Squirming on the bed, Brooke began to register the possessive grip on her thighs and aggressive kisses being peppered up her belly toward her chest.  Each kiss left a feeling of painful, scorching heat.

She reached above her to grab at the pillow propped under her head desperate for something to brace on.  As her eyes fluttered open, she gazed around hazily at the darkened room.  The environment felt vaguely familiar. 

Curtains were drawn to cover a window to her right.  Heavy winds caused a large tree to sway at its mercy.  The shadows cast on the wall through the opening of the billowing curtains looked like bony fingers with terrifyingly sharp talons.  The air reeked heavily of cigarettes and was thick with unpleasant tension.

The grip on her thighs tightened, eliciting a whimper of pain from a lethargic Brooke. A heavy weight settled over her.  A knee forcefully pushed her legs open. The shadow of darkness hid the person's face from view. Yet the claminess of his skin, the heat of his breath felt very familiar.

Those hands gripping her thighs slid possessively up her sides.  One pushed her top up, the other continued until it rested around her neck. They felt cold against her skin. Harsh kisses and nips made a path up from her hip bone, belly and valley between her breasts. Brooke's breathing sped.  She watched the dark haired person, hoping to see who was touching her so intimately.

"What are you doing?"  Her voice was breathless and laced with fear.

She could feel this person's lips curve into a grin.  A dark chuckle vibrated from his chest that sounded terrifyingly familiar. Brooke began to struggle out from under him.  Hungry kisses and painful suckles continued over her breasts toward her neck.  They dragged dry lips across her jaw and found her ear. After a few heavy breaths, the answer finally came.

"I want..." he growled.  The voice sounded distant, robotic, disembodied. A hand harshly gripped the back of her thigh, forcefully prying them open more.  The weight of his hips pushing onto hers made tears form. "What you always deny me."

Brooke's heart beat frantically, eyes searching for this man's identity as whimpers bubbled from her. They turned to soft sobs when she felt his hard member at her entrance.

"No, no, please!" she begged, thrashing but his weight was too much. 

Cold clammy skin pressed against hers.  Sweat broke out across her skin beading on her forehead. His hips ground down onto hers, brushing the head along her folds.

"You always say no," he growled biting her ear lobe.  "You always push me away!" Rising onto his free hand, his face was illuminated.  Brooke finally saw the menacing face of her nightmares.  "No more!"

In one swift thrust and with a loud, guttural moan from Dorian, a scream of agony from Brooke, he buried his length into her. He hissed as he pulled back part way then groaned.  He thrust back into her dry channel ruthlessly.

This was his rhythm.  This was his pattern of pain.

Burying his face in the crook of her neck, Dorian ignored her tears, ignored her cries of pain and pleas to stop. She was answered by dark chuckles and deep, raspy groans of his pleasure. Desperate for escape, Brooke tried with all her strength to push him off.  It only made him speed up, mumbling his typical "I'm almost done".

"Please, Dorian," Brooke pleaded one last time.  Her hands gripping his biceps, head turned to the side with her eyes pressed closed.

Much to her surprise, he stopped.

The weight of his body remained, his length buried to the hilt inside her. Heavily panting, hot breaths fanned across her bare shoulder. Brooke felt him shift his weight.  She fearfully turned her face, eyes wide with shock. He leaned up enough to lock onto her face.

Fresh tears burned, streaming down her flushed cheeks. Her hazel eyes met ominous dark green. His strong jaw clenched and unclenched.  Terracotta lips evilly tilted into a smirk.  A look of lust full of dark promises.

"I'm not Dorian," the husky baritone delivered. A wave of bitter cold rushed through Brooke's body.

Steadily he retreated his length, a sinister smile replacing the smirk. 

Brooke shook her head fearfully, whimpering, begging him to not continue. She curled her fingers into his biceps, feeling the muscles tense and flex as he rose above her. 

"Please," her lip and voice quivered.  "Lincoln... don't..."

His nostrils flared with his sharp inhale of breath, dark eyes focused on hers.  With another hard thrust, Brooke arched her back and screamed out in pain.

"NOOOO!" Brooke screamed, thrashing until sitting straight up in bed. 

She panted for breath, taking in her surroundings.  The log lined walls, plush beige bed, mountains highlighted by the morning sun. 

"It was a nightmare," she whispered out loud to herself.  "I'm safe."

Pressing her eyes closed, Brooke steadied her breathing until her body stopped shaking.  The nightmares were nothing new. Dorian often haunted her dreams with his aggressive ways but the morphing into Lincoln was new.  It rattled her harder than all of her nightmares of Dorian combined.

As she sat up to leave the bed, a carefully handwritten note on the nightstand caught her attention.

Brooke,

Please do not leave in the morning.  I came back to apologize for my insensitive behavior but you were sleeping. I'm deeply sorry for how I reacted.  Please stay so I can tell you in person.

                Lincoln

After a long, warm shower, Brooke dressed comfortably in black leggings, a loose, long sleeved gray top and a long plaid sleeveless vest that hung to her upper thighs. Draping a blanket around her, Brooke then dipped into her black fuzzy slippers.

The cabin was utterly silent.  Brooke padded from room to room in cautious search of Lincoln.  The light tapping sound akin to tapping on a keyboard drew her attention to a door left ajar.  She hoped the creaking of the wood floor didn't alert him to her spying presence.  After peering inside, Brooke saw Lincoln sitting at a laptop, indeed typing furiously at it.

Deciding to leave him to his work, Brooke padded on to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee.  After her terrifyingly real nightmare, her appetite was gone.  Lincoln would have to take a break from his work soon and surely would go looking for her.  For now, she would sip her coffee while sitting on the four season porch to watch the colors change on the mountains while sketching them.

****

After several hours going between crying, sniffling and sketching, the clinking of glasses alerted Brooke to someone's presence.  Whirling her head around, Brooke saw Lincoln just straightening to his full height after setting down a tray laden with a spread for lunch. 

Two turkey sandwiches with potato chips and apple slices on the side, and two tall glasses of juice summoned a grumble of hunger from Brooke's stomach.  Her heart fluttered at the kind gesture but when her eyes travelled up his pajama clad body and finally met his emerald gems, her heart dropped. Sadness and pity lurked in those depths.

"I uh, took a break from typing up opening statements for one of my court cases," Lincoln explained.  "It's quite a bounty of groceries you brought."

Various fruits and vegetables, bread, chicken tenders, ground beef, lettuce, turkey slices, cheese slices, eggs, turkey bacon and juice among many other groceries, filled up the barren fridge.

Dressed in dark washed jeans and a white t-shirt, the tightly fitting cotton did nothing to hide the dips and planes of his muscular torso.  She pressed her eyes closed, shunning the shadowed memory of the weight on her in the vivid nightmare.  The forceful strength that pinned her down, her fruitless attempts to escape as he...

No! It wasn't real! He's not Dorian!

Brooke had spent the morning desperately trying to convince herself Lincoln would never do what had been done in that nightmare.  She wanted to trust him.  He hadn't done anything to prove he wasn't trustworthy.  It was the shadows of Brooke's past haunting her. 

Even with the years of counseling following her divorce, Brooke was unprepared for the reality of the situation facing intimacy with a man. Her fears of intimacy woven intricately with a fear of rejection and physical pain associated with her past encounters became freshly torn open wounds in the last several weeks.  Wounds reopened by the prospect of new intimate encounters. What if it was her body? What if nothing was different? Thus the constant reminder that the nightmare wasn't real and Lincoln was not Dorian.

Taking cautious steps forward, Lincoln stood in front of the lounge chair Brooke was curled up in.  The sun glowed through the clear glass enclosure that bordered the patio.  It was thick glass to protect from the bitter winters that affect the mountains this far up.  Lincoln wanted to have a porch he could enjoy during any of the four seasons when he visited this personal retreat.

One corner of his lips tilted upward in a smirk as he gazed down at Brooke. She had turned her back to him again. The bright golden sun rays filtered onto her blanket clad body. Her auburn hair would glow if it were loose cascading down her back.  Currently, it was tied on her head in a top knot exposing her neck to his view.

Clearing his throat, Brooke turned her attention back to him, seeing him point to the lounge chair. 

"May I sit?"

Shifting so she could lay on her back, Brooke nodded, retucking her feet under her to leave him room then laid her sketchbook down.  Lincoln sat, side turned to her, eyes downcast.  He rubbed the back of his neck.  Was he nervous? The very notion made Brooke's lips twitch into a brief ghost of a smile. 

A long moment of silence hung heavily in the air leaving Brooke an opportunity to study his features.  His skin glowed in front of the midday sunlight, raven locks shining and calling for her to touch.  His strong jaw was clenched.  He was nervous.  Her eyes floated down his neck to his arms and over the toned tan muscles of those biceps that felt so warm and tender when wrapped around her. Why would a fit, handsome guy like Lincoln want anything to do with a divorced, plus sized, single mom like her? Finally tired of the silence, Brooke sat up, sighed and broke it.

"Lincoln." Emerald eyes immediately flicked over to lock with her hazel ones.

"No, Brooke, wait..." he interjected.  Turning his body to face her, Lincoln tucked one leg under the other.  "I'm sorry for how I reacted last night.  It's not my business how you handle things with your ex.  I'm sure things are... delicate.  Hearing you deny anything happening between us..." His eyes cast down at his nervously twiddling fingers.

"I didn't deny anything happening between us, Lincoln," Brooke replied softly.  She reached out to lay her hand over his.  "He asked if we were f^cking." She smirked at her blatant repeat of the crass wording.  "To which I truthfully answered no.  We haven't."  Pausing, Brooke searched his eyes noticing a steady change toward understanding.  His brows rose and eyes widened.  "Dorian is very possessive.  He would come after me. To get him to back off, I have to sometimes let him think he is winning even if in reality he isn't."

"So you're hiding me?" Lincoln asked, brows tilting downward in hurt.

"No!" Brooke defended, taking his much larger hand in both of hers. "I'm trying to protect you and me.  I'm a divorcee with a mentally unstable ex-husband.  That doesn't exactly scream serious dating material."

Lincoln scoffed then laid his other hand over hers.  "You don't have to protect me. You deserve to move on from him and be happy."

"Yes, I do." Her voice broke as fresh tears glistened their arrival. "Need to protect you."

"No, Brooke," he shook his head slowly.  "You've been the strong one for so long.  It's time to let someone else protect you."

She thought on that for awhile, knowing he was right.  No relationship would ever last if she continued to dance around Dorian's feelings.  He was a dark elephant in the room with her always.  It was time to banish him away.

Furthermore, Brooke knew she had to stop being completely independent.  While independence was not a fault, being so independent the vibe was given she didn't need anyone, was.  That attitude would continue to push people away and isolate her.

In peaceful silence, they ate the sandwiches Lincoln brought.  It wasn't awkward or heavy, simply peaceful.  The trees swayed gently in the breeze.  The sun's glow intensified as it raised to its peak height in a crystal clear sky. After draining the last of her juice, Brooke let out a satisfied sigh.  She set the glass down then leaned back on the chair. A comfortable silence fell over both of them as they simply watched nature.

"My last serious relationship," Lincoln cut through the long hanging silence, eyes focused on their once again layered hands.  "Ended very badly."

Listening to him speak, Brooke glanced down.  The sight of his thumb drawing patterns over the back of her hand was mesmerizing. A sweet smile tugged at her lips. Hazel lifted to meet emerald when he continued a moment later.

"We dated our last year of college and it grew serious.  We both started working in the law firm getting quite busy. Over time, we began growing apart but neither acknowledged it, at least to the other.  I came home one day and found her in our bed with someone else.  What's worse, he was a mutual friend of ours. She and I had been together for 7 years."

Eyes tilting in empathy, Brooke gave the hand in hers a supportive squeeze. The sting of an unfaithful significant other was very familiar to Brooke.  Dorian had explored many other supposedly greener pastures when they were still married.

"It's nothing compared to what you have been through," Lincoln smiled weakly, eyes downcast watching their entwined hands.  "I wanted to tell you because I understand feeling the hesitancy involved with letting go of someone you once loved.  No matter how much they have hurt you."

"Thank you," Brooke offered, her lips tilting into a brighter smile but it still didn't reach her eyes.

"No." Lincoln shook his head, a warm smile spreading across his lips, a hand lifting to cup her cheek.  "Thank you."

Brooke frowned, tilting her head in confusing which conveniently nuzzled her cheek into his hand.  The warmth spread like a blanket of comfort.

"After Melanie's betrayal, I went wild for several years," Lincoln chuckled bitterly.  "I pulled back from my family, moved to San Diego, hell bent on showing the world I was impenetrable, that I was above that kind of pain. I was bitter, angry and became a wreckless playboy."

Heat crawled up her cheeks at this confession.  More of Brooke's insecurities with intimacy washed over her in a cold rush.  Someone as experienced as Lincoln then would surely be disappointed with her.  Dorian had been more experienced and compared her openly to past conquests.

No! Stop!  He's not Dorian!

"So why thank me?" Brooke asked.

Lincoln's smile spread as his thumb stroked her cheek.  "As one of my closest friends, Trenton saw the dark spiral I was on.  He kept setting me up on dates that I didn't want to go on, yet I still did.  I would do everything I could think of to scare her off.  I was rude, refused to open the doors of restaurants or my car. Not at all a gentleman."

Both grinned in a mutual recollection of his first words to Brooke.

"What changed?"

Letting out a thoughtful sigh, Lincoln answered, "You."