Chapter 8: His Dreams

Remington was ripped from his thoughts when he realized Laura was reaching for her shirt, preparing her escape. A pair of gentle, but firm hands on her shoulders, stilled her.

"Disappoint?" he sputtered, then laughed quietly. "Why is it at any other time you make me work for absolution, yet in this, you pardon me without thought as you wholly indict yourself, hmmmm?" The question made her brows furrow.

"What do you mean?" she asked, baffled.

"I'd like to believe, given my…" he grimaced and licked his lips, finding a return to this particular topic treacherous "…considerable experience… that I'm fairly well-versed in the bedroom, yet I was rendered incapable of undoing a few buttons without your assistance. You're not the only one who allowed their nerves to get them better of them." Unconvinced, she sought to assure him instead.

"You were fine," she assured, lifting her head up when Remington guffawed behind her.

"Fine," he laughed. "Fine. Just the praise every man hopes after a round of lovemaking. Really, Laura," he pretended offense, "That's akin to telling a man the duck he slaved all day over is 'okay.'" She couldn't help the laugh that escaped past her lips, and without thought, she reached up to pat his hand placatingly.

"Don't worry, Mr. Steele. Your duck is fine," she deadpanned. He barked a surprised, but pleased, laugh.

"Ah, Laura, you are truly a cruel woman to speak of a man's duck in such a fashion." He took her hand in his and gave it a little squeeze, then leaned forward to press his lips to her palm before releasing it.

"Merely encouraging you to aspire to perfection," came her quick quip. He chuckled again before growing serious once more, while drawing his hands down her arms.

"How," he wondered aloud, "Could you possibly compare yourself to the women in my past and ever imagine you might be a disappointment to me, hmmmmm?" The question drew a puff from her lips, but nothing more as she lost the footing just found. "I spent a lifetime never knowing where I'd be next, or with who." He gave his head a shake. "No ties to anyone or anything. I didn't mind. I always liked it like that." He dipped his head, dared to trail a few feathery kisses along her collarbone, his lips lifting in a smile when her back subtly arched. "But that all changed, the day I met you," he added. His strokes changed ever so slightly, moving from comforting to sensuous, muddling her brain.

"For the better?" she breathed.

"Do you have to ask?" He brushed aside her hair, so his lips could blaze a heated path down the long column of her neck, his blood heating when she instinctively tilted her head to give him more access. "I've never stayed so long in one place my entire life, not even as a child. Yet, here I am, near on three years later, still as bewitched by you as I was the day we met."

"It was the challenge," she denied, recalling what she'd said to Bernice years before when she'd been caught daydreaming by her friend and former secretary. "I'm probably the only woman you've ever known who didn't fall right into bed with you."

"Ah, Laura," he said, disapprovingly, "hare the only woman I've ever found worth waiting for, has left me aching with the need to know you are mine, and mine alone." He dared to slide the strap of her teddy over her shoulder, then lavished collarbone and shoulder with kisses, tantalizing flicks of his tongue, light nibbles, as he spoke. "I've never met a woman quite like you. Intelligent, creative, audacious, driven, opinionated, hot-headed, demanding, hard-headed, intractable, fr—"

"You make me sound so appealing," she noted dryly, then gasped when he fastened his mouth at the base of her neck and suckled. She reached back and threaded her finger through his hair, cupping the back of his head, as her chest rose and fell more rapidly.

"Absolutely enticing," he corrected, voice growing gruff, as he moved his lips away from her skin, to trace the freckles on her shoulder with a single finger. She drew in a short breath at the sensation, lay her head back on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "It seems I've dreamt a lifetime of exploring each of these… mesmerizing… spots at my will and leisure," he whispered, his eyes focused with rapt attention upon his finger.

"You have?" she asked, breathlessly.

"Mmmmm, endlessly," he hummed. "May have even vowed a time or ten to count each dapple of color, should you ever allow me access to them, hidden as they are each day by those delightfully prim little outfits of yours." She shivered beneath his finger, arching her back, moving into his touch. How had he failed to remember Laura required distraction to get past her discomfort? That conversation engaged that complicated, often frustrating, brain of hers, and made her forget all her fears, all her rules? Her hand caressing his outer thigh drew him from his thoughts.

"You dream about me?" she prompted, enraptured by the thought.

"You and you alone have been the star of my dreams for years," he confirmed, as he slid his hand down her back to stroke her waist, a smile lifting his lips as he felt her stomach muscles jump beneath his touch.

"Velvet thighs and scarlet lips?" she wondered, visions of Charlotte Knight flashing through her head.

"I've never known you to have scarlet lips," he pointed out. Two fingers turned his face towards him. "The lovey lilt of your voice, your luscious lips," his lips covered hers, to taste, to tease, "Your glimmering eyes," he pressed a kiss to each, "Your enchanting smile," he kissed her again, then thumbed her right cheek, "The dimple that appears only when you are happiest. The spray of freckles over your skin," his lips returned to them, as he caressed the small of her back, "The way you try not to squirm at the touch of my hand, here," drawing a playful slap of her hand against her upper arm. She'd believed she'd well hidden, across the years, her reaction to his touch there. His hand whispered to her waist. "Your gloriously sensitive waist," and caressed, as his lips continued to leave heat in their wake along her shoulder, her jaw, her neck, leaving her breathing threadily. He dared to skim a hand upwards, then palmed a breast. "Your breasts, molding perfectly to the curve of my palm, as though made for me and me alone." A stroke of his thumb over her nipple left the sensitive peak puckering, as she buried her face in his neck and panted from the sensation of it all. "Your hot breath against my neck as you writhe in my arms because I am bringing you exquisite pleasure." He urged her head away from his neck, then kissed her at length. He thumbed her lip when he ended the kiss and examined her eyes with his own. "The look in your eyes that tells me when I've gotten a kiss just right." He dropped his head and inhaled deeply. "Your scent, that reminds me of home and the smell of the fields there after a springtime rain." She laughed softly. "The warmth of your laughter." He kissed her again, then cupped her cheek in his hand, his blue eyes boring into brown ones. "Do you ever dream of me, Laura?" She was held spellbound by the need she saw burning in his eyes. She nodded slowly, keeping her eyes with his.

"I do," she admitted quietly.

"Tell me."

(TBC)