Something woke Janine from a light slumber. She lay in bed, one half of her face squashed against her pillow, listening. Not even the creak of joists shifting broke the heavy silence. Holding her breath a moment longer, she tested the ambiance of the room. Is anyone here? Am I alone?

Her senses craned, seeking that sense of vitality that only another person could emit. She sought another presence, a reason for waking, and felt nothing. She exhaled with relief.

No bogeyman tonight.

For those who might mock her, she had no problem admitting a fear of the dark, especially the particular shade it achieved in the middle of the night. Dark deeds often happened under night’s shadow. And sometimes a little girl wakes and opens her eyes to see bloodshot ones staring right at her. The shriek she uttered proved piercing.

The scarier thing? Daddy screamed at an even higher pitch.

But that had happened a long time ago. Only the one time, but it left an impression. She’d spent years fighting her fear of the dark. Many a night, either Orson or her mother, sometimes even both, sat on the edge of her bed and soothed her. Brushing back the hair stuck to her damp forehead and making soothing sounds and promises. Orson used to press a gentle kiss on her forehead, tuck her teddy, Ralph, under the blankets and whisper, “Never fear, June-bug. You have a bear to protect you.” Orson did keep her safe, and even better, never lost himself.

But could she say the same about Derrick?

Don’t start thinking about him. Go back to sleep. Easier said than done. Clamping her eyes shut did not do a thing to relax her. Sigh. The problem with getting woken with an adrenalized jolt was winding back down.

Restless, she rolled onto her back and starred at the popcorn ceiling, finding comfort in the familiar ridges. Throughout the rest of the house, her parents had scraped the ceilings smooth, except in this room at her request. When sleep eluded her, she fought her fears and relaxed by searching the shadowy shapes and turning them into something pleasant—like a bunny hopping through a field. Or, look, there was pirate ship, coasting the waves. She shifted in bed, and the shadows moved, and there was a rugged jaw. The broad shoulders much like D—

She turned away from a ceiling that seemed determined to make her think about the one thing she kept trying to avoid.

Tried being the key word.

The man wouldn’t leave her thoughts. Derrick. Derrick. Derrick. Almost an obsession, one she kept trying to fight.

Get out of my head. She punched her pillow. Frustration coiled hotly inside her—especially between her legs, as she went thinking about him again. Why did he have to plague her so much? It seemed as if her ability to compartmentalize her patients from her personal life just kept failing with him. Her unorthodox ways led to maverick emotions. A part of her wanted to buck all rules and conventions to make her own choices.

Craziness, which was why she stared at the ceiling, fists clenched at her sides atop the comforter. So much for sleep. Then again, the fact that she’d slept at all proved a surprise. She’d tumbled into her bed just after one, as her parents waved off the last guests—her Aunt Minnie and Uncle Sherman, who couldn’t leave an open bottle of scotch. But once that last drop was gone? So long and see you next time.

As Janine had passed the closed door to the den on the main floor on the way to the stairs for the second floor, she stared, almost hard enough surely to bore a hole through the wood. She couldn’t help it, not with a few glasses of mom’s punch and the knowledge Derrick slept behind the flimsy portal.

Or did he?

Did he enjoy the oblivion of a deep sleep, or did he stare at the ceiling too?

Why did she even wonder?

Because I can’t help myself. With Derrick, she wanted to break all the rules. For him, she was willing to risk it all.

Madness. Derrick was a man troubled. A guy who had begun to open his eyes to the possibilities of a future and yet still resisted. Add to that he seemed a man determined to avoid her. Look at how he’d come to her rescue, only to disappear after the incident with Brian. He didn’t even say goodnight.

Is he mad at me? Jealous… She couldn’t help but wonder. She’d seen his face when he realized she and Brian had once been intimate. Janine wasn’t so coy as to mistake the tight-lipped countenance of a man in the throes of jealousy.

He cared, yet what must he think of her? Admitting she used to date Brian must have thrown him for a loop. Janine could admit a certain guilty pleasure in Derrick’s disdain for Brian, his eloquently evocative nickname douche nozzle truly an apt descriptor of her ex. Witty comebacks, however, couldn’t compare to the cruel way Brian rubbed Derrick’s pride by reminding him of his issue below the waist.

A low blow to a man struggling so hard to cope with losing what he felt defined his masculinity.

Did he avoid her for any of those reasons, or was there yet another?

Ever since Janine’s talk with her mother, she’d wanted to have a serious chat with Derrick. I want to ask him if he really thinks he’s my mate. Did he truly believe Janine was the one for him?

The idea thrilled—and terrified. If he did think her his mate, should she try and dissuade him of his belief or rejoice in it?

A faint noise caught her attention, a sound that didn’t belong in the house she knew so well. She snapped her attention and listened for a repeat. It didn’t reoccur, yet she still swung her legs out of the bed, letting her feet flatten on the cold parquet floor. Another thing she insisted they keep when they renovated every other inch of the house. She liked the patterns inside the squares.

She eschewed slippers and even a robe as she eased across the room, moving by familiar rote away from the squeaky spots. While a good girl now, she’d more than once snuck downstairs as a teen with a bobbing flashlight, guided by the nightlights her parents put in for her, usually for a midnight snack.

Down the steps she eased, ninja-quiet in a pink nightgown that went to mid-thigh with a cartoon kitty on her chest. The house loomed around her, a familiar space changed by shadows and darkness. In the deep of night, at the witching hour of three, it was hard not to hesitate and wonder what might hide, ready to pounce. Her heart thumped, a hard, fast tempo, yet her breath barely whispered past her lips as she held tightly to it lest the noise mask more nefarious sounds.

Admit it. A part of me is wondering if Derrick sleepwalks too, rolling the halls, ready to make me pee my panties. It would take only a minute to check.

Reaching the den, she paused outside the closed door. More than likely, he rested within.

I should peek to make sure he’s in there. Yet, rushing in might prove startling, especially if Derrick lay awake. Perhaps it was not even him making the noise at all.

Perhaps…

A frown drew her brows together as she stared at the solid wood paneling of the door. She couldn’t help but recall Derrick remained unfettered this night.

Not his idea. According to her father, Derrick asked for cuffs, but Orson refused him. Said if Derrick planned to live on his own, he needed to start taking responsibility for himself.

On that she and her dad agreed. Derrick needed to trust that he could control his wolf. She knew he could. Hoped. Because if he didn’t and he went feral in her parents’ house…

No. That didn’t even bear thinking. She shook her head free of pessimism and leaned forward enough that she could press her ear against the cool flat panel of the door. Breathing shallowly, she kept eyes wide open to watch the hall in front of her while worrying about what might creep from the wall behind.

Don’t think about it.

Don’t think about the fact that her mother had once upon a time done a walk of her own in the middle of the night, only to find—

Before Janine could let her mind go in that direction, she grasped the knob of the door and threw it open, needing to prove to herself that Derrick simply slept.

Light, glowing from a soft bulb plugged in the wall, took some of the eeriness from the room and illuminated the man lying under a thick blue comforter on the pullout couch.

He’s not dead.

Of course not. Derrick wasn’t her father. He wouldn’t leave me like that.

How she wished these odd certainties would stop. They didn’t help her frame of mind. Seeing him resting and looking so peaceful, his usual lines of wariness worn smooth, she chastised herself. What if she’d woken him? She knew how he usually suffered from nightmares. For once, the man slept and—

He stirred, shifting under the covers, a grimace pulling at his features.

“No.” The word whispered from his lips.

Did he talk to her, or did he dream? Before anyone could hear him, she shut the door with a quiet click. He didn’t waken, his body shifting under the covers.

A step, then another, brought her to his bedside. She stared down at him and noted the rapid flutter of his orbs under eyelids.

“No. Leave her alone.”

Leave who? Who did he speak of? She didn’t recall hearing of any women being part of his capture and torture.

“Don’t touch her. I said. Don’t. Touch. Her.” The words emerged in a low growl, rumbled and vicious. She also couldn’t miss the fact that his features took on an inhuman cast.

“Derrick?” She uttered his name softly, not wanting to startle him.

Grrrr. The low sound vibrated as it rolled from a peeled lip, baring sharp teeth. The wolf tried to rise, and Derrick, still asleep, hadn’t the slightest clue.

A shiver pimpled her skin. “Derrick, you have to wake up.” Because if he went loup in her father’s house, who knew what Orson would do to protect her and her mother.

Another sound emerged from Derrick, a low rumble as his head thrashed from side to side.

“You have to stay in control,” she muttered. Before Janine could question her actions, she clambered onto the bed and straddled his waist. He probably didn’t feel her holding his lower body down with hers, but he couldn’t miss the fact that she grabbed both his wrists. She might not have the strength to hold him, but she hoped to wake him before he truly got out of control.

He remained asleep, despite her maneuvering.

“Derrick.” Holding his hands pinned to the bed, she leaned forward, wanting him to see her if he woke and not a strange room that might make him panic further.

His upper body undulated. Bared to the waist, she couldn’t help but feel how the flesh of his chest burned hot. He thrashed under her, his frame twisting, his features contorting. Coarse hairs pushed against the flesh of her hands where she still held his wrists, a freaky sensation, yet still she held on.

“I won’t let you go. I won’t let you lose this fight,” she muttered as she tightened her grip. “I’m here, Derrick. You’re not in danger. Not anymore.”

“Red.” The word burst from his lips on a cry that started out soft but grew in tenor.

Only one way to stop that sound from reaching a peak and waking her parents.

Janine mashed her mouth to his, swallowing his cry. It halted the sound dead. So dead, he even stopped breathing. His lashes fluttered.

Staring into his brown eyes, she could see the wariness—and the flat shine of his other. She pulled her lips away with a tremulously spoken, “Derrick?”

“What are you doing?”

Being wildly inappropriate? Oh and not currently caring. “You were having a nightmare.”

“And? You know I have those every night. What were you thinking coming in here, especially with me loose? I could have killed you.”

“You wouldn’t kill me.” She’d stake her life on it.

“Yes, I could have, especially given you were mauling me in my sleep.”

“Maul? I was kissing you.”

His brow pulled into a frown. “Kissing me why?”

“You were going to scream.”

“Wouldn’t you if someone was pinning you to a bed? I probably thought you were the bogeyman come to get me.”

Her turn to frown at him. “Stop twisting this around. You had no idea I was kissing you. Just like I bet you don’t remember talking in your sleep.”

“Big deal. I had a nightmare. I get those every night. You should know. We’ve talked about them.” He rolled his eyes.

“Yes we did.” In great detail, almost as if he relished telling her the gory parts in the hopes of chasing her away. She wasn’t that easy to chase. “And never once in all the talks we had”—around the pool as she quick-walked beside him on the grounds or in the gym as he pumped iron—“did you ever mention anything about a woman being in there with you.”

“There was no woman.”

“That’s what you said, and yet, just now, there was one in your dream. You kept asking them not to touch her. It seemed really important. Why haven’t you told me about it? Who was the woman?” She had a feeling she knew, but, at the same time, feared she saw something only because she wanted it.

“There was no woman.” Flatly said and with eyes averted.

She released his hands and leaned up, only so she could grab his cheeks. “Who. Was. She. Who did you not want them to touch?”

For a moment, he fought her, silently and without movement. He fought by not answering and by keeping his gaze locked away from her.

Not this time. Not at the witching hour when boundaries were lowered and truths could be revealed. “Tell me, Derrick. Please.”

At the plea, he groaned and closed his eyes. “Why can’t you leave me alone?” he whispered.

“Because I can’t. I just can’t.”

He sighed. “I wish you would. Maybe then I could escape you. But everywhere I look, I see you. Even when I close my eyes, there you are. And tonight, you made it to my nightmare.”

“You thought they captured me?”

He nodded.

“But more than that, they wanted to hurt me in front of you?”

No nod this time, but she could tell by the tenseness of his frame she’d guessed true, and the thought of it pained him.

“It wasn’t real, Derrick.”

“Maybe not, and yet the emotions, the heart-stopping terror and rage-inducing madness of it still thunder through my veins.” His eyes flashed opened and flared golden, the animal still simmering beneath the surface. “The beast wanted to kill the men in my dream. Rend them limb from limb for daring to harm you. I still do. I want to hurt something.” The sentence squeezed through clenched teeth.

She let her thumbs stroke his cheeks as she stared, hoping that, like on other occasions, she could calm the wild beast. “I’m not hurt, and you’re free now.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“The rehab center is only temporary.”

“I wasn’t talking about that. I’ll never be free.”

“The only chains holding you down are doubt and pessimism.”

“Don’t you dare pep-talk me at this time of the night while straddling me only in a nightie. I might be impotent, but I’m not dead, and I’m not in the mood.”

She squirmed atop him. “Are you sure of that?” She didn’t miss the catch of his breath.

“What are you doing? You know I can’t feel that.”

“Liar. A part of you feels it, maybe not on the same physical level, but you do feel. Don’t forget. You can also see.” Blame her own adrenaline for fueling her boldness. She sat straight on him and grabbed the hem of her nightgown. She tugged at it.

“What are you doing?” The words emerged almost trembling. “Red, stop it. Don’t you dare.”

“Dare what? Take off my clothes and prove you can feel?”

His hands grabbed at hers, stopping their ascent. “You don’t have to pity strip for me. I already know that I can get horny. So leave the clothes on.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t feel sorry for you? As a matter of fact, if anyone deserves pity here, it’s me. Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted you to touch me. Wanted to touch you in return.” She pulled her left hand free and pressed it against his flesh, the heat of it a brand on her skin.

He sucked in a breath. “What happened to doctor/patient boundaries? Weren’t you the one saying we needed some?”

“I can’t have any boundaries from you. I tried. It just hasn’t worked.” The admission spilled free. “And besides, you told my dad to fire me.”

“Did he?”

“Doesn’t matter because I quit.” She leaned down and kissed him, not because she wanted to quiet him this time, but because she wanted the taste of him on her lips.

He didn’t protest any further. He caved completely to her sensual seduction. His arms wrapped around her, the strength in them great and yet gentle. Just like his kiss proved gentle, restrained.

She didn’t feel the same need. She gripped his cheeks and held him for plundering. She sucked and nibbled at his lips, feeling liquid heat coursing through her veins as arousal lit every nerve she had.

With just a kiss—A kiss!—he managed to arouse her like no other. When his hands did finally start to roam, lifting the fabric of the nightgown as he skimmed her skin, he lit a path of fiery awareness.

He kept lifting the gown, and she raised herself upright, grasping the hem to pull it off completely. She wore only panties underneath; her breasts hung a little with weight, but he didn’t seem to mind their lushness because his eyes flared with hunger.

Before his avid gaze, her nipples hardened into tight points, a temptation he couldn’t resist. His hands rose to cup her breasts. A thumb brushed over each peak, and a shiver zipped through her.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” The whispered words held such a note of reverence. And he proved his words with worship, tensing his stomach to bring his torso up and then leaning forward as he placed a hand on her nape and arched her back. He positioned her that he might lean forward and capture the tip of her breast in his mouth.

At the first wet tug, she cried out. Her head tilted and her lips parted as she closed her eyes, enjoying the blissful sensation of his lips on her breast. He paid homage to her body with his lips and tongue, even his hands.

The pleasure proved exquisite. She couldn’t help but rock on him, grinding herself against him, putting pressure on her clit. She pushed back against him, her position not allowing her to touch him as she’d like.

Her turn to lean forward and latch her lips to a nipple. He hummed an appreciative note as she sucked and bit down on him. A fine tremble went through him. She squirmed in reply.

A rake of her nails down his chest brought a gasp from his lips, but he got her back by flipping her on the sofa bed—creak. The furniture didn’t collapse, and with a chuckle, Derrick draped himself partially over her.

“I wasn’t done,” she said as she twined her arms around his neck to draw him near.

His lips brushed hers softly. “Neither was I.”

He captured her mouth at the same time his fingers crossed the boundary of her panties. As his tongue insinuated itself to tease and please, so did his finger find her damp folds and part them.

The honey of her arousal eased his way, and he dipped his finger a few times before adding a second. Her channel clutched at his digits, and she rocked her hips as he thrust them slowly in and out. But it was when he managed to have his thumb tap at her clit that she couldn’t help but clutch at his shoulders and utter a sound that his lips muffled. The very fact that she couldn’t scream as her body craved sent a shudder through her.

And then another as he added a third finger to really make it tight while his thumb kept teasing her button.

It was enough to drive any woman wild. But Derrick wasn’t done. He pushed himself away from her lips and settled himself between her legs. He raised her thighs so they sat on his shoulders, and his hands gripped her full cheeks, tugging her closer. The warmth of his breath tickled her nether lips.

She clutched at the sheet and clenched her jaw, the anticipation of pleasure making her glisten and tremble.

He didn’t immediately lick. Instead, his fingers returned to slowly penetrate. His mouth brushed against the vulnerable skin of her inner thigh. She sighed.

He moved closer, the heat of his breath scorching. She squirmed.

“Be still,” he whispered, hot against her lower lips. “Don’t make a sound.”

And she hoped she didn’t, but she couldn’t be sure because when his tongue began to lash her clit, she kind of lost it.