Page 89 of Fragile Sanctuary

“But I knowyou. You’re worth the life flowing through you. And I know she would think the same.”

His jaw clenched and flexed as if each word were a physical blow.

I placed a hand over his heart. “You matter, Anson. You’re a good man.”

“Reckless.” The word was more rasp than syllables.

“Agoodman. No matter how much you try to hide it.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You need to go back to sleep.”

I would’ve smiled if I weren’t hurting so badly for him. Anson would do anything to avoid praise. But he deserved it. He was the kind of man who stayed, even when it risked the walls he’d built. The kind of man who helped, even when it was inconvenient. The kind of man who didn’t look away in the face of pain. And that was the greatest gift of all.

I stared into those swirling eyes. “Stay with me?”

His stubbled jaw flexed again. “Okay.”

I shifted, scooting over to give Anson room. He didn’t move fast or slow, but methodically. And as soon as he was beneath the covers, he pulled me to him, my back to his front.

“Sleep, Reckless. I’ll keep the demons away.”

And he did.

27

RHODES

Heat swirled around me.But this wasn’t a warmth that brought fear. This was a heat that was pure comfort. The kind I wanted to swim around in and never leave.

I burrowed deeper into the sea of warmth, settling in to stay a while.

An arm tightened around my waist.

I froze.

An arm. Aroundmywaist. One that wasn’t mine.

My eyes flew open as memories came flooding back. The nightmare. Anson.

He’d stayed. Of course, he had. Because that was who he was.

Anson nuzzled my neck and mumbled something in his sleep.

A smile teased my mouth at the adorable innocence of it. But then he shifted, pressing something verynotinnocent against my backside.

A little moan slipped from my lips as my thighs clenched.

Anson’s arm tightenedaround me. “Morning.”

His voice was pure sandpaper and grit, and, God, it did something to me. I might need some sort of brain scan. Maybe I had a tumor. Because a man’s voice shouldn’t have wetness gathering between my thighs.

Anson’s fingers traced circles on my belly through the delicate fabric of my nightgown. “You sleep okay?”

“Better than I have in years,” I said honestly. There was a touch of rasp to my tone, as well. I hoped I could pass it off as sleepiness and not the turned-the-hell-on truth.

His hand slid lower, the circles turning to nonsensical designs.

I shifted, my thighs rubbing together as nerve endings sparked to life. But it didn’t help. An ache had rooted itself inside me, and there was a desperate edge to it.

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