Nick glanced, for the umpteenth time, at Trisha's hair spread over the pillow next to him. Curiously, she wasn't a snuggler after sex. She'd driven him mad, given him the best sex of his life, then rolled over and slept.

He wanted to touch her again.

Tearing his gaze away, he stared at the ceiling. She hadn't shown any signs of sleepwalking or nightmares yet. He didn't have the heart to put the alarm back on her ankle, not that he'd sleep anyhow.

What happened ...