Later, even after he’d forced his eyes closed, he was conscious of her warm body folded against him, of the cool satin teasing the length of his flesh. The smell of her hair and skin, the weight of her breast so heavy and supple against his chest, the softness of her cheek…

The hush of silence was all around him, dark and empty. Lonely. His whole body throbbed with wanting her. Wearily, his eyes blinked open again. Sleep-real sleep-had eluded him for weeks. Tonight was going to be no different.


***

Men were chasing her. Hundreds of them, one with pale, light eyes that shone out of the darkness like steady pinpricks. She tripped and got up again, tripped and stumbled to her feet again, sobbing. She was wearing green, something bright and soft; it was tearing, ripping from her. “Don’t you touch me!” she screamed. A hundred hands flashed in front of her eyes. Laughter. Their laughter.

She crashed into a tree; she turned around and tumbled over a bush. The laughter chased her through the fog, coming closer; the darkness was somehow green and she ached with terror, hating it, sick with it. Clawlike hands grabbed at her shoulder, twisting her, whirling her around. “No! Get away from me-”

“Honey. Wake up, love…”

She beat out with her fists, wild, smashing blows. She felt a palm on her stomach and exploded. “Leave him alone. You leave him alone…”

“Sonia.”

Green faded to darkness; her eyes blinked open, disoriented. Her whole body was violently trembling but she instantly recognized the firm arms around her as Craig’s.

“Easy, easy, love,” he whispered. “It was only a dream. You were dreaming, Sonia. You’re here and safe. Nothing will harm you. Nothing. I promise you…”

“I…” For an instant, she couldn’t seem to stop shaking; she couldn’t even talk. She buried her face in the warm flesh of his chest, wrapped her arms around his waist and just held on. So foolish. Already she knew how foolish it was to relive their attack in a dream; if she hadn’t had it on her mind before she went to sleep…

Craig’s hand stroked and soothed. His fingers brushed back her hair; his lips pressed on her forehead and cheeks, and then he just held her again. “Nothing’s going to hurt you,” he promised again, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. There was a discordant echo somewhere, something almost like anger emanating from him, but his touch could not have been more tender. “You’re right here,” he murmured. “Safe, little one. Completely safe.”

She raised her face to his. “So…stupid,” she whispered groggily. “So stupid. Craig, I haven’t been dreaming about it.” Her tongue was still thick with sleep, her mind still in that half-confusion of dreams, yet the words kept coming out in a helpless tumble. “I haven’t. It was only this once. I’ve forgotten, completely forgotten, about what happened.”

He shifted over her, his mouth pressing on hers, sealing the words back. He heard her and knew exactly what she wanted to tell him-and he believed her not at all. Sonia had forgotten nothing. Guilt lanced through him like a raging ache, the same ache that had haunted him for weeks…and his lips were rough on hers, smooth and hard and demanding. And then not. His guilt was not Sonia’s. Suddenly, the only thing in his head was the need to drive those memories from Sonia’s mind. Block them, erase them, obliterate them.

“Craig-”

He tossed back the sheets and heard her intake of breath as the cool night air trembled over her skin. His fingers pushed up the nightgown, his palms sliding up over thighs and hips and stomach far softer than satin.

“Craig. I-”

In a smooth swish, the nightgown landed on the floor. He stole the pillow from beneath her, and it landed on the floor as well. The firm surface of the mattress was all he wanted beneath her, a playground he knew well. In his head was everything he’d ever learned of Sonia, a thousand nights of touching behind them, a knowledge of everything that had ever pleased her, every special caress that had ever fired her passion.

She would forget the Chicago nightmare. His lips parted on hers, open, his tongue stealing inside like a swift thief; her warm sweetness was his treasure. He drew her arms up, holding them by the wrists, and felt her limbs twist around him, her breasts arching instinctively for the crush of his weight.

He calmed a little at her instant responsiveness. But only a little. He wanted more, much more, of her, and his lips rushed down her throat, down to her breasts. His mouth captured one honey-tipped nipple, not giving her a chance to breathe, a chance to think. He didn’t want her to think. He wanted every memory exorcised, every thought buried.

He rolled over and shifted her on top of him, his hands sweeping down the slope of her spine, fingers splaying on the smooth flesh of her bottom, rubbing her deliberately against the cradle of his thighs, forcing her awareness of his arousal between them. “Feel,” he murmured. “Feel how much I want you. I’ll take you so high you’ll never come down. Never, Sonia.”

So fierce. A delicious tremble rippled through her. A month of loneliness for the lover she knew Craig to be sent an explosion of sensual feelings to every nerve ending in her body. The dark night and stillness and hazy sleep-fog were all part of that. His rushing hands and breath and pounding heartbeat were so much more.

His lips were everywhere-on her fingertips, trailing along her arms, stealing down her sides. His tongue lapped the underside of her breasts, first one, then the other, and her fingers curled in his hair, pressing into the thick, dark mat, holding him to her. The breath hissed out of her lungs as his tongue went lower, yet that intimate touch was not his ultimate goal. His lips had miles to go, down the long slope of her thighs, then up her back. His teeth nipped at the soft flesh of her fanny, and she twisted.

Almost, a smile touched his features. She didn’t like that. It wasn’t quite…nice. He nipped again, asserting his control…a tender, gentle control. For this moment, her body belonged to him, every inch, every crevice, every hollow and swell. He molded her softness beneath his hands. He claimed her breath when he turned her, seeking her mouth again.

“Now,” she murmured. “Please, Craig…”

“Not yet,” he whispered back. “Not yet…”

“Yes.”

Her whisper was a demand, not a request, and he did smile then, a smile of loving softness in the darkness. His eyes, dark and intense, never left her face as his hands moved down in slow motion, teasing her taut, firm breasts, feeling the life surge through her body. His arousal brushed against her thighs, hot, aching. Her hands searched for him, and when he shifted slightly, she reached for his buttocks, trying to pull him to her.

He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to claim her flesh, her mind, her soul-to take her with such total possession that she would cry out for him. Her flesh was coated with damp silk; so was his. His hands were rough and then tender, fiercely possessive and then teasing.

He hadn’t forgotten her nightmare. He couldn’t. Guilt seared through him when he touched her; Sonia could not be more vulnerable than in loving, her limbs sprawled for him, uninhibited, Eve in desire, all woman in softness. He had risked her vulnerability another night, exactly that soft vulnerability…

“Craig…”

His palm glided down, over breasts and tummy and into the soft delta of hair between her thighs. Her limbs tightened, shuddering, when his finger slid into her warmth. His lips found hers in the darkness, found them and refused to let them go. His finger probed and withdrew, probed and withdrew.

Her whole body tightened, her breath rasping beneath his lips. He kissed that tremble of ecstasy, yet there was another and another and another before he let her sleep. She exploded for him; he could feel her burst free and keep on soaring. And when she finally leaned her head against him, exhausted, sleep claiming her, his lips brushed one last time against her forehead.

His own body throbbed with frustration, with exhaustion. It wasn’t a choice, his own denial. His body refused him release, the weight of guilt for failing her like a wall too high, too thick, for him to escape.


***

“Charlie, do you know where Craig is?”

Charlie looked up from his steaming cup of coffee and morning paper. He looked a little startled at the broody brightness in Sonia’s eyes, but his grin was natural. “He slipped out early.” Charlie added wryly, “You look a little perkier than usual this morning, but then, I know better than to expect you to be cheerful in the morning. Coffee’s on the stove.”

Sonia smiled but didn’t move from the doorway. “Did he say what time he’d be back?”

“Nope. Hopin’ for midafteroon, but you know he’ll get caught up until dinner.”

“Yes.” In jeans and bare feet and a crinkled red blouse, Sonia ambled forward to pour herself a cup of coffee. Every limb and muscle in her body vibrated this morning, but she felt edgy and unsure. She took a cautious sip of the hot brew, staring at the gray head turned away from her. Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Charlie.”

“Hmm.”

Her voice was ultra quiet. “I think it’s time you and I had a little talk.”

Charlie’s head whipped up again. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. With me. It’s Craig. And you know what’s been bothering him, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about? Nothing’s bothering him.”

But the knowledge was there in his eyes. Charlie was a terrible liar. Sonia perched on the chair next to him. “If I should happen to mention that I wanted to go into town this afternoon, what do you think my chances of going alone are? Will George miraculously need new parts from Brock’s? And if I mention we’re out of Corn Flakes, are you going to suddenly rush into town so I won’t go there alone?”