Page 109 of Dark Lover

She’d never worried about rejection before. She’d never cared whether a guy wanted more or not. And she’d never wanted to cuddle before, either.

She was not going to turn into a mushy female. She ran her nails down his arm. “You okay, dark lover?”

He turned to stare at her. “Are ye?”

She stopped the phony smile. “That was amazing, actually.”

His expression finally softened. “Yeah.” His gaze moved to her mouth. “I was too rough.”

“It’s called passion, baby,” she said lightly, hoping to hide how stunned and oddly happy she was feeling. She laid her hand on one large pectoral muscle and stroked it casually, because she had to touch him.

His eyes widened in surprise. She felt the muscle beneath her hand tense. She expected him to pull away and she was sorry she’d reached out, even casually.

But he lay very still, closing his eyes instead.

He was going to let her caress him. Opportunist that she was, she stroked his chest, going from large circles to smaller ones, closing in on his nipple. She wouldn’t mind spending hours touching him, she thought. What was happening to her?

He was such a mess and she was worried about him.

But now he sighed in pleasure and enjoyment. Her body tightened, warmed. Then she sighed and let her hand drop between them. Her palm lay flat against his hard hipbone.

And he didn’t call her out on the gesture of affection. “Do ye want to sleep?”

Sam blinked at what had risen between them. She hid a smile. To answer…or just act? She moved against him, kissed his navel. He grunted in satisfaction, and grunted again when she touched the steel ring.

AT FIRST, she thought she was dreaming, as she heard the harsh, heavy, frightened breathing behind her. No, beside her. Someone was chasing her, she thought groggily, but it was a dream, wasn’t it? She was aware of the comfortable mattress beneath her body and the warm man beside her in the bed. No, not any man, she thought, starting to smile. She was in bed with Maclean and they’d had a fantastic night.

He screamed.

The sound was bloodcurdling. It was a sound of pain and fear. Sam shot upright. It took her one instant to realize that Ian lay beside her, tossing and turning, in the throes of a nightmare. Moonlight spilled over his twisted face, his bare torso. The covers were tangled around his hips and he was covered in sweat. He screamed again.

She seized his shoulders. “Ian, wake up!”

His hands went around her throat and he started to strangle her, his expression now a mask of murderous fury. His eyes opened and their gazes met. Sam grabbed his wrists, choking.

Lucidity returned. He released her, leaping from the bed.

Sam inhaled, sucking down air.

Ian staggered across the chamber, then straightened. Slowly, he turned. “Are ye all right?” he demanded.

Sam sat back against the headboard, nodding. “I’m fine.” She had not a doubt he was dreaming about the past. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he said swiftly, but he was still shaking, his words clearly false. He picked up his jeans, which had been on the floor, and stepped into them. Sam thought she saw his hands shaking.

She watched him walk over to the table and pour a cup of wine. “That was quite a dream,” she tried.

He drank, not answering.

She was certain that wasn’t his first nightmare. Just like she was certain he had flashbacks from time to time. “What did they do to you?” she finally asked.

He turned and stared at her.

Sam didn’t think he would answer, and he didn’t have to. She knew.

But he did answer. “Everything.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN