Page 34 of Resist

He sunk into the leather with a thud, and I couldn’t help but lock my eyes onto his arms as they bore the brunt of his lowering body.

Strong. Flexed. Tanned. Veins popped where veins should pop, and muscles tensed where muscles should tense.

Lucas had worker’s arms. Arms that lifted shit. Arms that could wrap around your body, hold you, and make you feel safe and loved and …

“I’m sorry, what?” I said, diverting my gaze to his.

“I asked if you slept well.”

“Um… yes.” I tucked the sheets of paper into my handbag and pulled out my iPad. “I think so.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. I dreamed, and that’s a good sign of deep sleep.”

“You’re right, it is. So what did you dream about?

My cheeks burned at the memory. “Oh, nothing.”

Two deep dips appeared on either side of his mouth, his smile grand, and I swear he knew exactly what I’d dreamed about. “Did you know that your dreams are an extension of your consciousness?” he said.

My eyebrows rose. “They are?”

“Yep. They’re the bi-product of our emotions when awake.”

His unexpected knowledge of sleeping habits annoyed me. “How do you know that?”

“After Dad died, I had a lot of nightmares. So did my sisters but not as vividly as me. Mum enrolled us in a sleep school, and we were taught to ‘control’ our dreaming with various techniques.”

“Oh.” My annoyance melted quicker than snow on a sunny day. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been awful. The nightmares, I mean, at such a young age.”

“Yeah, it was. But sleep school helped.”

“A bet that was a relief.”

“It was.” Lucas angled his body to face me. “So tell me what your dream was about. Maybe I can help you figure out the connection to your emotions so that you can lead into better sleep.”

The idea of sleeping better was truly enticing, but definitely not at the expense of revealing my against-the-wall-Lucas’s-head-between-my-legs subconscious fantasy.

“It was about … er … eating ice cream I shouldn’t eat,” I blurted out.What the shit?

His eyes bulged, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

“It was triple chocolate, choc chip, choc fudge,” I added, hoping the extra information would help validate my lie.

“Why shouldn’t you eat that?”

“Because it was too … indulgent.” I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Hm….” Lucas rubbed his finger and thumb along the sides of his chin. “Food in dreams normally indicates hunger; that you want something in your waking life that you desire.”Oh, fuck me laughing. I’m sitting next to Sigmund Freud.

“Food is a symbol of life and nourishment, so in your case, the ice cream is … what did you say … indulgent?”

“Yes,” I choked out.

“But you’re still eating it?”

I nodded but avoided eye contact.