgment. “They’re all my favorite. At one time or another.”

She nodded as if that made sense. “But why? Talk to me, Wyatt. Tell me about them.” She made a sweeping gesture with her arm to indicate the three full walls.

“But…” Lord, he couldn’t think. She was standing there in jeans and that damned tie-dyed crop top. It was completely blowing his mind. “How long did it take to find that shirt?” he asked by way of distracting himself.

“This old thing?” She looked down and tugged on the bottom edge of the shirt. Which did very little to cover her belly and dropped the neckline low enough for him to get a flash of cleavage. “About a minute. I suppose you organize comics, I keep good track of my clothes.” She flashed him a wickedly coy look. “Does it still fit me?”

“Better than before,” he said, not daring to tell her it was tighter on her. Which, in his book, was a very good thing. She’d been too thin in college.

He stepped forward, meaning to wrap his arms around her, but she held him off. “Come on. Tell me about this.”

He paused a moment. Was she nervous? He certainly was, though he thought he was doing an admirable job of hiding it. Maybe she wanted to talk as a way to break the ice. If so, then he was fine with it, even if one part of his anatomy wasn’t. “They’re my comics. I’ve been collecting since I was a kid, hiding them from my mother under my socks.”

“You had to hide them?”

He shrugged. “Mom thought they were going to rot my brain.”

She snorted. “Well, I guess she was wrong on that score.”

He smiled. “Guess so.” Then he peered at her. “You really want to know?”

“Of course I do.” She touched his arm and turned him so that they took in the whole space. “Do you see any pictures of your family here?”

He frowned. “No. Those are back in my office.”

“Yeah. Shoved into a corner behind the accounting books.” Then she stepped toward his oldest collection. “I don’t see any sports memorabilia, and I keep your schedule so I’d know if you were hanging out with old school friends. There isn’t even a TV in here.” She turned back to him. “Wyatt, these are your friends here. This is how you spent your childhood.”

“Not completely. There was school and I had friends. Played Mario Bros. like a champ.”

“My, you are old,” she drawled.

“I’m only three years older than you,” he practically growled. “And the Brothers were around a long time.”

“Yes, they were. But again, that’s a single player game.”

“I had friends! I spent an entire summer flying model planes with Tommy Wilson.”

She nodded. “And where is he now?”

Wyatt sighed. “Moved to Texas, married, and now has a set of twins.”

She touched his face, and he closed his eyes to better feel the warmth of her hand, the smoothness of her skin, and the sweet scent of her. “How lonely were you as a kid?” she asked.

He swallowed. It was on the tip of his tongue to play the dramatic note.
Oh terribly isolated, horribly alone. Come make it better.
But this was Megan; he couldn’t lie to her. And he wasn’t much of a playboy anyway. So he told her the bald truth.

“I liked it that way. I’m not much of people person, you know.”

“I know. So talk to me about them.” Again she brought him to the nearest box. “Talk now or I’m going to start spilling these onto the floor.”

“Okay, okay!” he cried in mock horror. “No reason to get messy. What do you want to know?”

“Start with who you loved first.”

“Um, I started collecting when I was twelve. I loved anything that had women with a big chest.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe it.”

He pulled back. “What? No really, I did.”

“Oh, I’m sure that was a factor, but you’re the smartest guy I know. I doubt you were mesmerized by boobs alone.”

“Legs are nice, too.” Then just for emphasis he ran his hand down her thigh. “I especially love yours. They’re strong and flexible and—”

“And you’re not going to distract me.”

“I’m not?” He squeezed and leaned in to nuzzle her.

She groaned but stepped away. “I’m not. Talk. Then nuzzle.”

He heaved a very dramatic sigh, then started talking. She was right about his comic book tastes. He needed plot and character too, not just beautiful women. So he talked about his earliest superhero favorites. He gave her a brief summary—which took about ten minutes—then he stopped. In truth, he’d been warming to the topic, so he knew from experience it was about time to pull the plug on his mouth.

But the minute he clicked his teeth shut, she asked him a question. That got him going again for another five, and then…another question.

“Are you really interested in all this?” he asked.

“I really am. And I’d like to read some of them, if you don’t mind. I never got into comics much as a kid, but I love the movies.”

Which started them off on another topic. She really was interested. And he hadn’t realized how wonderful it was to share.

An hour later, she stifled her first yawn.

“Oh hell, Megan. I’m sorry.”

“No! I’m interested. I really am.” She flashed him a mischievous look. “It’s just that it’s late, and my boss is a real hard-ass. He’s going to expect a text at seven a.m. and I’m—”

“Funny,” he said with a frown. “I thought you said he gave you the day off tomorrow.”

She blinked, taking much too long to follow his train of thoughts. And wasn’t that a measure of how really tired she was? “Um…he did?”

“Yup. I’m sure of it.” He stood up. “Come on. This couch folds out into a bed.”

She straightened off the floor, stretching her back and sides as she stood up. He watched her, his body growing harder. He doubted he’d ever get tired of watching her do that. She was a lovely woman, of course, but the vitality in her just made him worship her. He spent so much of his time cooped up—in an office, in the gym making sure he didn’t have a coronary like his father, or here reading comics—it made him appreciate the people who kept themselves toned despite killer work schedules.“ You’re staring,” she said.

“You’re beautiful.”

She smiled, her eyes taking on a hungry look. “Why don’t you open the couch with your shirt off? I want to stare, too.”

“Megan—”

“Shut up. You’re a stud muffin, and you know it. Broad. Strong. I just get off on guys built like a chiseled brick.”

“Can I take you to bed now?” he asked.

“Only after you
open
the bed.”

“Deal.”

He stripped away the cushions in two seconds flat. She laughed.

“All that time to bang them out, and you’re just throwing them on the dirty floor?”

“I’ll buy a new couch,” he said as he grabbed hold of the handle to the bed frame and pulled. “Oooh,” she drawled behind him. “Pretty muscles.”

He straightened the bed and mattress, then grabbed a blanket but he winced at the dirt on it.

“Let me shake this,” he said.

“You and shaking things. I like it.”

He shrugged. “My mother made me beat cushions regularly. She was rather fanatical about dust.” He glanced back at her. “She would be appalled by this place. Are you sure you don’t mind it?”

She smiled. “I grew up with two brothers and a mother who would never win a housekeeping award. So relax.” She climbed up onto the bed, her breasts bobbing enticingly. “It’s special because I’m with you.”

He shook his head, awed. “My mother was the exact opposite,” he said quietly. “Everything had to be perfect.”

“So you hid in your comics?”

“I hid in my room, under the bed, with my comics.”

“Under the bed? Seriously?”

“Well, thanks to my mother, everything under there was spotless.”

She chuckled. “I’m not looking under this bed.”

“Good idea. Now can I take off your jeans?”

She grinned and widened her arms. “You can try. Both my brothers wrestled, so I know a few tricks.”

He didn’t think it was possible, but his dick stiffened even more. “I love a challenge,” he said.

Then he climbed onto the bed.