Page 145 of Cruel When He Smiles

And I do. His eyes lock on mine, and he drags my hand to his chest, palm open. “Feel my heartbeat and breathe with me, okay?”

I drag a shaky breath in, matching the rise and fall of his chest. He makes it look easy, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “That’s it,” he says quietly, his thumbs rubbing over my knuckles. “You’re okay. I’ve got you, Lover.”

Something inside me cracks so hard, I swear I feel it physically. I don’t know what this is, but I know one thing—he’s the only one who’s ever made it stop with softness.

And that terrifies the hell out of me.

Nate

Liam’sstillnotbreathingright, and it’s starting to piss me off—not at him, but at whatever the hell got him like this. His chest is rising too fast, like every breath costs him, and his hands are gripping his thighs so hard the tendons stand out. His knuckles are white, his jaw’s locked, and he’s just sitting there shaking like he’s not even in the car with me anymore.

And then he mumbles something—low, broken, almost like he doesn’t even realize he’s saying it.

“Not allowed to love—”

It’s barely audible, barely a whisper, but it slams into me—into my chest, into my fucking heart, and I don’t even think before I move.

I shift onto my knees, crawling across the center console, not caring that the space is cramped and the wheel digs into my back, not caring that Liam still looks too far gone, not caring that this is supposed to be his game.

Not tonight. Not right now.

I straddle him, gripping his face between my hands, forcing him to look at me. “Liam.”

He doesn’t respond. His gaze flickers, his pupils blown, his whole body tense, locked up, spiraling, falling into something he can’t stop.

But I can.

I press my forehead against his, forcing a slow, steady inhale and mimicking what he did for me earlier. “Follow me, Lover.”

His breath catches, and his fingers twitch. I drag my hands down to his throat, pressing just enough to make him focus, to make him feel me. “Breathe with me. Right now.”

His jaw tenses, but his next breath follows mine.

Slow.

Controlled.

I do it again, and so does he.

“That’s it,” I murmur, using his own tactics against him. “Good boy, Liam.”

A tremor runs through his body, his hands lifting, hesitating before gripping my waist tight. He’s here now—still spiraling, still crashing, but he’s with me.

“You’re not fucking going anywhere,” I tell him, my voice steady, one hand on his throat and the other on his chin, keeping him locked right here. “I don’t give a fuck what they told you, what they drilled into your head, what they tried to turn you into. You’re mine, Liam. And I decide what you’re allowed to have.”

His breath stutters, his grip on me tightening and it borders on painful.

“Say it.”

He swallows hard. “Nate—”

“Say it, Callahan.”

His throat works beneath my fingers, his hands gripping my hips like he’s holding on for dear life, his eyes still so fucking wide. “I’m here. I’m yours.”

I press a kiss to his temple, dragging my fingers through his hair, and feeling his body finally start to sink. “That’s right, Lover,” I murmur, smirking slightly. “And you’re allowed to love me.”

He shudders, and then he breaks.