Chapter One Hundred and Fourty Two
She'd sentenced herself to lying here for the rest of the night, hot and needy and obsessing about whether she was the only one suffering. But some time during the next hour, she drifted off to sleep. And some time later, a low, choking sound woke her again.
Alarmed by the sound of distress, Kimberly pressed her back against the mattress, trying to figure out where she was and why.
It was dark, with only a narrow shaft of light coming in between the curtains, and it took a moment for her fogged brain to remember that she was in a hotel room bed—and why there was a man lying next to her.
His body jerked, and she shifted toward him. "Asher?" she called softly.
He didn't answer. He appeared to be asleep. But his head moved from side to side on the pillow, and she knew that he was in the grip of a nightmare. She knew because she'd been there.
"It's all right. Asher, wake up." she said.
When he didn't answer, she slid over and laid a hand on his warm, muscular shoulder.