"Jackson, Trace, Dare … they're like a bunch of meddling old ladies."
Acrimony? Sarcasm? He'd take it over her terror any day. "I'll tell them you said so." Another foot toward her. "Please don't be self-conscious. Not with me."
"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 fucking 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 nipples beneath the T-shirt. She had heavy, firm breasts 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."
"Then I'll be here."
Still feeling uncertain, Spencer pressed her. "If you have another nightmare-"
"No, I won't wake you, so don't suggest it. It's dumb. I'm an adult. And I know how to take care of myself." She snuggled down under the throw. "But I also promise not to go running off into the night like a demented woman. Good enough?"
He supposed it'd have to be. "All right."
"Now go away or I'll be forced to group you in with the others, who really are mother hens."
Spencer moved to stand in front of her. He couldn't leave her, not like this, so he crouched down before her, smoothed her hair. "I'm just down the hall if you change your mind." What was he saying?
She tucked in her chin and stared at him. "Change my mind about what?"
Good question. Even he wasn't entirely sure what he'd meant. "If you can't get back to sleep. We can talk, or watch TV or grab an early breakfast." He tugged the throw up over her shoulder. "Just let me know."
For an answer, she rolled her eyes, dropped her head back to the arm rest, and faked a loud snore. With a small smile, Spencer squeezed her shoulder and rose to walk away.
He wanted to get her a regular bed pillow.
He wanted to sit back down and continue … just touching her. But pushing Arizona in any way would be a mistake. So instead, he adjusted the air-conditioning, then went into his bedroom, closed his door and stripped off his clothes.
It took him a little while, but he finally fell asleep.
And for once, his dreams weren't of his wife. They were all about Arizona.
And they were surprisingly pleasant.
* * *
ARIZONA HUMMED as she finished her shower. It wasn't the thought of dressing in new clothes that lightened her mood. She detested outfits meant to draw attention, but she accepted it as a necessary means to an end. She needed to be noticed at the bar, and so she'd chosen clothes that would ensure it.
So, no, it wasn't the clothes; it was Spencer who made her feel … lighthearted. Weird. Rarely did she feel so worry-free, and never because of a man.
Sure, she adored Jackson and probably always would. The poor guy had become her stand-in … everything. Big brother, best friend, comrade and semi-confidant. Jackson knew things about her that few others did, because he'd been there, witnessing it firsthand while risking his life to save hers.
It made her hot with humiliation and soft with gratitude, every time she thought of it.
Jackson had done so much for her-and she'd done nothing for him. She was a burden for him to bear. An added responsibility when he already had so many.
The imbalance of their relationship left her indebted, defensive and heavy with guilt. She needed to repay Jackson for all he'd done.
Someday, somehow, she would.
But Spencer, yeah, Spencer felt more like a true partner. There was equality. She'd had a shitty nightmare, and that sucked. But she'd also seen the expression in his dark brown eyes as he'd shared his own nightmares.
It was the sharing that made all the difference.