“Let’s do it.” Without waiting on him to strip the rest of the way, I popped to my feet and took off running so I could dive into the cool evening water.
I was having a good delicious dream about Knox moving inside me, hitting a spot that had me right on the edge, when someone crawled into bed with me, jerking me awake.
I gasped, embarrassed and...well, mostly just embarrassed out of my freaking mind. It skeeved me out to be having a sex dream while a ten-year-old was seeking me for comfort after a nightmare. But damn, after almost reaching an orgasm with Knox at the club, I was left so hot and bothered I couldn’t even be that mad at him for abandoning me afterward.
I mean, okay, yes, I was upset. Pissed, really. But at least now I knew he still cared for me, he still wanted me, he still missed me. His inability to deny his love for me told me everything I needed to know. He was holding himself back for some oddball reason I wasn’t yet aware of, but as soon as I figured out what that aggravating reason was, I was going to crush it under my feet and make it a total non-issue so he’d never feel the need to push me away again.
But first, I had to deal with Colton Gamble. This was the third night in a row he’d sought me after a nightmare. The first two times, I hadn’t asked him anything after I’d gotten it out of him that he’d had a bad dream and just wanted company. I’d let it go and allowed him to stay the rest of the night. When I’d asked Aspen about it, she’d said he used to do that to Caroline, his sister, when she’d lived here.
Tonight, however, I was ready for him...well, as soon as I cooled my jets and stopped thinking of Knox’s cock inside me.
“Another bad dream?” I asked after a minute, acting as if I were just then waking up.
He cuddled in closer to me, trembling. “Yeah.”
“Poor boy.” I smoothed his sweat-damp hair off his forehead. “I hate having nightmares. I used to dream that I showed up to school in nothing but my underwear and everyone laughed and pointed, and no matter where I looked, I couldn’t find any clothes to wear.”
Colton giggled; his muscles relaxed.
“What was your dream about?” When he didn’t answer, I guessed. “It was about zombies, wasn’t it?”
Zombie games were our thing. Whenever I came to visit—before I actually lived with the Gambles—we usually played some version of a zombie game on one of his gaming systems. Or we were known to watch the show iZombie together. He was slightly obsessed with them. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if the undead were haunting his dreams.
“No,” he mumbled, though. “It was about my mom.”