“Why not you?” Going on the offensive, she asked, “What makes you so special?”

Good question, Spencer thought. And coming up with an answer wouldn’t be easy, not when what he wanted most was to hold her close, to protect her, and…to claim her as his own.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SPENCER IGNORED his own reservations, and, because she needed it, he gave her a piece of his soul. “I have nightmares sometimes, too.”

Eyes still damp, Arizona glared at him. “I doubt they’re the same.”

“No, not the same at all.” It wasn’t easy to talk about. He never had before now. Before Arizona. “In my nightmares, I see my wife crying out to me to help her, but I don’t. I can’t.”

Arizona went still, on alert. At least he had her attention now. Her breathing eased, and she stopped shivering. “Seriously?”

Spencer nodded. “In my nightmares, I feel her fear and I see those men doing things to her that…” He worked his jaw and forced himself to say it. “Things that they may or may not have done. I hear her screaming, desperate and panicked—and I’m not there.” He gave a helpless shrug that didn’t even come close to expressing how he felt about it, how much he f**king hated it.

Arizona stared at him, silent, watchful.

“I didn’t help her. I didn’t protect her as I should have.” His expression tight, his heart tighter, he admitted, “The dreams always end the same way, with her getting shot and dying in a pool of her own blood.”

Arizona softened. She wrapped her arms around herself, and her voice lowered. “Not the same, but…pretty awful.”

He walked the rest of the way to her. “It was one of those dreams that drove me to Marla.”

“Why? I don’t get that.”

“Sometimes, a little human contact can help to chase away the demons.” One hand on her shoulder, he stepped closer still. “I could use a little contact right now. How about you?”

“Sex?”

“No.” His guts tightened. “Comfort.”

“Oh.” She was stiff, still. “I don’t know. I’ve never…”

“Getting comfort isn’t something familiar to you. I understand.” Slowly, he drew her up against his chest, and Christ Almighty, it felt good.

It felt right.

His chin to the top of her head, he whispered, “That’s not so bad, is it?”

“No.”

Careful not to do anything to spook her, he kept his hands still on her back and resisted the urge to kiss her temple. “I can’t know all the things you went through, or how those things affected you. But you don’t have to deal with any of it alone.”

She leaned into him, and, tentatively, her arms came around him. “Maybe.”

He felt her small hands on his back, her soft, lush body against his. She nuzzled her face into his shoulder, maybe drying her tears. For his part, Spencer kept his touch as innocent as possible. He’d rather lose a limb than alarm her.

After a few seconds she gave him a tighter, harder squeeze. “You’re so warm.”

“And you’re chilled.” Carefully, he rubbed his palms up and down her bare arms. The urge to fill his hands with her long hair, to press into her, to react, burned inside him. “Should I adjust the air-conditioning?”

“No.”

Nothing was ever simple with Arizona. “Why not?”

“It’s your house. You should be comfortable.”

Damn. “I want you to be comfortable, too. I wish you’d believe that.”

She tipped back to see his face. “Guess we can either stand here being melodramatic, or sit down and get comfortable, or we could try for a few more hours of sleep.” She yawned. “The last is starting to sound good to me.”

Her attempt to hide her feelings didn’t put him off. He understood her need to keep it together, to put up a brave front. It was so novel, so stoic, that he appreciated her efforts, knowing few would be able to manage such a show of grit.

Spencer smoothed her silky hair back, cupped her cheek. “Things can be different if you trust again, if you see a better side of things.”

She knuckled her left eye. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t planning to slit my wrists or anything. You don’t need to break out a sermon.”

When she made to move away, he gripped her shoulders. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom?”

“Oh.” She stepped out of reach, and his hands fell to his sides.

As she strode away, Spencer, feeling like a true bastard, watched the sway of her hips in the loose shorts, how her shapely legs took such long strides.

When she returned a minute later, he saw that the cool air had affected her, and he could see the jut of her ni**les beneath the T-shirt. She had heavy, firm br**sts made more noticeable by her slender frame.

Yawning again, she made a beeline for the couch.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Spencer asked, “Will you be able to sleep?”

“Yup.” In an offhand way, she added, “As long as you mosey on to bed instead of keeping watch over me.”

Somehow, he doubted she’d sleep. Was she planning something? Probably.

Spencer studied her. “Will you be here in a few more hours when I get up?”

Her brows pulled together the tiniest bit, making her look more quizzical than annoyed. “You want me to be?”

“Yes.” Something darkened in her eyes. Relief? “I want that very much.”