Play Doctor: Dream Machine Part 12

"Are you sure she's ready for this? Can she handle it?"

"Yes. She can take anything I'd ask of her." The confidence and pride he felt colored his declaration but he didn't care. Kurt shared everything with Luke. They were closer than brothers.

"How are you holding up? You sound...different. Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No. I'm just thinking about the session today. I won't force her to remember, Luke."

"Not even if it means throwing away several years of research?" his friend asked with quiet patience. Luke knew how much was at stake.

"That doesn't matter to me right now." Kurt chuckled. "But I did stack the deck in my favor. I've made sure there are context clues. The place, the clothes, everything I could think of. I want to make it good for her."

"Of course." Luke's smile came through in the tone of his voice. "Well then, what are you doing wasting time talking to me?"

"Good point."

"I'll call the meeting for 10 a.m. day after tomorrow. Be ready."

"We will be."

The familiar comfort of Dr. Foster's office embraced Rebecca. When she'd first started working at the clinic, the raw masculinity of his s.p.a.ce and the sheer heft of the furniture had intimidated her. Now, though, the sanctuary seemed st.u.r.dy and safe, not at all overwhelming. She breathed deep for the first time in days, inhaling the calming spice of his cologne along with the musk of leather-bound medical tomes. By his absence, she deduced he intended to keep her waiting. Disappointed, each cell of her body throbbed. If he'd hurry up and start the day's events, she could steal one d.a.m.n modic.u.m of relief. The flare of Rebecca's temper startled her. She couldn't contain the mood swings zooming through her anymore. s.e.xual frustration was driving her insane. No man had ever made her want to do the things she craved now.

Wasn't that the point of volunteering? Her laughter held a bitter edge. Her plan might have worked a little too well. She could definitely identify with the cases she'd worked involving people unable to obtain the fulfillment they craved. The resulting hunger made her irritable.

Pacing around the room, memories bombarded her-Kurt in this office, taking care of patients, working case files, teaching her everything she knew and researching new theories. She smiled when her finger trailed over the spine of the book she'd given him for Christmas last year. It was prominently displayed on his shelf.

She lingered for a moment, considering the place of honor among all his other texts before continuing her circuit.

Her gaze snagged on the chaise lounge near the back of the room. She stumbled as she remembered the way he'd touched her there when he'd accepted her for the experiment and changed her life forever. Had it really only been three days ago? Her insides quaked.

Desire erupted again when she heard the door open behind her. She smelled the rich scent of Kurt's soap before she pivoted to take in his damp hair falling in slim clumps over his forehead. He looked magnificent striding toward her in dark slacks and a dove grey pullover sweater. She thought the choice odd for the middle of summer but she recognized it as his favorite. The V-neck dipped, exposing his corded throat, while the supple fabric hugged his defined chest and shoulders. The garment made him look like a powerful animal as he stalked toward her.

The rose silk robe he'd laid out for her, while beautiful, left her decidedly underdressed.

"Lie down on the chaise, Becca," he ordered without preamble as he neared. When she didn't move fast enough to suit him, he pressed his hand on her shoulder until she sank onto the sofa. Situating a slick leather wingback within arm's reach, Dr. Foster settled in beside her.

"Today we need to discuss the dreams you experienced last night." Kurt began the formal process. If he didn't follow the book to the letter to start with, he would never make it through this session. They needed to stick with procedure for the sake of the trial but he would have anyway, to ensure he didn't harm Becca by exposing her to desires her conscious mind wasn't yet ready to admit to.

"The next stage of the study involves comparing your recollections to the images captured by the Dream Machine. By doing so, we can prove the scenes recorded are your actual dreams." He had no doubt of it but the board required verification.

"For the board to be satisfied with the accuracy of the Dream Machine, I need you to independently corroborate any dreams you remember having last night." If she got any tenser, he feared she would shatter. He regretted having been so harsh with her earlier but she had to understand he'd thrust her away because it had been the only way to keep himself from taking her right then and invalidating the study. Didn't she?

"I've reviewed all six of the REM stages you experienced last night but I won't reveal anything you can't recall on your own. As you know, dreams are an outlet for your subconscious. You may not be ready to face all you dreamed of. I won't breech the internal safeguard your mind has put in place. Therefore, I need you to tell me what you remember."

It was now or never.

"What did you dream about last night, Becca?"

Kurt didn't know what he would do if she had no memory of the fantasies he'd witnessed in the recorded files this morning. At the limits of his control, he prayed for the strength to walk away if she required his patience. They desired the same things but he wouldn't force her. The urgency tearing at his guts caused his voice to rasp out harsher than he intended.

"Concentrate."

He braced himself as though he headed into a fight instead of a session, determined to bring them both through it in one piece.

Rebecca closed her eyes against the stern look on Kurt's face. She drew on all the mental tricks she knew to quiet her psyche. She couldn't bear to disappoint him. Thinking back to the moment she'd awakened this morning, she tried to hone in on the hazy images that had lingered when she first opened her eyes. Flashes of the events just after waking distracted her. The decadent sight of Kurt touching himself had driven all other thoughts from her mind.

"I can't remember any dreams," she confessed. "I'm sorry, Dr. Foster."

"Don't strain so much. Let your mind relax." His fingers tracked over her furrowed brow, smoothing the tension, before he retreated. The profound silence overflowed with his will for her to remember.

His hushed support comforted her. She could almost wrap it around her like a security blanket. Settling into the sofa, she let her consciousness drift. The barest hint of something came to her.

Rebecca's mind turned toward the flicker of remembrance but, like a reflection or a wisp of smoke, it dissipated when she strove to bring it into focus.

"Try again. Don't attempt to remember the whole thing at once. Start small. This will be the hardest step.

You've trained yourself to hide your desires and suppress your needs for so long it's become ingrained. It's okay to remember."

The verbal equivalent of holding her hand, his words promised to lead her down a path in the pitch dark.

Lost, faltering, all she had to decide was if she trusted him to steer her safely, guaranteeing she didn't get hurt.

"I'm right here. Let go."

She believed his whispered promise.

"Do you remember any colors? Scents? Sounds?"

Sounds? In her mind, she heard a husky, guttural moan. Embarra.s.sed, she angled her head away. Kurt pounced on her slight reaction.

"No, Becca. Don't withhold anything from me. Complete honesty, remember?" He surrounded her hand with his.

"I...I heard a moan." Far away, her face heated.

"Good girl. What else?" The lightest stroke of his hand on hers mesmerized her. His fingertips painted a hypnotic, swirling path over her skin. The sensation made it easier to open her awareness to the brief impressions circling the edges of her consciousness.

"Warmth. It was hot." The burst of Kurt's exhaled breath landed on her cheek.

"Yes. That's good."

Something tickled her memory but she didn't know quite how to voice the emotion.

"Keep going. Don't think, just let it out."

"I felt...protected."

Kurt's hand squeezed hers, bringing the impression she attempted to describe into better clarity. Gaining momentum, her mind recalled more and more details. A faint picture formed in her mind.

"I was inside, a room, someplace I know."

She heard his approval in the satisfied sound he made but he didn't interrupt. On the right track, he left it to her to remember.

"G.o.d, you're so close." His barely audible whisper made her wonder if he'd meant her to hear it at all. He sat statue still as though afraid to breathe for fear of breaking her concentration.

And then, abruptly, it was there. Similar to detecting the trick in an optical illusion, once she saw it, there was no going back.

She remembered the place, the scent, the colors, the textures and the sensations though they stayed a bit hazy and ethereal like most dreams. She tensed, wondering if the scene playing in her mind now had inspired Kurt to action this morning.

"You remember."

"Yes." She choked on the weak, thready sound.

"You have to tell me, Becca. Say the words," he commanded her, leaving no room to waffle or escape.

Her eyes opened. The truth made it impossible to glance away from his penetrating stare.

"I dreamt you f.u.c.ked me on your desk."

With those words, something inside Kurt tore loose. He dropped to his knees and kissed her viciously, need pouring out of him. His hands tangled in her hair. He clasped her to him.

"Yes, you did." Hands trembling, he separated them just far enough to search her emerald eyes. He had to be sure. "Becca, you know what this means?"

She looked dazed by the intensity of the recalled dream. He knew how powerful it had been. Bold enough, clear enough, he hadn't been able to stop himself from jerking off while he watched it. Trying to temper his reactions, not to mention his aggressive kiss, he sat on his heels.

She shook her head in confusion. "It means I want you. You have to know that after the way I've acted the last few days."

A pretty blush tinted her cheeks but he chose to be blunt.

"No. It means I need to take you." He growled against her throat as he licked and bit a trail down the side of her neck. He couldn't help himself.

"W-what?" Kurt heard the disbelief in her question as her brain tried to process what her body already accepted. She leaned forward, closing the gap he'd tried to create but her voice wavered, unsure of his meaning.

"Stop. I can't think when you're doing that."

She was right. He drew on a hidden reservoir of restraint, battling the instincts encouraging him to steal the pleasures within his grasp. d.a.m.n it, she'd started s.h.i.+vering so hard her teeth clicked together. He had to slow down.

"It's not enough to establish that the Dream Machine records your dreams. For it to be useful, we have to demonstrate how it can aid patients in uncovering their latent desires. I need to test the theory that the subject of your dreams makes you respond more intensely than other stimuli."

The explanation poured out without thought. He'd considered the feasibility of the process for close to a year before he'd pitched the idea to the review board. Persuading the more conservative members had taken months, and a lot of fast-talking, but he'd finally convinced them to sponsor his research behind the nontraditional invention. In the end, he suspected they'd only agreed because they believed the idea outlandish and impossible.

In fact, once he'd completed the prototype, more than two years from his first conception, he hadn't bothered pitching a human trial to the board. He and Luke had concurred the machine would never become a reality. They'd never have let him test it. Until the break-in. Until that a.s.shole, James Wexford, revealed what a perfect setup they had. They'd grant Becca what she desired most and the role posed no hards.h.i.+p to him.

Now, Luke gathered support for the initial findings even as they created this shred of evidence.

Along the way, the experiment had become secondary to his personal journey but the academic camber of his speech penetrated her shock and denial.

"Take me?" This time disbelief, not confusion, tinged the words.

"Baby, I need to prove f.u.c.king me makes you hotter than things you haven't dreamed about." Kurt steeled himself to make her comprehend the ramifications of the situation. If he took this step now, without her complete understanding, she might resent him later. He couldn't stand the thought.

Becca curled up on the sofa, drawing her knees to her chest. She looked him straight in the eye. He hadn't realized the level of confidence he had in her answer until she stunned him.

"No."

Kurt observed her quaking beneath the force of her cravings. Her reluctance baffled him. "Why not?

What's wrong?"

"I won't make you f.u.c.k me." She cringed but didn't blink. Her eyes had to sting from holding back the unshed tears turning them gla.s.sy. Her rigid self-control, stubborn pride and independence wouldn't allow her to cry in front of anyone, never mind taking advantage of any comfort they might offer.

Nothing could have perplexed him more. "Make me f.u.c.k you?" he asked incredulously.

"I know you don't want me that way. I'm sorry I keep putting you in this position. I won't let you do this for the sake of an experiment. I won't let either of us be cheapened, getting it on just to prove the machine works. There has to be some other way."

A single tear trickled over the side of her face. It hit him in the gut with the impact of a baseball bat. Her delicate hands attempted to shutter her reaction from him. She couldn't contain the tears overflowing her fingers, though. To Kurt, she looked lost and broken like patients he'd seen suffering from the most tragic wounds.

Overwhelmed, she sat paralyzed in a ball on his couch in direct contrast to her usual fighting spirit.

Only her pure agony kept him from laughing.

"Becca, I don't know how you got this crazy idea. Would you look at me?" With one hand, he tugged her damp fingers from her high cheekbone while the other grabbed his crotch. His straining c.o.c.k mashed against the zipper of his pants. The bulge testified to his l.u.s.t as though he hadn't had an amazing b.l.o.w.j.o.b less than an hour ago.

"You're a healthy man. It's natural for you to get turned on by discussing s.e.xual fantasies. That doesn't mean you want me. I've thrown myself at you several times, including this morning, and you've pushed me away on every occasion. You made it clear you aren't interested. I'm sorry. This has to be uncomfortable for you. I'm sorry I dreamt-"

"Stop it!" Wrapping his fingers around her ankles on the sofa, he shook her. "Stop apologizing. Listen to me. I want nothing more than to act out your dream right now." Kurt couldn't reason with the need raging inside him, distracting him.

"I understand. The study is important to you." Her flat eyes focused on his hands clenched around her fine bones.

He refused to let her use the excuse of responsibility or duty to navigate this monumental juncture. She had to take him without pretense or, as much as it pained him, he couldn't have her.

"You are important to me, Becca." He snaked his arm around her waist then tugged her closer until they touched. The heat of her abdomen seeped through the seductive silk she'd dreamed of and into his chest as he spread her legs around him.

He thought back to her earlier words, when she'd begun to remember the first dream. I felt...protected. She had no idea the gift she'd given him. Better than any lascivious caress, knowing he gave her a sense of security pleased him. It also went a long way toward soothing his conscience for smas.h.i.+ng the last of her resistance.

He reached up and cupped her face in his hands. "I want to satisfy you. I need to make your dream come true." He swiped a tear from her cheek with the back of his finger.

Kurt studied the drop of moisture as it dangled from his knuckle before licking it off.

Chapter Twelve.