SUSAN MCMILLAN
He rose and shed the raincoat. Heat ballooned in her very center as she looked at his naked body. He gathered her close and when she looked down, she realized she was naked, too. Her nipples hardened against his chest. Then he cupped one breast, his thumb stroking the tender bud.
"It's time for soup, Susan."
Huh? The dream faded, but she still heard Ross' voice.
"Soup. Chicken soup."
Her eyes fluttered open. "Ross?"
"You've been asleep all afternoon. I thought you'd like some soup.
And you need to take more medicine."
She sat up. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. And her chest felt heavy and clogged. Before she could ask Ross what the hell he was doing in her bedroom, she sneezed. Hard. Fortunately for Ross, he stood on the other side of the nightstand preparing a cup of Nyquil. Susan grabbed the tissue box nestled among the bedcovers and wiped her nose.
She refused to look at Ross. "You bring out the gross in me, you know that?"
