An Excerpt From: DREAM WALKER
© Copyright KIMBERLY DEAN, 2015
He’d let her fall asleep.
It was the first clear thought that ran through Shea’s mind when she opened her eyes. That and the fact that Derek was still with her. His heat pressed against her back, and his arm draped heavily across her waist. They were lying side by side on her bed, her body tucked up close against his.
Yet even as she responded in pleasure, she tensed.
Darkness was falling. They’d spent the day making love, and now the sun was setting. Night was creeping in. She stared at the oil painting that hung on the wall until her nerves began to crawl. Even the littlest thing could set her Somnambulist off—and today had been anything but normal—yet she’d let herself be lulled into sleep.
What had she been thinking?
“There you are,” a deep voice rumbled. The hand against her stomach flexed, and she was pulled more tightly against the big male form behind her.
A muscled thigh slipped between her legs, and Shea arched as a soft kiss was placed on the side of her neck. The intimate embrace had her groaning. Obviously, she hadn’t been thinking. Her brain had been shorted out, disconnected, and thrown right into the bathwater.
How could she have let her guard down like that? The freedom had been fantastic, arousing and intoxicating as fine wine, but how could she have forgotten what had been happening to her? What had happened just this morning?
Had she… Oh, God. Had she done anything in her sleep? With Derek here?
“How long have I been out?” she asked in a rush.
That rumbling voice was too disconcerting, too sexy. She had to look into his eyes. Tucking the sheet up high under her arms, she rolled over to face him. When she did, her breath caught in her chest. His short hair was mussed, and dark shadows lined his jaw. The bad boy look didn’t fit his character, but it was so incredibly hot she had to press her legs together.
Unable to help herself, she let her gaze drop. She took in the well-drawn lines of his body, his muscled chest and rippling abs, but the sheet sitting low on his hips wasn’t what made her look up again. It was the relaxed look on his face. She’d never seen him so calm, so relaxed, so at ease in the moment. It made her belly warm.
Relaxed had to be good, right? If she’d gotten up and danced zombie pirouettes around the bedroom, he wouldn’t be relaxed.
Or so obviously ready to make love to her again.
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