Page 174 of Breathe Like Hell

All the words I’d swallowed were slowly killing me.

Pressure released from my wrists and Micah was murmuring praise in my ear. I hadn’t even realized he’d stopped or untied me.

He sat in the chair, pulling me onto his lap, still naked, my hair loose down my back. My backside was so tender I could hardly sit down, but Micah kept his thighs spread enough that there wasn’t any direct contact and I could relax somewhat. He was still hard, maybe even harder than before, but he didn’t do anything about it. I was still crying, but softer now. My body curled into his, relaxed and clinging at the same time. This was the place where I felt safest, but also the place where I knew he could hurt me worst if he chose to.

“I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Micah said, his voice quiet. “You gave me a new purpose. And I really fucking needed that.”

I couldn’t really speak much, so I just kept crying against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and his breathing, feeling expensive fabric against my tear stained cheek.

“I don’t know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. I couldn’t take it.”

I pressed my face against him harder, squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m scared,” I managed to whisper. “That something bad is going to happen to me.”

“I won’t let it.”

“Okay.”

I love you, my heart said with its beats.

Will you let me say it? Will you let me love you?

“I promise, Masters,” he reiterated. “I will keep you safe. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Even though I believed him, his promise couldn’t stop my worrying. The same terrible feeling I’d had for months was always there—the feeling that I would die soon. It lurked around the edges of my thoughts, a dark shape coming out of the recesses of my mind to scare me. I knew now that it wasn’t coming from Aamon, but I wasn’t sure what it came from.

Mason, maybe. My brain understood it before my heart wanted to accept it. I would take my last breath then be pushed below the surface and kept there.

Or something else.

Or maybe this was an intrusive thought. An untrue obsession.

I wasn’t sure. It felt very real to me. But then again, my brain was capable of making ridiculously irrational things feel completely rational.

Micah’s hand stroked up and down my spine gently. I wanted to stitch my lungs to his lungs so he could breathe for me. Crawl under his skin and be held by him forever. I was exhausted, even though I’d just woken up from a nap. The bruises on my backside and the tears on my cheeks were enough to drain my energy again.

Micah pushed back, rolling the chair over towards an armchair in the corner. There was a blanket draped over the arm of the chair, which he grabbed and laid over my body, cocooning me safely against his chest. Then he rolled us back to the desk.

“Do you want to rest like this for a few minutes?”

I nodded.

“I’m going to try and do some work on the computer.”

“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll just be here.”

He chuckled. “Okay. You be there. And tell me if you need more food or water.”

“I will.”

My eyes slid shut.

I love you.

I didn’t say it. I didn’t even move like I might.

But I felt he knew anyway.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE