Page 23 of Anders and the Girl Worth Fighting For
I didn’t want to wake her, but I knew she would get a kink in her neck if I let her sleep on the couch with her head pillowed at a bad angle on my arm. So I shook her gently, hoping not to startle her.
“Grace, there’s a bed here,” I whispered. “I think you would be more comfortable in it instead of squished on the couch.” I brushed another piece of her unruly hair off her face. My fingers glided ever so softly against her full cheek. She stirred and then settled closer to me, curled into the space under my arm. My chest tightened at the obvious trust she had in me. A primal part of me roared its satisfaction that I could provide safety for this woman.
I tried again to wake her and again she just snuggled closer to me. A vision came to me of us in bed, half asleep with pleasure, her curled in tight to my side, with her head resting on my shoulder, and nowhere we needed to be. The picture was so clear and perfect that I ached for it to be true. Maybe when this was all over, maybe then I could see where things might lead.
As much as I wanted to hold her all night, I didn’t think she would appreciate waking up sore after such a long day. I carefully extracted myself from her and turned to pick her up and carry her to the room. Her weight settled in my arms like I was born to carry this woman. She wasn’t exactly light, she was a fully grown adult, but the way she settled in my arms negated any potential struggle.
“Anders?” she asked as she woke slightly just after I picked her up. “What’s going on?” In my efforts to pick her up, her hair had finally broken free of its bindings and draped itself over my arm.
“I’m carrying you to bed,” I answered, my voice a whisper in the quiet, as if speaking too loud would break the spell I had fallen under. “Obviously.”
“Oh, no. I can walk.” She tried for a moment to get out of my arms, but I just tightened them around her, not willing to let her go just yet. “I’m too heavy.”
“Light as a feather,” I assured her.
“Liar.”
She settled back into my arms anyway, seemingly as unwilling to be free of my arms as I was to put her down.
We made it to the bed all too quickly, and I set her down. I couldn’t figure out how to cover her in the blanket while she was on top of it, so I just pulled the opposite corner over and wrapped her up.
“Thank you,” she whispered one last time before her breathing evened out and she was fully asleep once more. I pressed a kiss to her forehead. My lips burned at the contact.
I stood there too long watching her settle in to sleep, itching to crawl into bed with her, feel her curl into me, hear her soft cries as I—
Get it together, Marine.
I swallowed back my ache for her, turned on my heels, andmarched from the room, heading straight for the kitchen to grab a glass of water. I’d considered dumping it on my head just the get fucking control of myself, but settled for guzzling it instead. The cold liquid shocked my system enough to bring me back to the reality where she needed my help and not me pawing at her at the first opportunity.
I pulled out my phone to email my active clients. I was going to be out of contact for a time and they deserved to know that their consultant was suddenly unavailable.
I only stayed seated for a few moments after I emailed before I had to move again. Sitting here with Grace’s smell still lingering where she sat wasn’t going to do me any good.
I stripped off my shirt, already hot before I even started, and set to a light exercise routine that always calmed me down.
Ten push-ups in and my arms were warmed up. Grace’s golden hair was so fucking soft.
Thirty push-ups and the sweat started beading on my brow. She was so fucking beautiful all sleepy and soft, when the worry lines on her face smoothed and she turned into me for comfort.
At around fifty push-ups, I had calmed the restlessness skittering around inside me. Still, her laughter haunted my every move.
By the time I reached eighty push-ups, my mind cleared, and I could think again. I needed a plan. I needed the next steps to help Grace. As much as the beast inside me would love to keep her here forever, hide her from anyone that would hurt her, anyone that would look at her, that wasn’t going to work out.
A shout from the other room interrupted my thoughts. I had moved onto squats by now and had lost count of them as I tried to work through a plan. I rushed to the other room. My heart picking up more speed from adrenaline and fear. Something happened. Someone got in. She was gone.
She was there. I took a moment to breathe in reliefthat she was here and she was alone. Then I realized what was happening. A nightmare. I’d seen men have horrendous nightmares from what they’d seen and should have expected it after today. The blanket wrapped around one leg like she had tried to kick it away, and she had moved to the very edge of the bed. Her face was drawn in fear.
“Grace,” I said. I wasn’t gentle in waking her this time. “Grace. You’re having a nightmare.” She swung out with her arm and clocked me in the jaw. I smiled, the pain nothing to the pride I felt at her willingness to fight me.
“Grace,” I said, louder this time. I shook her shoulders to wake her. She woke gasping for air.
“NO!” she shouted before she registered the room around her. Her eyes landed on me and let out the air she was gathering for another scream. “Anders. Thank god. That was the worst dream.”
I stayed there, kneeling at her bedside, waiting for more.
“They found me. I never found you and didn’t have help, and they found me.” A shudder went through her and I wrapped my arms around her, gathering her close. She came so willingly that my heart ached.
“I’m here. You found me. I’m here.” I kept repeating the words as I ran my hands over her back, reassuring her that she wasn’t alone.
