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THEY WERE IN HIS BED, the feather comforter pulled up around them and Wren nestled against his chest, when she remembered the dream. “I wonder... I wonder if I'll have another one,” she said, too warm and secure at the moment to feel any real apprehension over it. “Or if being with you will keep the dreams at bay.”
He stroked her hair. “Nothing seemed to stop that one at the club,” he said softly, sounding almost reluctant to bring it up.
“True...” She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “But that was before you... before we...” She couldn’t come up with the right words for it.
Derek did. “Before I was inside you?”
“Yes.”
“You think it really will make a difference?”
“It feels like it, anyway.” She hugged him hard around the ribs. “I want... I want to do it before we go back to the club. We should, right? Go back on Sunday to look around more?”
He pressed a kiss against her hair. “Seems like it. And you’d be helping me with my other case by coming with me, too.”
“And I should practice.” She watched a patch of light move across the ceiling as a car went by outside. Such a quiet neighborhood. “I want to figure out if I can really read other people when we’re... while we’re... you know. Or if it’s only you.”
“It seems like...”
“I know what it seems like. But we ought to test it.” Wren nuzzled against him, trying to work up the nerve to tell him her idea.
“How?”
“I think you should come to my house tomorrow night. And we should test it on Lawrence.” There, she’d said it, but she was blushing.
Derek was silent, and her desire was sated and quiet; she could not hear what he was thinking at all.
“He knows; I already told him,” Wren went on. “About the mind-reading. I figure, just a little test, like... he could be reading a book, and I'll see if I can tell what book. We'll tell him when it’s going to happen so he can, um, not think about anything he might not want me to know. Right?”
Derek chuckled. “That might guarantee he thinks about it. But, you’re right. If he'll go along with it, it’s the best way to test it. It does mean... telling him we’re having sex, though.”
“I know.” Wren raised her head to look at him. “Normally that'd flip me out. But compared to the thought that this is working up to you... us... at the club... well...”
He pulled her back down, fingers kneading the back of her neck. “Point taken. Tomorrow night, then, your house, if Lawrence agrees, you'll test your abilities, and we'll...”
Wren raised her head again. “We'll what?”
“We'll get one step closer to what you want. My cock. In you.” His eyes were dark in the amber glow from the street lights. “Can you say it, Wren?”
She reached down to find the bulge in his pajama bottoms. It was soft, but the bulk of it was still impressive in her palm. “Your cock,” she whispered, a thrill worming through her core. “In me.” And she leaned toward him and pressed her mouth to his. “By Friday.”
He let out a breathy laugh. “I'll put it in my Day Planner.” She nestled back down in the crook of his arm and he asked, "So you'll stay tonight?”
She nodded. “I'll go by my place in the morning for clothes before work. Other than the Monday morning meeting, they couldn’t care less about what time I get there.”
He hummed happily, the sound reverberating in his chest and in Wren’s ear where she was pressed against him.
* * *
SHE DREAMED. SHE DREAMED that she was the princess of a fairy kingdom, and Derek was the prince from a neighboring kingdom. The king was upset, though, that Derek had tried to have sex with her, and he was captured and brought into the court. He was strapped down, tied naked to a table in front of the king's throne, all the courtiers looking on. Wren was sitting on a small throne of her own, but she could not move, could not speak, as the king ordered his mage to step forth and test the prince. The mage was Lawrence, and he waved a magic wand that made Derek’s cock stand up tall, and then it began to glow. Just the first two inches glowed a bright blue, and the brighter it glowed, the harder Wren’s own clit throbbed. Lawrence was explaining, in a very high class British accent, that these two inches were the two inches that had made it inside the princess.
The king seemed to ponder this, then decreed that the offending two inches should be removed, and the prince’s life spared. The king called for his sword. and while waiting for a knight to bring it, with much trepidation, Wren was trying to get Lawrence’s attention to free her from the spell that held her in the throne when she woke up.
She woke to find her hand on Derek’s cock, massaging it. He was fully hard, but seemed to be asleep. It was still dark; she couldn’t see over him to the clock. She kept her hand where it was, stroking him, as she shifted onto her stomach and slipped her other hand under her and into her panties.
She was sopping wet already, and a few thrusts of her hips had her slick fingers raking over her clit on each push. She could not hold back a moan, and Derek answered with a groan of his own.
He pressed against her then, and she had to let go as his cock rubbed insistently against her hip. Before she realized what was happening, he had shifted on top of her, his cock rubbing against her tailbone, pre-come slicking the skin.
She thrust up against him, moving her hips to her own rhythm, so close to coming already. His own soon matched her, his weight and heat pressing her deliciously into the bed.
And what was in his mind? What was he dreaming? She felt herself opening up to let his thoughts in. Did he have elaborate dreams of kings and castles?
But what she found in his mind was just the thought of rutting, dreaming of exactly this. He was not awake.
That didn’t make it any less hot for Wren. She imagined that instead of pressing against her, he was inside her, the tip of his cock parting her folds, the bulk of him molding her insides to fit him, each thrust going deeper and deeper...
She came silently, biting the pillow, shuddering under him, wondering if he came in his dream if he would come in real life, or if there was no difference, since his dreaming mind was wholly taken with the sensory input? Her fingers worked again, pinching her clit between them, a second orgasm cresting over her first, and she imagined it, the explosive spasm of him inside her, coming inside her...
She pushed into his dream and then cried out in surprise when instantly the cock against her back began to spurt. That woke him, a sudden flicker of awareness...
Wren!
It’s all right. We’re just dreaming. Well, we've both come, but it’s a dream.
God, some dream...
I know. I liked it, though.
Mm. Me, too.
And then sleep was dragging them both down again. Wren smiled. She could be a dream-lover, too, it seemed. And her dreams later that night were of Derek and only Derek.
* * *
SHE ARRIVED AT WORK slightly later than usual the next morning. For half a second she looked around for the vase before she remembered she’d put it in the supply closet. There was no flower, no note from Steve, nothing to say he was upset about her standing him up. She wondered if she should have called with some excuse for why she hadn’t shown up, but by now it was too late for that. Maybe she should at least apologize.
Why not tell him the truth? Or part of it, anyway? I really wanted to meet you, but when I got there I just couldn’t bring myself to go in. He was shy, too. He’d assume that was why.
He didn’t call. She didn’t feel stalked when she went out to grab lunch. And by mid-afternoon she had forgotten him, thinking instead about Derek and wondering what exactly they were going to do tonight.
She knocked on Lawrence’s door with a pizza at a little before six o'clock.
“Oh my God, is that sausage I smell?” he said. “You’re a lifesaver. I skipped lunch and I’m starving.”
They settled at Lawrence’s dining table. His place had the same layout as Wren’s, but he had divided his living room into the sitting area around the TV and the dining area with a nice table, matching chairs, and a sideboard. That was where Wren had her desk, a bookshelf, and the treadmill.
“Can I ask you a favor?” she asked, when they were each well into their second slice. “You can say no.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whenever you say I can say no, I always feel like then I can’t.”
“Well, that’s hardly my fault,” she teased. “It’s about tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Derek’s coming over and I want to do a bit of an experiment.” She slapped him on the back of the hand when he leered. “That’s not the kind of experimentation I mean! Derek’s straight.”
“Are you sure? He could be bi. Have you asked?”
“No, I haven’t asked!”
“Then are you sure? He dresses pretty nicely for a straight guy.”
“Lawrence!”
“Okay, okay, what’s the favor?” He bit into his pizza with a Cheshire-Cat grin.
She took a breath, hoping to explain it calmly and with a minimum of embarrassment. “I want to try reading your mind.”
“Right now?”
“No. No, later. Since I have to be, you know, for it to work.” She was blushing but not so badly that she wanted to hide her face. She pressed on before he could say anything more. “But I don’t want to pry, if it does work, so I thought, you could be reading a book.”
“I did just buy that new David Baldacci...”
“No! Don’t tell me what it is!” She made an exasperated sound. “The whole point is to see if I can tell what book you’re reading.”
“Ahh. Okay.” Lawrence took a swig of Coke straight from the can. “And if I’m reading a book, presumably I won’t be thinking about my own deep, dark secrets?”
“Yes.” She wiped her hands on a napkin. “Does that mean you'll do it?”
“Sure. How will I know when to start reading, and when to stop?”
“Well, he’s supposed to be here at eight,” Wren said, checking her watch. It was barely 6:15 and she was tempted to call Derek and tell him to just come as quickly as he could.
Lawrence appraised her. “So you'll be doing the nasty by, what, 8:15?”
Wren blushed deeply this time. “Um, probably.”
“The 'why-do-we-ever-leave-the-bed-at-all' stage is one of the best parts about a new boyfriend,” he said sagely. “It’s all right, Wren. I'll start reading when I hear him go up the stairs. I'll read until around nine unless I hear differently from you.”
* * *
WREN EXCUSED HERSELF soon after that, not wanting to smell like sausage pizza when Derek arrived. She took a quick shower, then dug out a few things from cabinet underneath the sink.
There they were, a box of tea lights, each little white candle in its little aluminum cup. Digging a little deeper she found the thing Abby had given her for Christmas three years ago, a little clay pot and stand, and a bottle of scented oil. A tea light went into the base and would heat the oil and scent the air. The oil was supposed to be gardenia-scented. She wasn’t sure if it really smelled like any actual flower, but it was pleasant.
She set it on a plate on her dresser, arranging a half dozen of the tea lights around it and lighting them. Very pleased with the effect, she turned off the overhead light and put on the reading light by the bed.
That reminded her of something else. She pulled open the side drawer and rummaged around. Yes. She pulled out a small cardboard box and looked in it. Yes, two condoms. It was a three pack that a previous date had left here, after having used only one of them. They were two years old, but according to the dates on the foil, they should still be okay to use.
She left the two square packages conspicuously on the side table. Just in case.
With the room prepared, that left Wren wondering what she should wear. It seemed silly to get dressed just to get undressed again, but at the same time she couldn’t quite imagine being so brazen as to lie in bed, naked, waiting for him.
She blinked as she realized that was exactly what she had just imagined. The sheets would be cool against her bare skin as she slid in-between them... She felt a surge of desire throb low in her abdomen.
But he wasn’t going to be here for another half hour, and she’d have to get up and answer the door when he arrived, anyway. She pulled on a bathrobe as a compromise, the terrycloth rubbing against her nipples and ass. She sat down with a book of her own to wait.
It wasn’t long, it seemed, before she heard his SUV pulling into the parking space behind the condo, and before she knew it she had run all the way down three flights of stairs to meet him at the door.
He pulled her into a hug, there on the threshold, and she felt the chilly autumn air creep up the open bottom of the robe. A moment later his hand moved in a circle over her bottom, as if polishing it with the soft terry, his eyes searching hers wordlessly. Questioning but approving of her lack of attire.
Upstairs he had just set down his overnight bag, and she had only just shut the door and latched it, when she felt his hands on her waist from behind, undoing the belt of the robe. “The bedroom...” she said, but fell silent as he kissed the back of her bare neck, then suckled hungrily at the spot under her ear that always made her melt. His hands parted the robe, let it fall to the floor between their feet, his fingers skimming her already hard nipples.
“I talked... to Lawrence,” she said, breathless but determined.
“Good.” It came out little more than a growl. “Wren.”
“The bedroom,” she said again, whispering it this time.
“Yes.” He picked her up and carried her.
The gentle scent of the oil was heady now that it had been heating for a while, exotic and intoxicating, but no moreso than the taste of him, the scent of his breath, as he lay her down on the bed and kissed her, finally.
She lost track of time during the kiss, lost track of their hands, losing herself completely in it. When he spoke, he was hoarse as if he hadn’t spoken for hours, though it couldn’t have been that long. “You like my tongue,” he said, not a question, but a statement.
“Very much.”
“Let’s start there,” he breathed, kissing her one last time, and then leaving a trail of kisses down her torso.
As with the time before, he began slowly, lapping with long, soft strokes, until the hard bud of her clit was revealed, then narrowing his attention to it with quicker flicks of his tongue tip. But just as her arousal was reaching a peak, he spread her lips with both hands and stretched his tongue into her.
She gasped. So that was what he meant by starting there. She had never felt anything like it, so muscular but flexible, pressing into her and awakening nerve endings all around her opening. It felt so good. She tried to spread her legs wider, to let him go deeper, and his chin pressed hard against her as he tried to get as much of his tongue going in and out of her as possible.
I can’t believe I never thought of this before.
His surprise was evident. You haven’t?
It just didn’t occur to me that you could... fuck with your tongue. Or that anyone would fuck ME with their tongue. Just... regular head seemed like too much to hope for most of the time.
She could feel his disbelief and then, as the belief sank in, a kind of disappointment in his fellow man, and then he brought his attention back to her clit.
Oh God, she was close.
Of course you are. I can feel it. He chuckled and backed off, lifting his head and wiping his chin before planting a soft kiss on her mons. So what’s Lawrence reading?
“Um...” She closed her eyes, feeling for Lawrence, for something...
Yes. There he was. Wren burst out laughing and Derek joined her. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked.
“I told him not to read the David Baldacci book he’s in the middle of,” Wren said. “Because I already knew that. But I had no idea he liked Harry Potter.”
“Everyone likes Harry Potter,” Derek said seriously. Now, let’s see about getting you off.
No, wait! You’re not even undressed yet.
Is there something wrong with that?
Well, no. But yes. I want to feel your skin, Derek. I want to be making love, not just... experimenting. We don’t have to be "doing it" to both be part of it, do we?
She imagined them in a sixty-nine and felt his cock jump in her mind.
All right. It’s a good idea, but I want to add something to it. I want you to come with something in you, and my finger will be awkward at that angle.
He got off the bed, shedding his clothes as he made his way to his overnight bag. She giggled as he attempted to hide the thing he took out of it, as if to surprise her, but she could see it perfectly well in his thoughts.
Chagrined, he brought it to the bed, kicking off his socks as he went. He placed it in her hand. It was a small, soft, rubbery thing, shaped like a dolphin leaping out of the water, the "water" being the flared base of it. The material felt silky, almost warm instead of cold the way plastic would feel, and was lavender in the candlelight. It wasn’t even half the size of him, but it was larger than one of his fingers.
Come here, he urged her gently, lying back on the bed and guiding her into position. She was on all fours above him, brushing his erection with her lips. She felt him sit up partway and press his mouth to her opening again, tongue snaking out as if to insure the way was still slick.
Here you are, came his thought as he spread her lips carefully with one hand and then slid the toy inside her.
Ohhhhh....
She squeezed it, feeling it with her muscles, as it warmed up to her temperature. And then his tongue found her clit again and she cried out softly.
She tried to concentrate on his cock for a while, lapping it and sucking it, but this position wasn’t as good for that as she’d imagined it would be. Their heights didn’t quite match up. She kept trying, but she didn’t think she’d make him come this way, while he was pushing her inexorably toward orgasm. As she grew close, she heard his thought, leave it, and she lifted her mouth free to cry out while he brought her off, his tongue working like a demon's until she spasmed, and then one hand drawing the dolphin halfway out and pressing it back in slowly, over and over.
I want you, I want you, why can’t I have you yet?
He hushed her. “No rushing. It would kill me to hurt you, Wren. Don’t... push, okay?”
“Okay...” And she felt as if some thought in his head moved out from under her, like some leviathan in the deep water she couldn’t see into. “Your turn to come, though.”
“Oh, no argument there,” he said.
“Then hush, and lie still.” She crawled off him, and settled between his legs. Yes. He fit much better into her mouth this direction. She lapped up a salty gem of pre-come and slid the whole head of his cock into her mouth.
“God...” Her inexperience is completely made up for by the fact that she can read my arousal.
I heard that!
He groaned as she knew exactly where to press her fingers behind his balls, exactly how fast to move her mouth and how hard to suck to bring him off, and wasted no time in doing so.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING SHE woke to find the little dolphin standing on the side table next to the two condoms, and a note from Derek.
Sorry I had to rush off.
Had to meet a client.
I'll be back tonight.
Don’t forget to ask Lawrence what he was reading.
-D
Wren yawned. She’d slept through his phone ringing, then? She had only a vague sense that she had been dreaming; she didn’t remember anything.
The day at work passed in a blur. There were no phone calls from Steve, no mysterious flower deliveries, and a very badly scanned manuscript to deal with, so she was actually surprised to find it past five o'clock when she looked up to see what time it was.
She assumed she’d see Derek at eight again, and she still had half a pizza left. She called Lawrence from her car on the way home and he insisted she come over again, and he’d make a salad so they weren’t eating just pizza.
Lawrence’s idea of a salad included goat cheese and walnuts and dried cranberries in addition to the vegetables and Wren found herself only eating one piece of pizza after the immense bowl he put in front of her. “So,” she finally asked, when he was starting on his second piece, "was it Harry Potter?”
He laughed. “I thought you’d be amused.” Then he blushed.
“Oh, God,” Wren had a sudden thought. “When I could see what was in your head, could you see what was in mine?”
Lawrence looked up in surprise, "What? Oh, no. I had no idea when you did it. But I could hear you through the ceiling. And since I was supposed to be reading, I couldn’t very well come in here and put on the news or something to drown it out, could I?”
Her own cheeks were bright, but she was uncowed. “At least we didn’t keep you up.”
“Not much, anyway,” he admitted.
Wren tried to keep her thoughts on the experiment. “I wonder why Derek can hear me, then, but you couldn’t?”
He wiped his lips with a napkin. “Well, were you trying to communicate something to me?”
“Hm, no.”
“Perhaps that’s why?” He sat back with a sly look. “You could try that tonight. He’s coming over, isn’t he?”
Wren’s blush deepened as another one of those rushes of desire went through her. “Yes. Yes, he is.”
* * *
SHE HAD ARRANGED THE room like before and was wearing only the bathrobe when her doorbell rang at quarter to eight. She went rushing down the stairs, wondering why she hadn’t heard his car, but didn’t realize until she’d pulled the door open that it wasn’t him at all.
A slightly-balding man in a golf jacket and slacks was standing there with a clipboard. “Er, hi.” He looked at the clipboard as if making sure of what he was saying. “Are you the resident of unit number three?”
“I am.” He didn’t have any logos on him like the pest control guy or like the environmental canvassers. But he seemed a little familiar. Maybe a neighbor? "Can I help you?”
“And your name is... Delacourt?” He looked as if he was trying to read the name on the buzzer and was making a bit of a production out of it.
“Yes,” she said shortly. “Is there some kind of problem?” She held the top of the robe closed. “I’m kind of busy.”
“Er, well...” He seemed at a loss, staring a bit oddly into her eyes, his own too-wide as if willing her to go along with him. And he seemed nervous. Maybe he was just so flustered by what she was wearing, or not wearing? "Um, I’m, um, from the local committee to increase voter participation. Are you registered to vote?”
“Yes, I’m registered already,” she said.
“Oh. Good. Well, don’t forget that Election Day is coming up in a few weeks, and, um, exercise your right to be part of the democratic process!” He took a step back. “Thanks for your time.”
And then he made haste down the steps and Wren watched him walk toward the next house, catching sight of Derek’s SUV as it came down the street.
He greeted her with a kiss and a close hug and she gasped. She could feel how hard he was right through the cloth of his trousers.
“I’ve been thinking about you...” he whispered in her ear.
“Come upstairs,” she said, pulling him by the hand.
She didn’t let go until they were in the bedroom, and she pulled him down for a proper kiss. “We've got a new experiment to try,” she said, when she caught her breath. “I’m going to try to send a thought to Lawrence this time instead of just receiving.”
Derek pressed her backward until she was lying flat on the bed, then opened the robe and ran his hands up her body. “Any particular message?”
She worked at his belt with her hands as he crawled over her, kissing here and there. “Hm, I hadn’t thought of that. But I probably should think of something, so what he gets isn’t just, Oh My God Derek Is So Hot!”
He chuckled. “Is there something you’ve always meant to tell him but never could?”
“Oh, like does he know he’s got dandruff or something? Sadly, Lawrence is perfect in every way and the only reason I’ve never asked him to marry me is he’s gay.” She waved a hand vaguely. “I suppose I could tell him I’m sorry the plant he gave me for Christmas two years ago actually died. You know that spider plant in the kitchen window? That’s like... the fourth one. I keep buying new ones and putting them in the same pot.”
Derek laughed again. “Perfect.”
“Me, or the idea?”
“Both.”
“You’re wearing too much.”
Apparently he agreed, climbing off the bed to get undressed while she tossed the bathrobe to the floor and got under the covers. He fluffed a pillow and then slid in next to her. He put his arms around her, and she nuzzled against his chest, so warm and soft. She petted the sparse silky hairs there in the hollow of his breastbone. “So I’ve got my experiment for tonight,” she said. “What’s yours?”
“Hm?” He made an innocent noise.
She clucked her tongue. “I can tell you’re up to something, I just don’t know what yet, because I’m not hot enough yet to read you.”
He hummed hungrily. “Then maybe I ought to do something about it, and you can find out for yourself.” He brushed his fingers past her already-stiff nipples, down to her mons. He cupped the furred bump and began rocking his hand slowly back and forth, just a half inch, no more. A circle with a tiny circumference.
She moaned. The touch was firm, but only tangential to her hottest spots, her clit hidden between her still-closed lips. But the gentle tug on the flesh was stimulating, and wetness gradually accumulated, slicking her parts, so that each small circle caused a slight friction now, her lips parting and rubbing, and then without her quite realizing it was about to happen, his middle finger slipped into the wet slit, rubbing right over her twitching clit.
Wren moaned louder, and his fingers kept moving, until that middle finger was buried to the second knuckle in her, and still his hand kept moving. She bucked against him then, and he slid deeper still as she ground her clit into the palm of his hand.
Right, the dead houseplant. She reached out for Lawrence, found him watching re-runs of CSI, and thought, So I’ve been trying to hide the fact that the plant you gave me died. Now you know...
But in the next instant she focused on Derek again. He’d hidden something under the pillow? What?
She pursued the thought until she caught it, and then she slipped a hand under the pillow to grasp something rubbery. Another dolphin?
He did not stop the movement of his hand as she pulled the toy out. This one was more penis-shaped, but still far from realistic, the same lavender as the other one, but just a gently undulating shape with a somewhat bulbous head when compared with the sleek nose of the dolphin.
The lady in the shop assured me this is the average size of the American male penis. Derek slid his finger all the way in.
But you’re larger than this.
Exactly the point.
Wren understood his plan now. To stretch her out gradually until she could take him without pain. She felt her frustration mount. You don’t have to do this, she thought. It isn’t that big a deal. I’m not made of glass. And it’s not as if you’re a Great Dane and I’m a Chihuahua.
Please, Wren.
When he asked like that, though, just a plain, unadorned plea, she couldn’t really say no, could she? And it wasn’t as if she questioned how much he wanted her. She could feel that herself. She closed her eyes and again there was something there, large and dark in his mind, like something behind a curtain.
In fact, I’d like you to put it in.
Her eyes flew open. “You want me to what?”
He withdrew his hand and coated his own cock with the juices on his fingers, then scooted back a few inches, stroking himself.
Imagine it’s me.
Wren pushed the covers down and reached between her legs with the dildo, rubbing it against herself until it was slick, and then aiming the blunt head at the place she knew it should go. She pushed, but her flesh resisted. It felt too blunt. The dolphin first, she thought.
He acquiesced, taking up the dolphin from the side table and slipping it into her inch by inch, fucking her with it carefully so that each time it sank in a bit further, until it was all the way in. Then he pulled it back a few times, until it was almost all the way out of her, before pushing it slowly back in.
Yes, yes, like that.... that’s just how you’re going to do it with your cock, she thought. At her next thought, he pulled the smaller toy away and she replaced it with the bigger one. She imagined it was Derek’s cock in her hand, that she was guiding the spongy head into place... It still took a push to get it to go, but then suddenly, the first two inches of it were buried in her. She cried out more in surprise than in pain, and then made another noise of surprise.
Derek was coming, silently but copiously, his mouth round but his eyes never closing as they roamed from the toy protruding from her body to her face.
* * *
MUCH LATER, AS THEY were drifting to sleep, Wren suddenly realized why the voter registration guy seemed to familiar. “Oh my God.”
“Hm?” He pulled her close in the crook of his body, nuzzling at the back of her neck.
“I think that was my stalker.”
“Who was?”
“Right before you showed up, a guy came to the door, acting really nervous. I wasn’t really paying much attention to what he was saying, because I was thinking about you. And I thought he was flustered because all I was wearing was a bathrobe.” She could picture him perfectly in her mind still, slightly balding, and his eyes wide. “I thought he seemed familiar, but I couldn’t figure out from where. But it was Steve, the guy who has been calling me on the phone.” Wren gripped Derek more tightly. “And that wasn’t the house next door he was walking to when you drove up. It was the red minivan.”
Derek was at the window peering out before she could stop him. “I don’t see any van now.”
She joined him, looking through the blinds. “It’s gone. I’ve been wondering whose car that was and why they were never parked in a driveway.” She couldn’t quite remember though, was it there on the nights she had dreams, and not there on the nights she didn’t?
Derek pulled her close. “What was your impression of him?”
“Steve? Same as on the phone, actually,” she said, resting her head against his chest. “Seems really, really sweet, but totally, totally vulnerable.”
He pressed a kiss against her hair. “Just like you.”
Wren gave a soft laugh. “He doesn’t feel like a stalker, is what I mean.”
“You'll call me if that van appears again? Don’t approach it. Get the license plate if you can, but don’t go near it.”
His voice had a seriousness about it that made her shiver. “Okay. But he really did seem harmless.”
“Wren.” She listened to him breathe for a few breaths. “Your intuition about this dream lover drove you to... to hurt yourself. I don’t know what the connection is between Steve and the dreams—maybe there isn’t one. But I trust your intuition, which also told you not to meet with him. Be careful.”
She pulled him toward the bed. “I will.”