falling where her robe came open with her anxious breaths. He even
caught a glimpse of a rosy crest peeking through the lace of her gown before
she sat up straight and adjusted the closure. "You're up so late," he
said. "I thought you might be having trouble with the head again."
Nellie slumped
against the cushioned backrest, and the robe gaped open again, though he knew
she was unaware of it. "It's Mike," she said, wearily. "He had a
nightmare."
Will sat beside
her, but determined to keep his eyes on her face. "Lots of kids have nightmares,"
he said. "I had them all the time." It had been years since he'd
awakened from his recurring dream of being on an ice floe that was slowly
drifting from shore, taking him to some dark, frightening place where he'd
scream and no one would come. The dream started the night he and Kelsey were
placed in separate homes. His foster mother assured him that wherever the ice
floe was taking him would be right for him. He couldn't remember where he'd
finally decided he was going, but it was months before the ice floe nightmare
stopped. It stopped, that is, until he was sixteen, when another, far more
terrifying one took its place....
"It's
different with Mike," Nellie insisted. "He wakes up screaming, and
it's always the same dream. I've lost count of how many nights he's startled me
with his screams. Sometimes he thrashes around still sleeping, and I can hardly
wake him."
"I'm
surprised I didn't hear him," Will said. "The windows in the
boathouse are open."
"Tonight
he didn't actually scream, just moaned and thrashed around," Nellie
replied. "But other times he does. Some nights he's more disturbed than
others. I try to calm him as best I can, usually by rubbing his back until he
falls asleep again. But then I stay awake the rest of the night. It's pretty
emotionally draining." She let out a weary breath and slumped her
shoulders and he was rewarded by a view of a lace-clad breast and a puckered
tip.
Fighting the
urge to slip his hand inside her robe and fill his palm with all that soft
female flesh, he forced himself to focus on her face. "You're really
worried," he said, wondering if the rise and fall of her chest was from
anxiety, or because he was there. Her proximity was definitely having a
dramatic effect on him.
"He keeps
dreaming about falling into a deep dark hole," Nellie said. "It
started after the automobile accident that killed his father and came close to
killing him. Dr. Emery says the dreams will taper off, but that's not the case.
They seem to come more frequently. This is the third time this week."
Will moved to
sit beside her and took her hand, and when she made no move to stop him, he
began idly stroking her wrist with his thumb. "Has Mike tried to interpret
his own dream?" he asked, wondering if the rest of Nellie was as soft as
her wrist. Damn! That robe was driving him crazy… as was that troublesome part
of him below his waist...
"Dr. Emery
discussed the dream with him," Nellie explained. "He told Mike it was
a reaction to losing someone he loved, that dreaming of going through a dark
tunnel represents his period of adjustment before achieving his desire, which
is to accept the death of his father." Her intake of air had the robe
closing momentarily, but the long sigh that followed had it gaping open again.
Realizing he
was coming up with more reasons to act on his natural impulse to slip his hand
inside her robe than to continue holding her hand, he said, "Sorry, but
I'm having trouble following what you're saying." He reached over and
pulled the robe closed.
"Oh my
gosh!" Nellie clamped her hands over her chest before Will could pull his
hand away, trapping his palm against her breast. As Will withdrew his hand, the
intimate contact was almost his undoing. He'd felt a sample of what Nellie had
to offer, and he knew it would haunt him until he either acted on it, or she
was out of his life. Oddly, he found the latter troubling, though he knew it
was
caught a glimpse of a rosy crest peeking through the lace of her gown before
she sat up straight and adjusted the closure. "You're up so late," he
said. "I thought you might be having trouble with the head again."
Nellie slumped
against the cushioned backrest, and the robe gaped open again, though he knew
she was unaware of it. "It's Mike," she said, wearily. "He had a
nightmare."
Will sat beside
her, but determined to keep his eyes on her face. "Lots of kids have nightmares,"
he said. "I had them all the time." It had been years since he'd
awakened from his recurring dream of being on an ice floe that was slowly
drifting from shore, taking him to some dark, frightening place where he'd
scream and no one would come. The dream started the night he and Kelsey were
placed in separate homes. His foster mother assured him that wherever the ice
floe was taking him would be right for him. He couldn't remember where he'd
finally decided he was going, but it was months before the ice floe nightmare
stopped. It stopped, that is, until he was sixteen, when another, far more
terrifying one took its place....
"It's
different with Mike," Nellie insisted. "He wakes up screaming, and
it's always the same dream. I've lost count of how many nights he's startled me
with his screams. Sometimes he thrashes around still sleeping, and I can hardly
wake him."
"I'm
surprised I didn't hear him," Will said. "The windows in the
boathouse are open."
"Tonight
he didn't actually scream, just moaned and thrashed around," Nellie
replied. "But other times he does. Some nights he's more disturbed than
others. I try to calm him as best I can, usually by rubbing his back until he
falls asleep again. But then I stay awake the rest of the night. It's pretty
emotionally draining." She let out a weary breath and slumped her
shoulders and he was rewarded by a view of a lace-clad breast and a puckered
tip.
Fighting the
urge to slip his hand inside her robe and fill his palm with all that soft
female flesh, he forced himself to focus on her face. "You're really
worried," he said, wondering if the rise and fall of her chest was from
anxiety, or because he was there. Her proximity was definitely having a
dramatic effect on him.
"He keeps
dreaming about falling into a deep dark hole," Nellie said. "It
started after the automobile accident that killed his father and came close to
killing him. Dr. Emery says the dreams will taper off, but that's not the case.
They seem to come more frequently. This is the third time this week."
Will moved to
sit beside her and took her hand, and when she made no move to stop him, he
began idly stroking her wrist with his thumb. "Has Mike tried to interpret
his own dream?" he asked, wondering if the rest of Nellie was as soft as
her wrist. Damn! That robe was driving him crazy… as was that troublesome part
of him below his waist...
"Dr. Emery
discussed the dream with him," Nellie explained. "He told Mike it was
a reaction to losing someone he loved, that dreaming of going through a dark
tunnel represents his period of adjustment before achieving his desire, which
is to accept the death of his father." Her intake of air had the robe
closing momentarily, but the long sigh that followed had it gaping open again.
Realizing he
was coming up with more reasons to act on his natural impulse to slip his hand
inside her robe than to continue holding her hand, he said, "Sorry, but
I'm having trouble following what you're saying." He reached over and
pulled the robe closed.
"Oh my
gosh!" Nellie clamped her hands over her chest before Will could pull his
hand away, trapping his palm against her breast. As Will withdrew his hand, the
intimate contact was almost his undoing. He'd felt a sample of what Nellie had
to offer, and he knew it would haunt him until he either acted on it, or she
was out of his life. Oddly, he found the latter troubling, though he knew it
was
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