Man of My Dreams (2 page)

I break free of my motionless trance, turning to accompany him inside but then I’m nearly knocked over by one of his teammates, shoving his way through the crowd into the kitchen yelling, “Where’s the keg?”

I regain my footing, but Noah is no longer by my side. I look around frantically, afraid that I’ve imagined those amazing seconds. He said two words to me and I feel like they were a marriage proposal. It’s a start, no? He hasn’t said anything like that to me—ever. Maybe tonight he’s feeling the same sense of urgency to get things off his chest as I am.

In a whoosh of hopefulness my crush-sick mind envisions a first kiss, a long distance relationship, and a happily ever after.

“You are one pathetic chick, Mia Page.”

“I know,”
I answer my inner thoughts.

But the voice is so vivid. Come to think of it, it sounds a lot like Grace’s. “Seriously, Mia. Snap out of it! You’re practically drooling over him. Way to play it cool.” Grace biffs me off the back of the head, bringing me out of my Noah-induced stupor.

“Where were you ten seconds ago, Grace? He called me beautiful! You missed the whole thing.” I can’t even hide my excitement, not even if I tried, which I’m not.

“Okay, so you’re not invisible, but calm down. That doesn’t exactly mean he’s yours forever,” she says with a condescending truth.

“I know, Grace. I know, but it’s something. I just have this feeling. I don’t know, but I think tonight is the night.” I grab Grace’s hands and half-successfully resist the urge to jump up and down. He said I was beautiful and that tiny phrase resembles a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, if given the opportunity, Noah will act on his earlier affirmation.

But my ridiculous
feeling
turns out to be nothing, after all.

For the rest of the night I watch Noah—from a distance. He’s surrounded by his buddies and chatting it up with the more outspoken, flirty girls. I’m so damn close, this is my last shot and I’m blowing it. Maybe I should make my way over to him and twirl my hair and lean all over him the way Lila does. But I can’t even scrounge up the nerve to get into the same room as him, let alone beg him to whisper those sweet words into my ear again. Why can’t I just tell him? Come clean, make the first, well in this case the last, move. It doesn’t matter. The night is nearly over. And I’m on the unavoidable verge of living in regret for all of eternity.

By the time the party’s over, Noah is nowhere to be found.

Grace appears next to me with a stack of used Solo cups and crumpled napkins, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mia. I know this is not how you wanted this night to go. But maybe it’s for the best. You’ll probably never see him again, anyway.”

“Oh, Noah…” I moan against his mouth. My lips are swollen from his rough, breathtaking kisses. I savor every inch of his body, as it glides over me—and into me—so powerfully. My nails dig into the glistening skin on his back with each invigorating thrust.

“You like it rough, don’t you, Mia?” his warm breath lingers at my ear, tickling and electrifying every nerve ending.

I answer him with my body, arching to meet him in uncontrolled passion. The rawness of his words carries me to unknown heights. What the hell is it about him? This unwavering feeling that I just can’t get enough. I still can’t get enough and I’m sure I never will.

I wrap my legs around his body, pulling him closer and giving me the leverage to position myself on top of him. When I’m nose to nose with him again, I lick his lips and then bite the plumpness, tugging gently. I place an unsteady hand on his smooth chest and push him down so that I am now in control, peering down at him. I love what I see. Same Noah, just better. His sandy blond waves are neatly trimmed now, shorter than in high school. Instead of a growing boy’s maturing physique, he is all man; sculpted and strong. Sinewy biceps, deltoids and other muscles I never knew could be so defined. And those goddamn eyes—magnetic; pulling me in to their jade green stare.

“You feel so good, baby. So damn good.” His throaty groan ignites a fire in my already heated body, stimulating me to move faster, meeting his bucking hips. My release builds inside of me like a violent, spinning tornado. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.

“Shhh, baby, they’ll hear you.” His skillful hands are at my mouth now, muffling the loud cries that are dying to escape.

Who?
I think to myself.
Who will hear?
I honestly couldn’t care less.

He tilts me, lowering me back down on the bed again. I writhe underneath him, staring into his captivating eyes. It’s amazing how they have always had a way of piercing right through me. Right through to my very core. It’s okay though because he’s mine now. I’m allowed to bare my soul to him, to abandon all the adolescent angst.

“I love you, beautiful. Oh my God, I fucking love you.” his voice is unsteady. I know he’s almost there.

With one more commanding thrust, matched by his, the intensity builds, the beautiful conclusion of the both of us coming apart in each other’s arms. And just as I am about to scream out how much I love him too, moan out his name…

“Mommy! Mommy! We’re hungry. Get up!”

Mommy?

With reluctance, I flutter my eyes open slowly and come face to face with a blond haired, blue-eyed angel.

“Mommy, me and Charlie want waffles and she needs you to wipe her butt. She just did poo.”

And there it is…hello reality. Little girls, ass wiping and breakfast at…
six forty five!
“Girls, are you joking? We need to go back to bed for a little while, Mommy’s tired.”
And she was just about to get off to her high school crush.

“No! We not tired anymore,” yells Charlie from the bathroom.

“Well I am! Cara, go wipe your sister’s butt, please, please, please, do Mommy this favor?” Great, I’ve resorted to begging. I pull the covers over my head and let out an exaggerated, frustrated huff of air. I hear giggling on the outside of my cocoon. I peek out unwillingly.

“You like a cranky bear, Mommy. Like in the Goldilocks book.”

“Yeah, well, bears are cranky when they’re woken up from their hibernation.”
And even more cranky when woken up from a steamy sex dream.

“I done, I done, I done!” Charlie chants impatiently.

I curse Declan and his business trip as I drag myself out of the bed, hobble into the bathroom, and complete the first ass-wiping of the day. After washing my hands and splashing some water on my face, I look at my daughters and am taken aback by the looks on their faces.

“What? What are you looking at?”

The little devils eye me with identical dancing, glacier-blue-eyes.

Charlie just points, giggling, while Cara rolls her eyes and says, “Your hair!”

I turn to the mirror and gasp at my reflection. “Wow, I really
do
look like a bear. Sorry girls, crazy dream.”
Yeah, crazy and wonderful, and you pains in the asses woke me from it.

“You’re still beautiful, Mommy, don’t worry.” Cara hugs my leg.

“Yeah, you bo-oo-ful,” Charlie agrees, hugging my other leg.

“Not quite as beautiful as either of you angels. Now, let me brush up and then we’ll go down for breakfast. Meet ya down in five?” I tap them on their freshly wiped butts and nudge them off.

“Okay,” their voices already trailing off, “we set the table.”

“Okay, girls, thanks lots.”

I grab my phone, ignoring the early hour. Grace insisted I text her the next time I had the dream. So I do.

Again! 2 in 1 month. What the hell is wrong with me?

What the hell
is
wrong with me? For the past ten years, at least once every few months, I have dreamt about hot, steamy, glorious sex with Noah. Where our hands roam each other’s bodies, leaving no flesh untouched. Where he claims me as his own and I let him wrap his arms around me and tell me how much he loves me.

But I digress.

That is
not
my life. And it’s not that I object. I’m happy. I’m in love. I have a great life. Okay, fine, I’m
semi
-happy, with my
semi
-eventful life. I know I shouldn’t be so ungrateful; there are people out there who would give a right arm for my life, but it’s just so…
ordinary
.

Grace’s text interrupts my recurring thoughts.

Hot and steamy again? Did you…?

I waste no time texting back.

Nope! Not this time :( Woken too soon!

An unexpected heat pulses through me, reminding me of what I was ripped away from. Grace breaks me free of that fantasy too.

Don’t worry. Declan will be home soon. LOL

She’s right. And I plan to plop the kids right off at their Nana’s so that I can jump his bones. Is it crazy that thinking of sex with another man makes me want to jump my husband’s bones? Something’s wrong with me.

I wash my face again, needing the cold sensation. “There’s nothing wrong with you. It was just a dream,” I reassure my reflection, wishing I actually believed it.

I would believe it, if it weren’t happening so damn frequently. I have no reason for these subliminal messages to be intruding my dreams. I haven’t even had contact with Noah since…See? I can’t even remember the last time.

Besides, Declan is a good man, a
hot
man. Damn great…at least, it is when we actually manage to find time for sex. When the kids aren’t lodged in between us in our bed, or when he isn’t away on business. It isn’t the glamorous life he’d promised me when he proposed to me in college, but almost five years of marriage and two kids will do that to you. The monotony of reality will suck the glamour right out of any desperate housewife’s life.

It’s not that the effort isn’t there. I try every chance I can to get a piece of my husband. Declan is gorgeous. Tall, broad, and muscular. Jet black hair that sometimes falls casually against his forehead and crystal-blue eyes to match the ones he’d given his daughters. He’s a catch and I’m reminded of that, often. I’ve even gotten used to being asked by former co-workers or PTA moms how I managed to land such a stud. Yup, I’ve been asked that.
Multiple
times. It doesn’t bother me anymore. But on occasion, when I don’t like the way the person is eyeing my man, I’ll tell them it’s my kinky bedroom skills that won him over.

As if his incredible looks weren’t enough, the man has a heart of gold. Compassionate, attentive, and loving, he stole my heart on our very first date. And every day, I’m reminded of how lucky I am when I see what a good father he is to our girls. Although I hate to admit it, sometimes I get upset that those little rascals absorb a lot of the love that was once focused solely on me. I never thought I’d be jealous of my own daughters, but there are times when I secretly wish that I could have him as wrapped around my pinky as Cara and Charlie do.

I smile at my tired reflection in the mirror, realizing that I am in desperate need of a revamping before my hottie comes home tonight. Maybe an impromptu blow-out and a mani-pedi with the girls? Of course, that’s if they feel like cooperating. As I think about my day of pampering, I’m suddenly eager to be wrapped in Declan’s arms. Tonight can’t come quick enough.

“Moooommmmmyyyyy.”

“I’m coming, ladies.” I grumble and whine the whole way downstairs as I am suddenly reminded of the fact that it’s not even seven in the morning. I’m not prepared. I didn’t have enough sleep for this. The breakfast mess, the midmorning snack mess, followed by the lunch mess, the after-lunch snack mess and the dinner mess. The fact that all my kids do is graze like cattle throughout the day is physically, mentally and monetarily exhausting.

I walk into the kitchen, see the girls’ mismatched table setting and smile. And just like every other day, all the disgruntlement melts away. “You girls did such a nice job!” Then I do my best impression of a grizzly bear, “But where’s my breakfast? I’m hungry!” I lunge at them with makeshift claws, roaring and chomping in their directions.

They run around the circular kitchen table while I chase them, their messy blond curls flying in the wind, their contagious laughter echoing throughout the house. “Stop, Mommy, stop! Don’t eat us!”

I catch Charlie, and lift up her pajama top to reveal her squishy belly. She wriggles beneath my kisses, squealing.

“You look yummy, little girl. Just one bite?” I growl.

“No, no! Pwease! Stop!”

Cara throws an arm in front of my mouth, “Wait! I bigger, bite me, not baby Charlotte. She won’t taste good—she only eats waffles and cheese!”

I stop mid bear-bite and gawk at Cara. “Sweetie, that was so nice. You were willing to be eaten to save your baby sister?”

Charlie takes advantage of the diversion and weasels her way off my lap, hiding behind her big sister.

“Duh! I have to befend her.”

Was I just duhhed by my three and a half year old?
I smirk at her adorable mistake, “Defend, baby, with a
D
. But you’re right. You are the best big sister any girl could ask for. Right, Charlie?”