Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
I bolt upright in bed. What’s that noise? “Feck, where’s my bloody phone?”
There’s no light. I can’t see my hand in front of my face, and I am not okay. I. Need. Light.
Is someone in my apartment?
“It’s okay, Irish,” Beckett says, keeping his voice calm. “I’m grabbing candles right now. Take a deep breath.”
But I can’t. I can’t fecking breathe, and I need lights. I need to be able to see.
Someone is there with me. Hovering in the darkness. Oh God, someone is here. That scent. I know that cologne.
“Hey, talk to me,” Beck says. I wish I could see him.
“Can’t.” I try to suck in air. Riley whines and shoves his head in my chest.
Finally, there’s the flicker of a lighter, and a candle is lit. Beckett lights at least half a dozen more and sets them around the room, casting a soft glow, and then crosses back to me and sits beside me, but he doesn’t pull me to him. He takes my hand in his, squeezing it tight.
“I need you to breathe, Irish.” His eyes are pinned to mine, and he takes a deep inhale. I know I’m supposed to mimic him, but my lungs just don’t want to fill. “Tell me three things you see, Skyla.”
I frown but look around. “The pillow.”
“Good.”
I lick my lips. “That plant.”
“One more.” He’s rubbing his free hand up and down my arm.
“A book.”
“Good. Three things you can feel.”
“Scared.”
“No, baby, physical things. Do you feel the couch under you?”
I swallow hard and nod. “The couch. Riley shaking. Your hands.”
“Good girl.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. “Breathe, baby. Take a deep breath for me, okay?”
Finally, I’m able to fill my lungs with a shaky breath.
“That’s my girl. Tell me three things you can hear.”
I close my eyes and listen. “The wicks burning in the candles. The wind outside. Oh God, is that why the power is out?”
“One more thing, beautiful girl. Tell me one more thing.”
“Your voice.”
“Excellent. Another deep breath for me.”
He’s really good at this. At calming me down.
“Look in my eyes, Skyla.”
Following his orders, I gaze into his eyes, and feel my heart start to slow down just as my eyes fill with tears.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Beck takes my face in his hands and leans in to press his lips to my cheek, simply holding me there. “It’s okay.”
“I’m so embarrassed.”
“Shh. No, Irish. Don’t be. You already told me about this. You’re doing so great.”
“I’m a fecking mess.”
“You’re gorgeous.” He brushes his fingers through my hair and tips his forehead against mine. “Take another deep breath.”
We do it together, sucking in a long breath, and when I exhale it all out, I’m no longer shaking.
I rub Riley and hold him against me in a hug as Beckett pulls back just a bit.
“You’re a good boy.” I kiss Riley’s cheek and rub his sides, and he calms down, too.
“I’m getting a fucking generator,” Beckett says, his voice a little harder now that I’m calming down.
“You don’t have to—”
“It’s happening.” He shakes his head, and when Riley moves off my lap, Beckett pulls me into his, holding me tight. “I’m so sorry you were scared.”
“It’s not your fault.” Brushing my fingertips through his whiskers, I kiss him gently, feeling like I need to soothe him the way he is me. “It’s my own PTSD from a terrifying, life-altering night, Beck. This was not as bad as it could have been.”
His eyes close as he wraps his arms tightly around me and holds me to him in a hug that has me calming.
The way this man touches me is extraordinary. We’ve only just started seeing each other, yet I feel so connected to him, I can’t imagine not being here like this.
Is it love at first sight? Is it just sexual chemistry? I have no idea, but I’m thankful. Few men would do what Beckett just did. Few men would know how to reach someone in the middle of a panic attack.
Few men are like Beckett Blackwell.
“Okay, we can’t watch TV,” Beck says as he kisses my neck. “I’ll read to you if you want. Did you bring a paperback or one of those doodads with e-books on them?”
Pulling back, I stare at him in surprise. “You will?”
“Sure. Why not?”
A thrill zips up my spine, and I bite my lip in anticipation. “Wow, okay. You’re going to read to me?”
“Don’t look now, but I think that turns you on, Irish.”
“Oh, it absolutely, without a doubt, turns me on. I did bring my Kindle, and it’s upstairs in my bag.”
He kisses me before setting me on the couch, and then he’s jogging through the house and up the stairs, and I have to take a second to pull in another deep breath. The candles make the room look romantic, with the flicker of the flames, and now it doesn’t seem scary at all. It feels sweet and soft, and with the promise of Beckett reading me a spicy book, I’m completely content.