She crossed to the dresser and took a pair of pajamas from the drawer. "I guess it's pretty pitiful when your dreams are the most interesting part of your life. I really want to change that. I don't mean I have to climb mountains or jump out of planes-"

He stopped listening-and he had listened all along. But now, as she spoke, she tugged the navy sweatshirt she wore over her head and began to unbutton the simple plaid shirt beneath.

He stopped hearing the words as she slipped the shirt off, stood folding the sweatshirt wearing only a lacy white bra and jeans.

She was small and slender, her skin milk pale. Her jeans bagged a bit at the waist, making the man inside the wolf nearly groan as her fingers reached for the button. His blood warmed, his pulse quickened as she let the denim slide carelessly down her legs.

The swatch of white rode low on her hips. He wanted his mouth there, just there along that lovely curve. To taste the flesh, to feel the shape of bone. And to slide his tongue under the white until she quivered.

She sat, tugging off her socks, shaking her feet free of the jeans. And nearly drove him mad as she stood to lay them aside.

The low growl in his throat went unnoticed by both of them as she unhooked her bra in an innocent striptease. He felt his control slipping as he imagined cupping his hands there, over small white br**sts, skimming his thumbs over pale pink ni**les.

Lowering his head until his mouth was-

The sudden violent slash of lightning had her jumping, muffling a scream. "God! The storm must be coming back. I thought-" She stopped in midsentence as she glanced over, saw those gold eyes glinting. In an instinctive gesture, she crossed her arms over her naked br**sts. Beneath them her heart bounced like a rabbit.

His eyes looked so- human, she thought with a quick panic. The expression in them hungry. "Why do I suddenly feel like Little Red Riding Hood?" She eased out a breath, drew in another. "That's just foolish." But her voice wasn't quite steady as she made the grab for her pajama top. She made a little squeak of surprise when he caught the dangling sleeve in his teeth and dragged it away.

A laugh bubbled up and out. She grabbed the collar of the flannel, pulled. The quick, unexpected tug-of-war made her laugh again. "You think it's funny?" she demanded. Damn if she didn't see amusement in those fascinating eyes. "I just bought these. They may not be pretty, but they're warm-and it's cold in here. Now, let go!"

When he did, abruptly, she stumbled back two paces before she caught her balance. Wonderfully naked but for that triangle at her hips, she narrowed her eyes at him. "A real joker, aren't you?" She held the top up, searching for tears or teeth marks, and found none. "Well, at least you didn't eat it."

He watched her slip it on, button it. There was something erotic even in that, in the way the brightly patterned flannel skimmed her thighs. But before she could pull on the bottoms he pleased himself by shifting his head, running his tongue from her ankle to the back of her knee.

She chuckled, bent down to scratch his ears as though he were the family dog. "I like you, too." After pulling the bottoms on, she reached up to loosen what was left of her braid. As she reached for her brush, the wolf padded over to the bed, leaped up and stretched out at the foot.

"Oh, I don't think so." Amused, she turned, running the brush through her hair. "I really don't. You'll have to get down from there."

He watched her unblinkingly. She would have sworn he smiled. Huffing out a breath, she shook her hair back, set the brush aside, then walked to the side of the bed. In her best teacher's voice she ordered him down and pointed meaningfully at the floor.

This time she knew he smiled.

"You're not sleeping in the bed." She reached out, intended to pull him off. But when he bared his teeth, she cleared her throat. "Well, one night. What could it hurt?"

Watching him cautiously, she climbed up, sliding under the duvet. He simply lay, his head snugged between his front paws. She picked up her glasses, her book, shrugging when the wolf lay still. Satisfied, she piled the pillows behind her and settled in to read.

Only moments later, the mattress shifted, and the wolf moved over to lie at her side, laying his head in her lap. Without a thought, Rowan stroked nun and began to read aloud.

She read until her eyes grew heavy, her voice thick, and once more slipped into sleep with a book in her hand.

The air quivered as wolf became man. Liam touched a finger to her forehead. "Dream, Rowan," he murmured, pausing as he felt her slide deeper. He took her book, her glasses and set them neatly on the bedside table. Then he eased her down, lifting her head so he could spread out the pillows.

"You must be waking every morning stiff as a board," he murmured. "Forever falling asleep sitting up." He skimmed the back of his hand over her cheek, then sighed.

The scent of her, silky and female and subtle was enough to drive him mad. Each quiet breath through those full and parted lips was a kind of invitation.

"Damn it, Rowan, you lie in bed with me with the rain on the roof and read Yeats aloud in that soft, almost prim voice of yours. How should I resist that? I'll have to have you sooner or later. Later's the better for both of us. But I need something tonight."

He took her hand, pressed palm to palm, linked fingers. And shut his eyes. "Come with me, two minds, one dream. Sleep is not now what it seems. Give what I need, and take what you'll have from me. As I will, so mote it be."

She moaned. And moved. Her free arm flung up over her head, her lips parting on a shuddering breath that seemed to whisper in his blood. His own pulse thickened as he made love to her with his mind. Tasted her, touched her with his thoughts. Gave himself to hers.

Lost in dreams, she arched up, her body shuddering under phantom hands.

She smelled him, that musky, half-animal scent that had already stirred her more than once in dreams. Images, sensations, desires, confused and tangled and arousing beyond belief swarmed through her. Embracing them, she murmured his name and opened to him, body and mind.

The hot wave of his thoughts lifted her up, held her trembling, aching, quivering, then stabbed her with unspeakable pleasure. She heard her name, said quietly, almost desperately. Repeated. Desire drugged the mind, swirled through it, then slid silently away into fulfillment.

He sat, his eyes still closed, his hand still joined with hers. Listened to the rain, her soft and steady breathing. Resisting the urge to lie with her, to touch her now with more than his mind, he threw his head back. And vanished.