Fragile Sanctuary (Sparrow Falls Book 1)

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. Around my waist. 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 very not innocent against my backside.

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

Anson’s arm tightened around 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.

“You keep moving like that, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

I stilled, swallowing hard. “What if I want a problem?”

Anson’s fingers halted their absent swirling. “Such a temptress.” His hips rolled, pressing into me from behind, his dick nestling between my ass cheeks. “Fuck.”

My breaths came quicker, one after the other in a tempo like sending some sort of Morse code message.

His fingers slipped lower, beneath the fabric of my nightgown, trailing up my thigh. He traced the mottled skin of my scars. Most guys I’d dated had avoided them, not knowing what to say or do, but not Anson. His fingers moved over the raised flesh as if he were memorizing it.

“So fucking strong. Beautiful. Brave.”

His words hit like tiny, beautiful barbs, embedding themselves in my skin. But they were also dangerous, making me want to reach for more with a man I wasn’t sure could give it.

Anson’s fingers skimmed higher, and my lips parted. “Been dreaming of your taste for the last twenty-four hours. Want to drown in it. To burn it into me so it’s all I have on my tongue.”

This time, I whimpered. I was too wrapped up in need to care that it gave me away.

“Gonna give me that taste, Reckless?” His fingers hovered just shy of where I wanted him the most.

“Yes,” I breathed.

Anson closed the distance, but his fingers stilled at the apex of my thighs. “No fuckin’ panties?”

The smallest giggle slipped free. “I don’t wear underwear to bed.”

Anson moved in a flash, his hands going to my hips. He hauled me up and over him until my legs straddled his shoulders. “Grab the headboard.”

“Anson,” I squeaked.

“My reckless girl,” he growled. “Been dying for this. Now, grab the headboard and ride my face.”

My heart skittered and skipped, each beat tumbling over into the next as I gripped the white, wrought iron headboard.

Anson gripped my hips, slowly lowering me to him. Each millimeter twisted every fiber inside me tighter, a rope being spun in circles until it was twisted so tight it might fray in an explosion of need.

His tongue flicked out, barely teasing my flesh, but the groan Anson let loose sent vibrations sweeping through me. That rope twisted tighter, desperate for more, for relief, for him.

“Killing me, Reckless.” Anson’s fingers dug into my hips, pulling me down more.

His tongue teased and toyed, circling the places I needed him the most. My hands gripped the headboard tighter, the metal details biting into my palms. The tip of his tongue grazed my clit, and I couldn’t help the whimper that left my lips.

Anson’s fingers on my hips tightened to the point where I thought they might leave bruises. But something about that had more heat flushing through me—the thought of Anson leaving his mark on me.

“Need more?” Anson growled.

“Yes.” The word tumbled out without restraint.

There was no pretense or warning. Anson’s tongue drove into me, and I cried out. God, it was heaven. Yet hell, too. Because I wanted more. Wanted to know what it would feel like to have all of him.

Anson filling me, stretching me. Taking me over and over.

His tongue curled, and my mouth fell open on a gasp.

He swirled it inside me, and my thighs started to tremble. Each swipe and circle drove me into mountaintop highs and valley lows. My hips moved with him, riding each high and low as if I could read his mind.

Anson’s tongue disappeared, replaced by his hand. But his mouth wasn’t gone for long. That dangerous tongue circled my clit as his fingers pumped in and out of me. But it wasn’t enough. It was a torturous game of almost.

“Please,” I begged.

Anson chuckled against my flesh, his fingers still moving, teasing, thrusting. “Now you know what it’s like, watching you move around in those fucking shorts. Making me dream of having you but knowing I can’t, shouldn’t.”

I let out a growl of frustration. “Looks like you’ve got me now.”

His fingers curled. “You make me break all the rules.”

Anson’s lips closed around that bundle of nerves, sucking deeply as the tip of his tongue worked my clit.

There was no prayer of holding back. As his fingers pressed that spot somewhere deep inside, I shattered. The little pieces of tape and glue I’d used to hold myself together fractured in a heartbeat.

The only thing that existed was feeling. Wave after wave of sensation. I lost myself in it, finally letting go completely.

Just as I thought I was coming down, Anson built me back up. But it was only to let me crash again in a cascade of light and color.

Finally, his ministrations eased, his tongue retreated, and he lifted me from above him. My chest heaved, but it was more. Something had shifted inside me. Something fundamental. As if I’d realized I was still holding back from life in certain ways. But Anson made me want to smash those walls.

He stared at me, his eyes still hazy with lust and need. “One hell of a breakfast.”

I gaped at him, then grinned. I reached for the waistband of his joggers, but then my doorbell rang. I froze.

Anson groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

A laugh bubbled out of me as I scrambled off the bed, grabbing my robe. Biscuit was already barking his head off from the living room.

“Rho,” a voice called.

“That’s Owen,” Anson grumbled as he got out of bed. “Cockblock.”

I glanced down at Anson’s obvious hard-on. “You might want to stay back here, buddy. You could put someone’s eye out with that thing.”

Anson only scowled. “I’m gonna kill him.”

I patted Anson’s chest. “Let’s try to save murder for after seven a.m., okay?”

He didn’t say anything, but I headed for the door. Biscuit was instantly at my side as I pulled my robe on. I scratched his head. “It’s okay. Just a friend.”

Biscuit let out what sounded like a grumble.

I held his collar with one hand and opened the door with the other.

Owen frowned down at Biscuit, his gaze roaming over my robe-covered frame. “Sorry. Did I wake you? You’re usually up and going by this time.”

I did my best not to flush. “Little bit of a later start.”

“Have you seen Anson? His truck’s here, but I can’t find him anywhere.”

I cleared my throat. “He crashed on my couch last night. He’s just grabbing a shower.”

Owen’s expression went blank as he took me in with new eyes. And I knew what he likely saw: the hair a mess, flushed cheeks. Hell. I hoped he didn’t say anything to Shep.

A muscle fluttered in Owen’s jaw. “Right. Well, tell him the rest of the crew is arriving. We’re supposed to start at seven-thirty.”

He turned on his heel and stalked off toward the Victorian.

Biscuit let out a low growl at my side. I tugged him back inside, groaning. Sometimes, knowing just about everyone in your small town was the worst. Shep’s whole crew saw me as a little sister they thought they needed to protect.

I released Biscuit and headed back down the hall to find Anson had, in fact, taken a shower. He was dressed again, a tee pulling tightly across his broad chest—an expanse my fingers itched to roam over. His hair appeared darker in its wet state, and the glower on his face had him looking every inch the avenging angel.

I bit my bottom lip. “How was the shower?”

The scowl deepened. “Cold.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “You could’ve waited for me. I would’ve helped you with your…situation.”

“For the love of God, Rho. Please, don’t talk about my dick before I have to go work with about a dozen guys who are going to wonder why the hell I have a hard-on.”

I only laughed harder. “I’m sorry.”

That scowl shifted to an accusing glare. “You’re not sorry at all.”

I grinned at him. “No. I’m really not.”

Anson moved in a flash, pinning me to the wall and pressing his hips into me. “You’re gonna pay for this, Reckless. I’m going to tease you until you’re begging, pleading. And then maybe, if you’re really good, I’ll fuck you senseless.”

Then, he was gone.

And I was left just as desperate as he was.