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“Do you believe in love?” Grant asks me, except because it’s a dream, his words come out like he’s talking through water, muffled and warbling.
I go to say no, but I can’t speak. “No,” I try to say, but all that comes out is hoarse air. “No,” I try to say again but this time I actually say, “Yes.”
That’s not true. I don’t believe in love.
Do I?
Suddenly, all the equipment is gone. The table is bare. It’s just Grant and me looking at each other, our hands pressed to the tabletop, waiting for someone to make the first move.
He reaches under the table and flips it as if it takes no strength at all. As the table falls, it turns into a bed. And in the blink of an eye, I’m sitting on the edge of it.
I look up and Grant is standing before me, but my vision is blurred like I’ve gone cross-eyed.
“Grant?”
He steps closer and closer. As he comes more into focus, I notice that he’s naked. From top to bottom. Beautiful, tan and toned body with swirls of hair across his chest. His hands are balled into fists. And before my eyes can reach his package, he kneels at the edge of the bed and touches my thighs.
I’m naked. I don’t remember getting naked, but I am.
And I’m not afraid.
His hands knead my thighs as his eyes travel up my body. A look of desperation and pain in his blue eyes. His brow is furrowed. He’s…aching.
I reach out and touch my hands to his forehead, softening out the wrinkles. Grant closes his eyes and his mouth falls open in relief. Just my touch has relieved some of this pain. This mental turmoil.
I’ve been feeling it too. The pressure of doing something so wrong. Of wanting to do it again.
“We shouldn’t,” he whispers.
“I know,” I say, but while my mind knows we can’t, my body will not listen. His skin is as smooth as butter.
“Not again.”
We’ve already done it once. That can be considered a mistake. Twice would be a coincidence. Three times a pattern.
But does any of that count in dreams?
No. This is where I get to live out my fantasy instead of continuing to ruin my reality.
“But I have to,” I whisper and lean down to kiss him.
Grant accepts my lips without any hesitation. He was resisting for show, not because he really wanted to.
Plus, this is my dream. He’ll do what I want him to do.
I wrap my hands around his head, raking my fingers through his dark curls. So soft. Everything about him is so soft. Even though in life he is hard. The jaw, the chest, the brittle texture of the gray hairs at his temples.
Here, he is the softest thing I have ever touched.
Though this is my dream and I’m in control, my brain can still surprise me. Grant pulls on my thighs and forces me onto my back. “I need to taste you.”
“Oh god…” I moan, wriggling my hips up toward his needful mouth.
Grant trails kisses up the inside of my thigh. I can feel his hot breath on my center, wet with want. “I smell you wherever I go.”
I bend my head.
“Wherever you go, I’ll find you.”
