CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
She startled awake, straining for breath.
“May?”
The room was dark, unfamiliar, and she was trapped, a band around her ribcage, unable to get—
“You going somewhere?”
His low, sleep-rough voice dulled her fear, transforming it into bewilderment.
Going somewhere? Was she? She’d been dreaming about a mountain road. Driving a bus. Water rising.
A bad dream.
She was in Ben’s bed, his arm draped over her chest.
Collapsing into the soft mattress, she laid down her head. “No.”
He scooted closer and tightened his arm. “Nightmare?”
“Yeah.”
“Poor May.” Warm fingers brushed her hair away from her neck, and then she felt his lips on her skin.
She closed her eyes, savoring the heat of his mouth and the press of his hard body behind her. Her butt fit neatly into the cradle of his hips, and his knees produced a hard pressure against the backs of her own.
“You have a lot of bad dreams?”
“Not a lot. Some.”
“Is my arm too heavy?”
“No.” She interlaced her fingers with his and closed her eyes. “Do you have them?”
“I can never remember my dreams.”
“I think I was driving a bus in South America.”
He chuckled. “That’s a nightmare?”
“The road kept getting narrower, with this steep cliff on one side, and I didn’t know how to drive the bus, really. And then there was water running over the road. I couldn’t decide what to do.”
“Were there people on the bus?”
“Yeah. And they were all trying to give me advice, but I don’t speak Spanish. And I think I didn’t have a driver’s license.”
“If I had a dream like that, I’d probably be driving around the neighborhood trying to find a parking spot and end up having to parallel park the bus.”
“Can’t you parallel park?”
“I can, but I hate it. And you have to do it a lot, parking around here.”
“I didn’t know you had a car.”
“Mmm-hmm. A van.”
“I have the bus dream pretty often.”