Hot Encounters
I’m participating in a blog hop from the Book boyfriends Cafe. The prompt this week is to post an excerpt of a hot encounter between your characters, and there are certainly a few of those in the Dream Series. Here’s one from book five of the series, WAKING DREAM:
I grab my cellphone and throw my coat on. I go out into the cold – it’s really frigid, probably in the single digits. I take a few steps and I start to lose my nerve for this – I was going to call Brian, but there’s no way I can stand out here and talk to him for more than a minute or two.
But I realize how stupid I’m being – there’s a much better alternative. The rental van is parked just over there – not even twenty feet away. And it’s unlocked, I don’t even need to go back into the chalet for the keys. So I open the driver’s side door and shut myself in. Just in case, I lock the doors as well, then I dial Brian’s cell phone.
He picks up on the first ring, and, sure enough I can hear that he’s at work. Before he even greets me, I hear him shushing someone on his end. “Sara! I figured you’d call right about this time.”
“I miss you,” I nearly shout into the phone. I feel my heart speeding up. Just hearing his voice, warmth is spreading through my body. I can almost feel his arms around me, his hands all over me. “Can – can you go outside? Did you drive? Can you go out to the car?”
“I’m going now,” he says.
“Stay on the line! I want to hear you, don’t go, OK?” He doesn’t. He isn’t saying anything as he makes his way through the labyrinthine corridors of the Pentagon, but I hear him breathing and that’s good enough. I can picture him; I’ve been to his office a few times and I just about remember the route from there out to the parking lot. I’m following him along in my mind; he should just about be outside now – there, I can hear the wind.
“At least I could park close in today,” he says, and sure enough it’s not even thirty seconds before I hear the door of our ancient Volvo open and then slam shut. “OK, I’m here.”
“Good,” I answer. “I – I wanted,” no, wanted isn’t nearly a strong enough word. “I needed to thank you. I opened my gift. It was perfect.” He doesn’t bother to say “that little thing?” or “it was nothing” – he knows it was perfect. Just like he’s perfect. He doesn’t say anything at all, but I feel myself melting, as though he’s here next to me, as though he’s caressing me in the way only he can.
I do have a very special gift for him. I didn’t bring it with me; I was saving it so he’d have one final thing to open once we got back from the trip. And I’m selfish enough that I want to watch him open it. The rest of his gifts from me are in the chalet; those will have to wait, too.
“I’m sorry there’s nothing for you to open,” I say. “But – I…” my face is flushed, and every inch of my skin feels hypersensitive. “I want – let me give you something to look forward to, OK? There’s nobody around you, right? You’ve got the doors locked?” I hear a click over the line as he locks them. “Good. I – I want you to pay attention. I want you to hear every word, OK?”
I’m talking just above a whisper. “When we get home, Brian – the moment we’re alone. I mean this. The very first second we’re alone. You still remember the Christmas card. How I want to be your best gift. I still do, and I always will.”
“I know,” he breathes.
“I want to be sure you do. I want you to know exactly what I mean by that.” Now I am whispering, and I know that my face is redder than it’s ever been in my entire life. But that doesn’t matter. I keep whispering. I tell my beautiful, perfect husband, in explicit detail, precisely what I intend to do to him, and with him. As I go on, I hear him gasping, and I feel myself going over the edge. But I have more to say. I tell him what I expect him to do to me, and with me.
by 