Chapter 12

Lately Meredith had been dropping off to sleep with ease, and tonight was no exception. After the conversation with Gus, the afternoon’s vision, and more than anything, the day in the company of the stranger, her strength felt sapped. The moment her head touched the pillow, sleep surged up. She fought it for a moment, drawing back in fear from the dark edge of unconsciousness that was encroaching. The man waited there and she did not want to go to him, but the dream was strong. It pulled her downward, as if her limbs had no strength; a slow but enormous wave that dragged her under and into his arms.

The dream began at Mantazilla. She knew they were there, although she did not recognize the room. The walls were patterned with blue-and-white paper, and sunlight spread a diffuse haze through the curtained windows, making everything sparkle.

The air was warm. Her skin tingled with a radiant glow, as if she had just emerged from a pleasantly stinging shower. Each nerve felt separately alive, sensitive to the smooth coolness of the sheet beneath her, to the soft pillow cradling her neck, to the warmth of his hands gliding over her skin.

Meredith looked up. The man’s eyes were closed, and his lashes were light, feathered brushstrokes above his high cheekbones. In the hazy light, the flush that had come to his cheeks glowed like faint flames against his pale skin. His lips were pressed to a thin line, and the intensity of his expression drew his skin taut, making the delicate bones of his jaw stand out.

The man leaned above her, supporting his weight on his arms. A froth of blond hair sparkled on his chest, muscles rippling faintly beneath it. The skin of his shoulders and arms glistened with a light film of sweat, and his body heat, like a hot wind blowing from the desert, stirred her senses. His movement pressed her ear to his chest. Deep inside, she heard the harsh rhythm of his breathing and the pulsing of his heart.

They were rocking, rocking, like a small boat braving a storm. Meredith’s own breath came in sharp gasps, forced from her by the strength of his movements. A warmth began in her thighs and spread rapidly upward over her hips to ignite a hot glowing cone in her belly. It flared and raced out to her limbs, her flesh, her emotions. This was love. He was bringing it to her. She loved him with all the desperation of his blows against her hips.

She gave a sharp cry as he thrust deeply one last time and spasmed against her. She closed her eyes, and the darkness shone with a bright, shimmering glaze. The dream washed over her like a wave, tumbling her senses and tossing her upward to drift aimlessly in deep, velvety warmth.

She did not know how much later it was when the dream resumed. She awakened to the urgency of his lips. His body moved in slow and sensual rhythm against her breasts and thighs. She looked up and fell into the ocean of his gaze.