Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(46)

Above them, the skies split open, drenching their naked bodies. She wrapped her legs around his and dug the heels of her hands into his shoulders, wanting him closer, even closer.

Rain pummeled his back as he thrust high and hard. She buried her head in the crook of his neck because she was drowning in the cloudburst, drowning in sensations so overpowering she didn’t want the storm ever to end.

It went on forever and was still over too quickly. She lost herself once more, just as he came apart.

She held him and reveled in his rough shuddering. He was too big for her, too heavy, but she felt bereft when he finally eased his weight.

It was raining so hard they could barely see the house, and they both seemed to realize at the same time how embarrassing this lust in the rain was for two people who needed to keep some distance from each other. If they’d gone inside and found a bed, at least there would have been a certain dignity about it, but this backyard tussling in the rain spoke of a need so overwhelming that neither wanted to acknowledge it, certainly not with tender words.

He levered himself up, raised one knee, and glanced down at her. “Pretty good for a beginner.”

She rolled to her side so that the ends of her hair dangled in the trampled grass. “Now quite as wild as I would have liked, but definitely adequate.”

He arched one brow.

She gave him a cat’s smile.

He smiled and stood, ridding himself of the condom, then leaned over to help her up. After scooping up their clothes, they walked naked back to the house. She began to shiver as the air-conditioning hit her. “If that big shower off the master bedroom is still working, I’ve got dibs.”

“Be my guest.”

Somehow she wasn’t surprised when he joined her and showed her a whole new variation on the way a truly wanton woman could make love.



Gabe sat slumped on the side of the bed wearing only a pair of jeans. In the background, he heard the hum of Jane’s hair dryer as Rachel tended to that untidy auburn tangle of hers.

He buried his head in his hands. He’d just lost another part of Cherry. Now he could no longer say that he’d only made love with one woman. That bond had been broken.

Maybe the worst part was how much he had loved being with Rachel. She was noisy and demanding, funny and passionate. And she’d made him forget the wife of his soul.

“Gabe?”

Rachel stood in the doorway that led from the bathroom to the master bedroom. His old T-shirt hung from her narrow shoulders, and his sister-in-law’s jeans were too big for her hips. She’d used the rubber band he’d found to pull her hair into a ponytail, but damp auburn ringlets framed her small face. She didn’t have on a speck of makeup, nothing to hide the sprinkle of freckles that dusted her nose, nothing to take away from the impact of those green eyes that saw too much.

“Gabe?”

He didn’t want to talk to her now. He was too raw to engage in one of their sparring contests, and he didn’t believe for a moment that lovemaking would have dulled the edges of Rachel’s sharp tongue. Why couldn’t she go away and leave him alone?


But she didn’t go away. Instead she touched his shoulder and regarded him with such understanding that his throat tightened.

“It’s all right, Gabe. I know you miss her, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”

His chest burned. Her compassion made him defenseless. Just seconds earlier he’d been dreading her waspish tongue, but now he would give anything to be hit by one of her wisecracks.

“Did Cherry ever lose her temper with you?”

Her name. Someone else had spoken her name. No one did anymore.

He knew his family and friends were trying to spare him, but he’d begun to feel as if she’d faded from everyone’s memory except his own. Now the urge to talk about her was nearly irresistible.

“She . . . Cherry wasn’t much of a fighter. She’d just get real quiet. That’s how I knew I was in trouble with her.”

Rachel nodded.

As he gazed at her, he felt as if he were glimpsing something rare, a generosity of spirit that was as much a part of her as a sassy mouth, and for a brief moment, he had the feeling that she understood something about him no one else did. But that was impossible. Rachel didn’t know him at all, not like his parents, his brothers, the guys he grew up with.

She squeezed his shoulder, then bent down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Her funny little rosebud mouth looked pink, as if she’d been nibbling a strawberry. “I want to go now.”

He nodded slowly, got up, put on his shirt. He went through all the motions of getting dressed without once letting her see that he wanted her all over again.



That night, after Rachel had finished the dishes, she took Edward into town for ice cream. It had been months since she’d been able to treat him. When she’d been married to Dwayne, she’d paid little attention to money, but now she guarded every penny, and the ones she’d set aside for tonight were precious.

Edward bounced up and down as far as the Escort’s seat belt would permit while he kept up a monologue on the relative merits of chocolate over vanilla. Rachel had invited Kristy to come along, but she’d declined. Maybe she sensed that Rachel needed time alone with her son. And time alone with her thoughts, too.

While Edward chattered on, the images of the afternoon burned in her mind: the rain, Gabe’s body, her own abandon. She’d once imagined lovemaking could be like that, but she’d long ago given up hope that it would ever happen to her.