An Excerpt from:  IN HER WILDEST DREAMS
© Copyright KIMBERLY DEAN, 2008.

Pocket Books, March 2008.

Sighing, he reached out and cupped the nape of her neck.  He drew her back towards him and brushed his thumb against her cheek.  “Sorry, it’s just rare for Somnambulists to—”

She flinched again, surprising him.

“Sleepwalkers,” he quickly clarified.  “It’s rare for sleepwalkers to remember anything they see or do.”

Even as he tried to calm her, though, Derek’s own mind was spinning.  It was more than rare.  He’d never heard of anything like that happening before.  A Somnambulist never transferred its consciousness to its host.  Never.

An uneasy feeling settled in his chest.  Was that thing so entwined with her?  Were they meshing so completely?  His fingers tightened reflexively in her hair. 

Would hurting it hurt her?

And killing it?

His eyes clamped shut.  Oh, God.

“Derek?”

He kissed her.  He just pulled her against him and sealed his mouth against hers.  Put him up against a Night Terror any day.  Make him face an army of Lunatics.  He could take a threat against himself.  Just don’t threaten her.  He couldn’t handle it.

His touch seemed to finally break her.  With a soft cry, her arms wrapped around his neck.  Her body melted against his, and something inside his chest squeezed.  He circled an arm around her waist and pulled her even closer.  He wanted to protect her from this.  He wanted to shield her from everything bad and scary.

Pulling back, he looked into her eyes.  The Somnambulist had obviously tapped into her consciousness.  If she’d been in jeopardy…  “I just wished you’d let me stay.”

Any remaining color drained from her face.

“Don’t say that,” she whispered hoarsely.  Her fingers clutched at his shoulders.  “Don’t say that.”

Almost desperate, she pulled him back down.  Her kiss was deeper, rawer.  Her tongue swept through his mouth frantically and her hands tugged his T-shirt from his jeans.

She needed this.  They both needed this.

Derek’s hands fisted into the loose-fitting fabric of her scrubs.  Breaking their kiss, they tugged off clothing and dropped it onto the floor.  As if they’d been lovers for years, they came back into each other’s embrace.  Derek groaned when Shea pressed her palm against his stiff cock. 

“I hate what’s happening to me,” she whispered hoarsely against his chest.  “I can’t take not knowing what I’m doing and feeling so out of control.”

He pumped into her hand.  “Baby, you can be in charge of this.”

Dipping his head, he stole another voracious kiss.  The feel of her soft palm and fingers was almost too much.  He’d needed to be with her like this ever since she’d first called from the hospital.  The fear and anguish in her voice had been too much. 

He’d do whatever she wanted, be whatever she needed.

Their gazes connected, and the temperature in the room rose by what had to be at least ten degrees.  Derek felt every tick upwards.  Heat was suddenly pouring through his veins.  The tips of her breasts brushed against his chest, and his balls drew up tight.  Her belly stroked against his aching cock, and it was all he could do not to pick her up and thrust into her right then and there.

But she wanted to be in charge, and he’d given her the reins.

She gave him a soft nudge backwards.  The back of his knees hit the mattress, and he sat down hard.  He let out a ragged breath when she stepped up, naked and vulnerable, between his knees.  His air stirred the soft blonde curls covering her pussy, and she shivered.

“Derek,” she sighed.

She placed one knee on the mattress beside his hip, and he slid his hand intimately between her legs.  With a slow groan, her head fell back.  Her hair dangled behind her, and she looked so sexy he almost forgot to breathe.  He rubbed her mound more possessively, and her breasts jutted up into the air. 

“Come here, baby.”