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Breathe.
I feel like I did at the showing, when Gage shoved my head between my knees. But he’s not here, he’s puttering around in the kitchen and talking to Baby, and shaking, I sink to the floorat the end of the bed, trying not to throw up simply because I’m wearing my clothes from last night.
Gage finds me, my back pressed against his bed frame, a sheen of sweat covering my skin, my eyes glassy, my whole body trembling. This time he doesn’t keep his distance, and he hurries across his bedroom and kneels in front of me.
“What is it?” he asks, holding my face between his warm hands. He forces me to meet his eyes. “Zarah. What is it?”
I breathe shallowly through my mouth. The scent of coffee usually smells good, but now it churns my stomach. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Anxiety attack. I’ll be okay.”
He crushes me to his chest, and I focus on the soft fabric beneath my cheek. I count backward from fifty and soon my panic gives way to shame, like it always does.
“What triggered it? Me?” Gage asks.
It’s tempting to tell him yes. Yes, he did. Bring me home, don’t see me anymore. I’m so much fucking trouble, I should cut him loose, but my heart can’t do that. Last night he said he was falling in love with me and I admit the same, but I can’t trust my feelings and I can’t tell him. Because of the drugs, he probably wouldn’t believe me anyway. How do I know my own mind?
My only argument is a person doesn't love with their mind, they love with their heart, and my heart has never suffered the damage of Ash’s poison.
“No. Dressing in last night’s clothes.”
Gage is smart and doesn’t need me to clarify.
“You should’ve told me.”
“I didn’t know. My doctor said this stuff could happen. The drugs buried my memories. It’s what Ash wanted. Sometimes a scene, a phrase, an action, will crash through my mind. Zane’s weaning me off these meds as fast as he can, but sometimes the lower dosages cause my memories to burst. It’s not good.”
“You were thinking about the morning after.”
“Yes.”
Gage hauls me into his lap, and I melt into his embrace. It’s so easy to let someone else shoulder the burden, let someone else carry what Ash did to me, but that wouldn’t be right. Zane’s trapped. He feels responsible for what happened. If I can’t move on, neither can he, and I don’t want that for my brother. He didn’t do anything to deserve it.
I need to try harder to do better.
“Keep clothes here,” he murmurs into my hair.
I lift my head. “Really?”
“If you’re comfortable with it, yeah. Then this won’t happen again.”
“You want to keep seeing me, even after last night?”
“Zarah.” He breathes my name, and it sounds so romantic. He lowers his head and waits for me to meet him the rest of the way. I don’t need any coaxing. I nudged the seam of his lips with my tongue, and this time he participates. He tastes like coffee, bitter and smoky, like my past, if I choose to dwell on it. His hands are warm, and he pulls the hem of my blouse up and presses his palm to my skin under my ribs.
His touch lights me on fire. I squirm in his lap, that squishy feeling filling me up, and a pressure builds between my legs. My panties are damp. I know my body is telling me I want sex.
I lay my hand against his neck, the only spot on him that isn’t covered by clothes warm enough to fight the cold outside.
Gage drags in a shuddering breath and mumbles against my lips, “You didn’t do anything, so yes, I still want to see you even after last night. But, if we keep this up, I won’t be able to go to work.”
I wiggle, his hard cock pushing into my thigh. It’s gratifying to me as a woman I can turn him on, but it’s scary because I know what a man is supposed to do with it to feel good.
“Sorry.” I drop my hand.
“Don’t apologize for being sexy, beautiful, and heartbreakingly fragile. You are amazing, Zarah, and you humble me wanting to spend time with me.”
“That’s sweet.” I rub a kiss over cheek. He didn’t shave and his whiskers burn my skin, in a good way. “We better go. I don’t want to be the reason you’re late.”
“Are you okay now?”