Mary tore her mouth away on a gasp and twisted her head from side to side. Her gasps quickly turned into mewls of sound as he began to caress her. Dante watched her thrash beneath him, fascinated. She was incredibly beautiful to him, glowing with passion and need and . . . suddenly gone. He didn’t know if it was her sudden disappearance from the dream or the sound of her voice that startled him awake, but he opened his eyes to the dark RV and sat up, listening to the sound of her murmured attempts to soothe her dog.
“It’s okay Bailey. Mommy’s fine. She was just dreaming. It’s okay. Stop licking my face, sweetie. Mommy’s fine.”
Dante let his breath out on a sound that was half amused and half frustrated, and then sank back on the bed. Mary must have been moaning and perhaps even thrashing in her sleep as they’d had their shared dream. It had obviously alarmed the dog to the point she’d woken up her mistress . . . bringing an end to the lovely dream.
He listened to Mary as she continued to soothe the dog, but when the dog apparently settled and she fell silent, he closed his eyes, eager to return to sleep and the dream they’d been sharing.
Mary moaned and pushed Bailey wearily away for about the hundredth time since she’d gone to bed. The dog had repeatedly wakened her from sleep through the night, licking her cheek and pawing at her arm to pull her from sleep and the dreams that had apparently made her restless and disturbed Bailey’s sleep.
Sighing her relief when Bailey gave up licking at her face and merely dropped her head to rest it on Mary’s belly, she wiped her eyes tiredly. She was exhausted, and extremely frustrated after a night of wet dreams that had constantly been interrupted before they could reach their happy ending.
Each one of those dreams had been about her and Dante, and Mary supposed she should be embarrassed, but hell, they were just dreams and they weren’t the first inappropriate ones she’d had in her life. Besides, what they amounted to was her subconscious telling her that she was attracted to Dante. Not surprising. He was a good-looking young man and built like a damned Adonis.
Actually, Adonis probably would have envied him, she thought. But the point was that of course she’d lust after him. Who wouldn’t? It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like she was going to try to drag those dreams into reality with her. She’d just enjoyed them for the private fantasy they were. Well, as much as she could enjoy them with Bailey taking on the coitus-interruptus cape. Honestly, Mary loved the dog, but sometimes she could just smack her.
Bailey shifted her head a little higher on Mary’s stomach and whined piteously, a sure sign she wanted to go outside and relieve herself. Mary pulled her hands from her face and scowled at the dog.
“Really?” she asked in a hissed whisper. “Keep me up half the night with your nonsense and then expect me to crawl out of bed to let you out?”
Bailey blinked at her innocently, eyes wide, and Mary sighed and sat up, forcing the dog off of her. She muttered, “Fine. But I have to dress first, so you’ll just have to wait a couple minutes.”
Bailey whimpered and sat up to give her “the sad eyes,” and Mary shook her head and grimaced in response. She supposed, to be fair about it, she had obviously kept the dog awake with her thrashing about and moaning in her sleep. In fact, Mary supposed she should be grateful Bailey had woken her repeatedly, otherwise she might have disturbed Dante’s sleep . . . and wouldn’t that have been embarrassing? It probably would have been obvious that her dreams were sexual in nature. Bailey had woken her up at one point as she was gasping, “oh, oh, oh,” over and over again. In her dream, Dante was—Well, point being, she’d still been crying out when she’d woken up. Had she got much louder, her guest would have heard and had no doubt about the kind of dreams she was enjoying.
Which is perfectly normal and healthy, Mary told herself as she crawled to the end of the bed and stood to tug the closet door open to find clothes. Hell, she was surprised she could still have wet dreams.
Sunlight was pouring in through the open blinds at the head of the bed, making it easy to see and pick out clothes. Mary moved quickly into the bathroom with shorts and a T-shirt and closed the door so Bailey wouldn’t try to follow. The bathroom, while spacious for an RV, was tiny enough that the two of them in there would have made it as crowded as the subway at rush hour.
Very aware that Bailey needed to relieve herself too, Mary started out trying to be quick about getting herself ready to face the day, but then as it occurred to her that they would no doubt wake up poor Dante as they traipsed through the living area, she frowned and slowed a bit. It was times like this that she realized how inconvenient an RV could be. Of course, with just her and Joe in it, having only one door had never been a problem, but the few times they’d had guests with them, she’d thought that a second exit in the back of the RV might have been nice. Of course, there was nowhere to put one back here, unless she wanted to walk through the shower to a door, but . . .
Grimacing, she grabbed the brush and ran it quickly through her hair. There was nothing for it; she’d have to take the risk of disturbing Dante. It would be cruel to make Bailey wait until they heard Dante stirring out there. He was young and might sleep for hours yet. Sighing, she set down the brush, then turned and slid the bathroom door open, only to pause when she saw that the bedroom door was cracked open and Bailey was gone.
Frowning, Mary crossed to open the pocket door all the way and peered out into a pristine living area. The couch was back to its L shape, the sheets and blanket removed, folded neatly and resting on the last seat with the pillows on top and Bailey and Dante were nowhere to be seen.
Moving to the window over the sink, she shifted the blinds aside and peered out, a small smile claiming her face when she saw Dante walking Bailey toward the river. He was wearing a pair of Joe’s jeans and the black T-shirt from the small stack of clothes she’d given him. Both items were tight on him, the jeans hugging him in all the right places, but at least reaching to the tops of his feet, which sort of surprised her. Joe had been six feet, but this man was a good eight inches taller. Of course, he was wearing them low on the hips whereas Joe had worn them at the waist, and he appeared to have a longer torso than Joe, who had been all legs. As for the T-shirt, well, it had certainly never looked that good on Joe. Where Joe had preferred loose T-shirts, this one was tight on Dante, at least across the chest and on his upper arms where it hugged him like a woman in love. It was loose at the waist though. The man had a smaller waist than most women she knew, Mary noted with appreciation.
Damn, he was a fine-looking man, she thought. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail low on his neck. She’d never thought much of long hair on men, but he could convert her. It was a shame she wasn’t thirty or forty years younger, she thought with a sigh and then made herself stop ogling the poor man and turn to the chore of making coffee.
Mary made a cup for herself, then prepared one for Dante and set them on the counter by the door before filling a dog dish with food and water. She carried the double-bowled dog dish outside first, and set it on the picnic table to protect it from visiting neighbor dogs. Mary then returned to the RV and grabbed both coffees and carried them to the picnic table as well. She’d barely settled on the seat and taken her first sip of coffee when Dante appeared, walking up the path with a well-behaved Bailey leading the way.
The perfect dog performance Bailey was giving ended the moment she spotted Mary seated at the picnic table. The German shepherd immediately jerked at her leash, trying to charge forward. But one word from Dante and she settled back to a walk, if a much faster one.
“I made you coffee,” Mary said, pushing his cup across the table as he sat down across from her. She then moved Bailey’s double dog dish to the ground, smiling faintly when the dog attacked the food as if she hadn’t eaten in days. Bailey always acted like she had to gobble it all up or someone might take it away. Perhaps a remnant of the first eight weeks of her life, where she’d been part of a litter and probably had had to eat quickly or her siblings would eat it all.
“You look tired,” Dante said quietly.
Mary stiffened and then continued to stare at Bailey, aware that she was blushing. Hoping he hadn’t noticed, she shrugged. “Didn’t sleep well. Probably just all the excitement of the day,” she added, although that was a blatant lie. It had been the excitement of her dreams and their disturbing Bailey that had caused her lack of sleep.