Ian’s morning voice always sounded so sexy and gruff, like silk over sandpaper. Brown eyes, the color of the Kentucky bourbon her granddad had been so fond of, gleamed down at her. The perpetual five o’clock shadow stubbling his handsome face gave him a rakish look that never failed to increase her heart rate. He was smiling just a little, giving her a teasing glimpse of the dimple in his right cheek. “Good morning.” “Get much sleep?” No, she hadn’t. Nightmares had chased her all night. Ian knew better than anyone how unusual an easy sleep was for her. Intimacy was difficult for Sabrina for a lot of reasons and one of them had to do with her inability to sleep the night through without nightmares. No one in her family knew about them. She couldn’t bear for them to ever find out. Nightmares had been part of her life since she was ten years old. Awake or asleep, they shadowed her but it was in sleep, when she was her most vulnerable, that they tortured her soul. Ian had questioned her many times about them.
