Page 31 of A Naked Beauty

I’m jostled awake. Mick twistsviciously in his sleep. Instinct warns me not to touch him. My heart tripping in my chest, I throw off the covers and lower onto the floor, kneeling beside the bed. “Mick.”

He thrashes, his legs kicking at the sheets, his pleas guttural, desperate. “Stop! Please. Pleeze stop.” Then he cries, hopeless, despairing cries that sound like an animal caught in a trap. I can’t bear it.

“Mick! Wake up!”

His eyes fly open. Through the moonlit-dappled room I see the harsh, angry glint in them. Feel the raging violence arc into me.

“It’s okay,” I say softly. “You were having a bad dream.”

His body depresses into the mattress, then goes still. A film of perspiration covers his skin. “Dee?” he croaks.

“Yes. It’s me. I’m here.”

“You’re on the ground.” His breaths sough. “Did I do that?”

“Of course not. I moved off the bed.”

“Because you were afraid of me?”

“Not of you…of your nightmare.”

“Christ…” He drags a hand up over his face and through his hair.

Painfully aware of the secrets from his childhood, I can well imagine what horrors had stolen into his dreams. I lean over and touch his shoulder. The muscle trembles like an earthquake beneath a hard layer of rock.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

No answer. Just broken breaths.

I brush the lock of hair off his damp forehead. He squeezes his eyes closed as if he’s trying to fight off those cleaving demons and shove them back into the deep, black hole they’d come from.

“I’ll get you some water.”

“No.” His hand shoots out to grab my wrist, then quickly releases it as if he doesn’t trust himself to touch me. “Come back to bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t go.” I wrap my arms around him when he sits up and hug him. He’s still shaking. For all the times that Mick has loved me through my grief and pain, I know how good it feels to be held and wanted; to lose yourself in pleasure. With my mouth at his neck, tasting the salt on his skin, I whisper: “Stay. I want you here with me. I wantyou.”

“Dee.” His voice is anguished, the memory of the nightmare still holding him captive.

But I won’t let it. I won’t let the past, with its sharp, jagged claws, tear us apart.

Whipping off my shirt, I straddle his hips and push him onto his back, covering his body with mine.

“Make love with me, Mick,” I urge in a breathless whisper, rubbing my sex over his cock that hardens with pleasing quickness.

“Dee.” He groans deep in his chest before rolling me under him. Our gazes hold and I see a glimmer of the man I love come back into his eyes.

Tears of relief trickle down my temples.

“Don’t cry, baby. Please.”

“I’m okay,” I assure him, running my palms down his back. “Just be with me.”

His mouth lowers to the dampness of my cheeks, then to my lips for the most heartrending kiss. In contrast to the violence of his dream, his touch is gentle, his passion subdued.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, kneeing my legs open and easing every thick inch into me.

It’s hot and smooth, and so exquisite that my soul blooms with a million velvet petals. “I love you,” I gasp against his mouth.

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