He was definitely having more trouble with his self-control. But Gabby’s halo was still rosy and just starting to streak a little gold. And he wanted her with him. “I wasn’t in love with Gabby in the beginning,” he said, panting but trying to keep his mind clear. “Though I told her I loved her, of course.”

“You lied to her? Why did you do that?”

“Had to,” he said. “Gabby is a romantic. I knew she’d fall for it if I told her that I fell in love at first sight. You know, sweetheart, I’m not sure I can keep this up much longer. In many senses of the word.” He was appalled to hear himself giggle again. “Perhaps I got drunk before going to bed,” he murmured. “Maybe I died while drunk. Too much champagne …”

Dream Gabby’s shoulders were tense, and her halo looked more blazing red than dreamy gold. “I think we should talk a little more about the lies you told me,” she said accusingly.

“I’d rather not,” Quill said with great patience. “And this is my dream.” He shrugged to himself. After all, she was only a creation of his imagination. He slipped his hands under her body and caressed her breasts. She panted, little ladylike pants.

“You’re rather wonderful, Gabby o’ my Dreams,” Quill murmured. He was having trouble talking. But he wanted to hold on to the moment—to the dream. His dream wife was inexpertly moving against him. “Although you’re just as clumsy as my wife,” he told her.

“Be still,” he growled, and he grabbed her hips so hard that his fingers left white marks. He thrust forward hard. He let himself get swept away. She gave a faint scream, and little gold flames jumped from her body.

He closed his eyes at the end, afraid that she would blind him, his angel wife.

Chapter 24

QUILL WOKE UP with a raging thirst and a most unpleasant taste in his mouth. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, walked to the table, and poured a glass of water. In mid-gulp, the details of his dream flooded back into his mind. He paused for a second and then grinned in silent appreciation of his own imagination. No wonder he was so thirsty. He poured another glass of water and savored it like fine wine.

Just as he finished drinking, he heard a rustle in the bed and turned around. Gabby was sitting up, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. “Good morning,” Quill said, with a faint pulse of guilt. It would be a rare day when he could give his wife as much pleasure as he had given his dream Gabby.

“You don’t have a migraine!”