Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(124)

When she couldn’t stand it, she began pulling at his clothing, and she didn’t stop until he was naked.

His body. She drank in the sight of those ridges of muscle, the lines between tanned and lighter skin, the patch of dark hair on his chest and at his groin. She cupped him, feeling the heavy weight there, the tensile strength, loving the sound of his irregular breathing.

They fell back on the bed and discovered neither of them had the patience for slowness. She needed his heavy weight on top of her, anchoring her to this bed, this house, this town—binding the two of them together forever. And he needed it too.

Only when he was buried deep inside her did they slow. She wrapped her legs around his, loving the feeling of being completely open for him, of being possessed by him.

His gray eyes gazed down into hers. “I love you, Rachel.”

She lifted the hand she’d curled around his hip and brought it to the nape of his neck, sheltering him as she smiled her own love back before she whispered the words she knew he wanted to hear. “I love you, Gabe.”

He moved inside her, and their passion built, but neither looked away. They kept their eyes locked, unwilling to give in to the primal instinct that craved privacy at this moment of deepest vulnerability.

He didn’t drop his head to the crook of her neck, but kept it above her, staring down. She didn’t turn her cheek into the pillow but gazed upward.


The boldness of allowing another person, even one so deeply loved, to have such an open conduit into the other’s soul intensified every movement.

Green eyes swallowed silver. Silver devoured green.

“Oh, Rach . . .”

“My love . . .”

Eyes open, they came together in a melding of souls.





“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just can’t seem to make up my mind.” Rachel caught her lip between her teeth, the perfect picture of an indecisive female except for the faintly diabolic glimmer in her eyes. “You were right, Ethan. I should have listened to you. The couch did fit better by the window.”

Ethan exchanged a long-suffering look with his oldest brother. “Let’s move it back to the window, Cal.”

Gabe watched from the doorway with a great deal of amusement as his brothers hoisted the heavy couch until it was once again beneath the cottage’s front window. He loved watching Rachel torture his brothers. She made Ethan fetch and carry for her, and when Cal visited, she developed an insatiable need to have all the new furniture they’d bought for the cottage rearranged.

She held the biggest grudge against Cal, so, even though he was around less frequently, he got the worst of it. She’d conned him into going to school with Chip last fall as his show-and-tell project, and she made him sign a ton of autographs for every kid she met. She still loved to save money, so she’d also made him agree to give future free medical care to Chip and the other children she and Gabe had, to all of Ethan and Kristy’s children, and to herself, as long as she didn’t have to take her clothes off. Cal had the nerve to argue with her about the last part.

No matter what Rachel demanded from his brothers, Gabe acted dumb, as if he didn’t know what was going on. It drove them crazy, but they never complained because they still felt so guilty about the hard time they’d given her. As penance, they did as she asked, and she rewarded them by asking for even more.

Just this morning Gabe had inquired exactly how much longer she thought she could stretch this thing out, and she’d said she figured she could get another six months from it, but he doubted it. She didn’t have a real killer instinct, and his brothers could be charming bastards when they set their minds to it. For a long time now, she’d been running more on mischief than retribution.

Cal finished positioning his end of the couch and shot Gabe an irritated look. “Tell me one more time, Rach. Why is it that lazy lug you married can’t help move your furniture?”

Rachel reached down to stroke Snoozer, their calico cat. “Now, Cal, you know that Gabe has a trick back. I just don’t think it’s wise for him to aggravate it.”

Cal muttered something under his breath that sounded like “Trick back, my ass.”

Rachel pretended she didn’t hear, while Gabe tried to support his beloved wife by looking like someone who might actually have a trick back.

As he lounged in the doorway, he realized that, after a year of marriage, he hadn’t come close to getting tired of watching her. For the cookout they were having today, she wore tailored walking shorts with a silk maternity top, both of them the same blue as the hyacinths that had come up this spring in front of the cottage. A pair of small diamond earrings dangling from thin European wires glimmered through her auburn curls, which were cut shorter now, but were still a little disheveled, the way he liked. He’d bought her bigger diamond earrings, but she’d made him exchange them, saying this size suited her just fine.

What he most enjoyed about her appearance today—and most days, for that matter—were her shoes, a slim pair of silver sandals with a tiny wedged heel. He loved those sandals. He loved all the shoes he bought for her.

“Cal, that armchair . . . I hate to ask, but you’re always so sweet about helping me. Would you mind moving it nearer the fireplace?”

“Not at all.” Gabe could almost hear Cal’s teeth grinding as he hoisted the chair across the room.