“Let’s just lie here for a moment,” he suggested. He let his eyelids close again. The most active part of his body was sending all kinds of angry signals his way. He managed to thrust forward a few times, just enough to turn his dream wife’s halo practically gold. Then he slumped again.

Now she was running her fingers all over his back and kissing his shoulder. “I would really like to know what you meant about not being in love,” she coaxed, running a hand between their bodies.

“When you do that, I can deny you nothing,” Quill said grandly. What she was doing sent a surge of energy through his body, and he found himself on his knees, actually making love in a seminormal fashion. With each stroke, Dream Gabby’s halo grew more and more golden. Quill watched in fascination. She had her head arched back, eyes closed, and little guttural moans broke from her mouth each time he thrust into her.

He was still caught in the slow web of his dream, so he had far more rational control than he would have had in normal life, with real Gabby. By now he would have been completely lost. But since it was a dream, part of his mind was just lazily observing what was happening. He slipped his hands under Gabby’s hips and pulled her up a few inches. She started shrieking, and sparks flew off her body in all directions. He thrust into her again and again, feeling the delicious tightening deep inside her and the way her fingers were clutching his shoulders. And then she literally turned into a blaze of light.

“Damn,” Quill said quietly. “I’m making love to an angel. This is quite a dream. Or else I am in heaven.”

Dream Gabby’s hair was damp, and curls were stuck to her forehead. But she opened her eyes, her beautiful eyes, and looked at him. “I’m not an angel,” she whispered.

“Next thing to it,” Quill remarked. “After all, you’re the one with the halo.” He was still deep inside her. He decided to try another experiment, now that he had regained a fair amount of strength. Not to mention self-control.

Deftly, he turned her over on her knees and sank deep inside again. Her protests had a hysterical edge that reminded him of the real Gabby’s. “This is my dream,” he had to remind her. “Many women love this position. You will too. That is, if I dream about you again.” A little twinge of guilt colored his statement. He didn’t want the dream to be too good. It wouldn’t be loyal to Gabby.