much as he wanted her. Moving in had not slowed their love making but had tempered their desire somewhat.
He had never been this hard or rough with her and she was encouraging him, her hands finding the wall behind her, her back arching and she was moaning his name over and over. He felt her tremble against him, felt the first wave of her orgasm push against him. He slammed into her again. He twisted her head and bit into her neck as he came deep inside her.
“I was worried we were fizzling,” he said.
“That will never happen,” she said. “We’re still missing wine and candles.”
“Why haven’t we done that in the six months we’ve been together?”
“Who can think candles when I just want you?”
She pulled down her dress and he pulled up his pants and zippered them. He took her hand and they went upstairs. They undressed and had a warm shower together.
A loud scream woke her from her sleep. She turned to look at him. He was screaming in his sleep. His hands were balled into fists and he was tossing and turning. For a moment she was frightened. He had never done this before. She reached out and shook him. He pushed her away with such force she tumbled to the edge of the bed. Her side rammed against the bedside table as she tried to get her balance. She was shocked.
He was mumbling incoherently now and still tossing. He was sweating profusely now. He was still sleeping, still dreaming. This time she climbed on top of him. With all the might she could muster, she held his hands at his sides.
“James!” she shouted.
His eyes flew open and he looked at her dazed and confused still thrashing beneath her.
“James,” she said his name again and this time it registered. She felt him relax under her grip. “Honey you were having a bad dream.”
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
“We’ve had rougher tumbles,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” his reply was breathy.
“What were you dreaming about?”
“I don’t know.”
Willow knew he was lying, but she didn’t push. She got off him and laid beside him, pulling him into fierce hug, trying to beat the nightmare away.
James saw the bruise just below her waist as she was getting dressed in the morning. He didn’t ask about it. He tried to remember if he could have hurt her downstairs when they had ravished each other. He didn’t think so. He felt even worse when she winced pulling on her skirt.
“Are you okay?” he asked her as he pulled on his jacket.
“I’m perfect,” she said. “I have to remember walls are not kind to backsides.”
“I’m sorry if -.”
“Not your fault,” she brushed him off easily. “It was my idea, remember. No more mid-week partying.”
He nodded.
He thought about her all day. He knew something happened in the night. Did he hurt her? He just wasn’t sure.
He knew what the nightmares were about. They had started creeping back into his life the moment he had decided he wanted to ask her to marry him. They started subtly at first, a tiny glimpse here and there, but then they got bolder and he was losing control. He had only been searching for small pieces to tell her. There were small bits that would not have exposed the monster that was buried inside. He just had to find them.
He was better with her. He hadn’t done the right thing with the aid package because he wanted to. He did it because he knew she expected him to. She had told him that in her kitchen.
It took him two years to bury the monster, to lock it neatly away in the far corners of his mind. The box came undone with four words, I love you James. He’d struggled to get the lid back on. Their lovemaking hadn’t lost its spark because of her or anything she did. It was because of him. Because every time he held her, every time he buried himself inside he could feel it there, scratching at the surface.
She was on her laptop when he got home. She’d already showered. He saw the tiny wet spot on her blouse when he bent to kiss her. She had an ice-pack on the bruise.
“How was your day?” he asked.
“Short,” she said. “How was yours?”
“I’m thinking this next trip to New York will be my last as a trade envoy,” he said. “I think it’s unfair leaving Cassandra with the new CEO.”
“Is he being a brute?”
“She