“No, that wasn’t what I meant,” he said. His hands wandered over to clasp her bottom. He made a little experimental thrust upward. Yes, his legs seemed to be regaining strength. “I had to marry her because Peter wouldn’t do it. Peter is my brother. Do you think that I could try having you underneath me now?” he added.

Dream Gabby didn’t protest, so he rolled her over in slow motion. It took so much effort that he just lay on top of her for a moment. Luckily he didn’t have to worry about whether he was squashing all the air out of her, because she was just a dream. It felt uncommonly good.

Except that she was still asking pesky questions.

“Peter thought she was fat and clumsy,” he explained. “I told him he should do it anyway, because my wife is an heiress, you know. I don’t need money, but Peter does.” He had his face tucked into her neck, so he couldn’t see her expression. But she started to wiggle under him in a way that told him that dream women reacted similarly to real women when called plump and clumsy.

“I didn’t agree with him.” He raised his head with a great effort. “I thought she had a luscious body, right from the start.” He didn’t want his dream wife to leave in a huff. Not when things were going so well.

She seemed a little more relaxed and even opened her lips to his. They kissed until Dream Gabby’s halo had more gold in it than red. Quill closed his eyes again and let his head fall onto her shoulder. “I can’t do everything at once,” he said in a cheerfully complaining way. “I’m awfully tired. But this is quite the best dream I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t want you to think that I’m being unreasonable.”

“What did you mean by saying that you weren’t in love?”

Only one part of Quill’s body was fully awake. “I’d like to be inside you now, Gabby my girl. Do you think you could take care of it?”

Dream Gabby seemed as unprepared in these matters as his real wife. She fumbled about with her little hands until she finally guided him to the spot. Quill gathered all his strength and plunged in. Sweat broke out on his back.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Dream or no dream, you feel better than any woman I’ve ever been with—except the real Gabby, of course. You feel the same as her,” he said thoughtfully, “and she’s the very best.”

Dream Gabby looked a little happier. “Quill, would you like me to move?” she asked. Then she looked as if she remembered something. “Actually, dream women can’t do the moving,” she said silkily. She walked her fingers down his spine.