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.