Page 66 of The Cowboy's Country Charm

Still feeding her kisses, he moved them to the bed and gently laid her on top of the soft quilt. He slipped in beside her, and she cuddled close, squeezing against his hard hot body.

“Is that a pistol in your pocket, or are you just glad to be here?” she murmured, feeling like she’d been drugged.

“I want to make love to you, Kristy. All night long.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. Then her neck. Then her collar bone. Spikey tingles seared through her body and she moaned. It had been a long time since she’d felt wanted, desired, loved.

“All night,” he said again.

She was exhausted from a night of wonderful, glorious sex, but even in a deep sleep, she heard sounds. Calling. Mutterings. And then yelling.

She bolted upright and glanced at Rusty. In the moonlight streaming in the window, she could see that though his eyes were closed, his face was contorted as he called out.

“Don’t… don’t.” His arm landed against her side, and a sharp jolt went through her body. She grabbed where the blow had landed, though any sensation had left.

By then he was awake, sitting up, blinking away the sleep.

“Are you okay?” she asked, unsure of what had just occurred.

“Did I hurt you?” He glanced at where she was holding her side.

“Just surprised me. Was it a nightmare?”

He sank back down onto the bed without answering her.

“You were asleep but calling out, and then your arm slammed into my side.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“What happened?” She wanted to know, wanted to understand what had caused him such turmoil in the middle of the night.

He sighed. “I get these nightmares from time to time. Haven’t had one in a few weeks. Was hoping they were gone.” He rubbed his eyes.

“It sounded pretty intense.” Something was troubling him, and she wanted to know what it was. “Is it always the same nightmare?”

“Pretty much.”

From her limited knowledge, that wasn’t good. “Tell me about it.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s my issue.”

“As of tonight, it’s my issue.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Especially if we are going to do this again. I need to be prepared. Maybe with bumper guards.”

He snorted. “It’s just nightmares I get sometimes. Do you really need to know?”

“I do.”

He shifted on his side to face her. “It’s not like it’s a horror movie or anything.”

“Tell me.”

He sighed. “In it, something is happening to someone.” He talked slowly, his voice still coated in sleep. “Mostly they’re drowning, but sometimes they’re sinking in quicksand or getting buried alive. I try to save them. I pull and pull and pull, and they don’t budge, and I don’t have enough strength to keep pulling them.”

He paused. She waited.

“Sometimes there’s a helicopter hovering overhead and the wind from the blades causes me to lose my grip. Sometimes it’s muddy and they’re too slippery to get hold of.” He said it matter of factly, but she sensed this was not something he shrugged off.

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