Free Abby's Christmas Spirit by Erin McCarthy Page B

senseless.
    He liked those dreams better. This one had felt… contrived.
    Abby’s fingers splayed across his bare chest. “You okay?” she asked.
    Maybe it was just the result of dozing off after sex. He was discombobulated. Or something. “Yeah. Fine.”
    “You’ve never woken up in a dream before when I’ve touched your penis.”
    Darius stiffened. And not in his cock. Shoulders tensed, he glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean you usually like me to touch you when I enter one of your dreams.”
    Somehow he had managed to forget about the fact that she thought she was the one willfully prancing into his dreams. Not that it was a total coincidence. “You can’t really believe you’re entering my dreams.” He knew it seemed astonishing that she knew what happened, but there had to be another explanation. One that made sense.
    “You can’t really be this patronizing.” Abby sat up, her hair falling over her bare chest. “How do you explain that I know everything you dream about unless I’m actually there?”
    Hell if he knew but her explanation was completely impossible. “Coincidence.”
    She snorted. “Wake up. Pun intended. It’s not a coincidence. We were talking about living together. I was wearing a black sweater. The bedroom is painted beige.”
    He couldn’t accept it, he just couldn’t. It didn’t make sense to his logical brain. “It’s just a dream.”
    “A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality.”
    The panic was increasing. He couldn’t do this, this alternate reality shit. “Who said that? A Wiccan priestess?”
    With a sound of outrage, she threw back the blanket. “It was actually John Lennon, asshole.”
    Abby bent over to retrieve her clothes from the hotel room floor. It suddenly felt cheap to be here with him. He was exactly what she had thought he was—a businessman with no soul. He wasn’t her destiny. He wasn’t even open to listening to her, let alone believing her.
    “Oh. Where are you going?”
    “I’m leaving.”
    “Come on, don’t leave. I enjoy your company, I want to get to know you better.”
    “You enjoy the sex,” she said bluntly, pulling on her panties and jeans. “Which is fine. I do, too. But I don’t need to be made fun of. I’ve gotten enough of that in my life.”
    “I’m not making fun of you.” Darius got of bed and came over to her, gloriously naked.
    She would not be swayed by a majestic penis. She just wouldn’t.
    “Look, I’m leaving in three days. I don’t see why we can’t spend some time together, talking, laughing, and yes, having sex.”
    “As long as I don’t talk about being a witch.”
    He winced before he covered it up. “We can talk about whatever you want,” he said, in a voice that made her want to rip his face off with an ice pick.
    “No, I’m good. Thanks.” Abby pulled her sweater on without her bra, which she stuffed into her purse. “Let me know if you ever change your mind about selling the house. Best of luck to you.”
    She grabbed her coat and left.
    It wasn’t until she stepped outside into the blustery cold and realized that he had driven her here that she started crying, tears of pure frustration.
    “Abby!”
    In disbelief, she half-turned. Darius was in the doorway of the motel room, completely naked still.
    “What the hell are you doing? You’re naked!”
    “And you don’t have a ride. Come one, don’t leave like this.”
    “I’m calling a cab. It’s no big deal. Go back inside before something important gets frostbite.” She started walking towards the motel office, figuring she could sit in there until a cab or one of her sisters could come and get her.
    “Abby!”
    She turned. Jesus. He was following her. Naked. In the snow. With no shoes on. She stopped in front of the office. Darius stopped next to the giant inflatable snowman the motel had put for a little holiday cheer. His snowman sign said Santa Stop. With a very muscular, very