A Perfect Storm
Page 111

Protecting her. Always thinking of her.
Caring for her.
Damn it, emotion got a stranglehold on her.
He took several deep breaths, kissed her neck, her mouth again, and looked at her. “You’re okay?”
Eyes closed, she nodded.
Spencer brushed her hair away, smoothed her eyebrows with his thumb. “I want you to look at me, honey. I need to see that you’re okay.”
But she couldn’t do that.
Tears burned her eyes, and she didn’t want him to misunderstand.
“Arizona?” Soft, insistent, he said again, “Look at me, honey.”
Instead, she wrapped her arms tight around him and squeezed to keep him close. “I never cried before meeting you.”
He didn’t ask her not to cry. He said nothing at all.
He just held her as he rolled to his side, tucking her in close, surrounding her with his heat, his size, his affection.
And to her mortification, it all boiled over. She heard the first sob and wanted to die. But the second sob came, too, and then more, until she was soaking his chest and shaking with racking sobs.
Somehow Spencer sat up and, holding her close in his arms, put his back against the headboard. He did her a solid by turning off the bright bedside lamp, leaving them with only the intrusion of the hall light. He pulled the sheet up and over them, one hand fisted in her hair, rocking her gently.
And he kissed her forehead, her ear, the top of her head while stroking her back, her hip, and hugging her.
Over and over again.
“God, this sucks,” she complained around a hiccupping wail.
“Not with me,” he said softly. “I’m special, remember?”
She laughed and buried her face against his throat to cry some more. Yeah, he was special, all right. So special that it was killing her, when nothing else had.
Finally, after what felt like forever, her breathing evened, and the wave of turbulence passed. Spencer shifted, reaching out, and came back with a tissue box. He offered it to her in silence.
After she’d cleaned up her face, she felt too foolish for words. “I’d apologize—”
“But you don’t need to.” He squeezed her…protectively. “Not with me. Ever.”
“I figured.” She snuggled in again and sighed. Her thoughts ran this way and that, but she couldn’t seem to nail them down. “I guess you’re getting tired?”
“No.”
“Me, either.” Against her ni**les, she felt his sexy chest hair and the reassuring thump of his strong heartbeat. “Or are you just saying that, because you don’t want to interrupt my crying jag?”
“No.” He looked down at her. “And you’re not crying anymore anyway.”
“Pretty repulsive, huh?”
“No. Not ever.” He squeezed her. “And don’t say things like that. It pisses me off.”
“You cursed.”
Shrugging, he said, “And you cried. So we’re both human.”
Was that how he saw her excess of emotion? As just being human? “Well, I feel dumb.”
“Please, don’t.”
She frowned at him. His short replies were starting to bug her. “Not feeling real chatty?”
“I’m just enjoying holding you.”
Had to be a joke, right? Was that really how he felt? He wasn’t disgusted, wasn’t uncomfortable—
“Whatever you’re thinking, Arizona, you’re wrong.” He brought her face up and pressed his mouth to hers. “I’m glad that I was the one here with you, not anyone else. And I’m humbled, because you trust me that much.”
Trust, huh? Okay, so maybe it did have to do with trust. But it also had to do with knowing that tonight might be her last night with him. “So…” She traced a fingertip over his throat. “Do you feel up to a shower?”
“Sure.”
“And then maybe…” She cleared her throat. “This is awkward. I mean, after me bawling and all.”
His smile touched her forehead. “You want me again, baby?”
Perceptive men were so sexy. “Yup, that’s about it.”
With no effort at all, he left the bed while still holding her in his arms. “I’ll need an hour or so. But I figure it’ll take me that long just to kiss you all over, so we should be good to go.”
And he called her diabolical?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THE SECOND HE AWOKE, even before he got his heavy eyes open, Spencer knew she was gone. It hit him like a tsunami of ice water.
The bed, the house, the very air felt empty.
Arizona’s vitality, the energy that surrounded her even while she slept—all gone. The void left him feeling empty, too.
He sat up and checked the time. Only nine o’clock. They’d stayed up well into the night making love, and he’d gone to sleep with her wrapped around him.
Her eyes had still been swollen from crying. Her nose still pink.
Damn it, she should have been exhausted, and instead, she’d used his exhaustion to sneak out on him. In fact…had that been her plan all along? Had she insisted on the excesses just to wear him out?
Or maybe to get her fill before leaving him?
“Jesus.” Her departure could only mean one thing: trouble. He snatched up his cell phone from the end table and punched in her number—but he didn’t get an answer, and he wasn’t surprised by that. He tried her other number. Still nothing.