Page 18 of Finding Emotion

The staff member came back out a short time later, and Damon remembered to tip him.

“Oh, I set your gift on your bed, just like it was in your room,” the guy said with a nod as he rolled the cart back to the elevator.

Silence was left behind after the doors swooshed shut. Damon forced his feet to move. The white box was the least aggressive thing he’d seen from his fan in a while, but it still made his stomach twist.

Inside was something that made little sense at first. Then Damon remembered Skylar had referred to him as a cinnamon bun during the interview. The icing had melted a little, but even hours-old, the treat should have appeared appetizing. It didn’t. He wouldn’t want one for a long time.

On the upper flap was the crazed fan’s typical signature: ‘My match.’ But lower, written in the same red, were new words: ‘Not hers.’

His pulse thrummed in his throat. In all the hoopla, he hadn’t considered the possibility that the crazed fan would care about Skylar being linked to his name. His hand shook as he closed the flap, making him feel just as weak as everyone thought.

Chapter 10

Skylar’s legs shook as she pushed herself to keep running. The slap of her sneakers on the treadmill filled the room. Her arms pumped as she ran, and she was glad no one else in the hotel had bothered to work out since she was likely flailing like an idiot. She kept the speed up until her breath was panting and sweat dripped down her back. She flinched as remembered laughter filled her ears and the ghostly fingers of the memory slid over her, making her legs clench and fumble.

The safety cord popped out before her chest landed on the slowing treadmill. At least the breath knocking out of her stopped her panting momentarily. When she managed to push herself upright, the breathy gasps had already returned, filling her ears as a broken cry escaped her lips. She scrambled backward, her progress stopped by the nearby wall. Her heart pounded in her chest as the vise gripped her head.

She gave in to it, her arms coming up to press against her ears as she clutched the back of her head. The panting almost sounded like a sob now, and she clamped her lips together to keep the noise within. Her body throbbed from the fall and from just being the treacherous bitch it was. She curled tighter around herself. The panic attack had been coming no matter what. Trying to outrun it had been useless.

The thought made her feel even more out of control as her heart and head pounded and her throat tightened enough that she didn’t have to worry about letting out any broken sounds. Within, everything was loud, from the screaming in her head to the thrumming of her pulse. The vision in her head sucked her in.

“Hey, let me up!” Her own voice cried out in the memory. Through the drug-induced fog, she became aware of the person grunting on top of her. The fucker grinned down at her as he rolled his hips, thrusting his dick deeper inside her.

Skylar tried to hit him, but someone else caught her hands. Jack shifted forward to hold her shoulders down, kneeling on her struggling arms.

“Jack, get your friend the fuck off me.” The thrusts were hurting. On top of it, sharp tingles like razor blades whispered over her body as she came down from her high. Whatever they had laced the ecstasy with was making her want to crawl out of her goddamn skin.

“You know you love it, Skylar.” Jack’s face held no smile as he glared down at her. “The threesome the other day was all your idea, wasn’t it? A gang bang is just the next step.”

She couldn’t remember, not with the grunting above her and her skin crawling. “I said no, dammit.” She twisted her torso, trying to buck the asshole off, which interrupted his thrusts even as he moaned.

“Fuck, I was close,” the asshole said.

“Don’t stop. Just flick her clit a couple of times.” Jack’s laugh added ants to the razor blades. “The slut pops off quick enough. Then she’ll milk you dry.”

Fingers touched her there, sending sparks into her body despite all the pain.

Skylar clenched tighter around herself on the gym floor. Forget, damn it, she cried in her head even as the memory continued to play.

“There she goes.” Jack’s laughter grated in her ears even as her body pulsed around the dick that thrust deep and stilled, ejaculating inside of her. “We’ll have the next guy lick her clit good. A couple of orgasms, and she’ll be fucking dripping and begging for it.”

Skylar’s hands pressed into her head. Forget, forget, forget, she chanted inside. Her body felt like broken glass, the kind that would crack if she curled just a bit tighter.

“Shit. Skylar?” a voice called that wasn’t part of the memory. Hands gripped her shoulders, adding more cracks. She cried out as she tried to hide against the wall.

“Hey, you’ll be okay.” The voice was soft, soothing. “Did you fall off the treadmill? Try to relax so I can check if anything is broken.”

She wanted to laugh at the idea of relaxing, but had to bite her tongue to prevent another sob from escaping. She shook her head as the pounding there intensified under the pressure of her hands.

“Did you hit your head? Here.” Gentle fingers sank into her hair.

They felt familiar and good, which confused the fuck out of her. With each gentle pass, the pounding in her head receded.

“No,” she tried to say, but she couldn’t around the lump in her throat. Her body was responding to the outside stimulus despite what she wanted. Only this didn’t turn her on sexually. No, each soothing pass of those magical fingers made the tension ease instead. Soon she lay limp on the floor, the panic attack mostly gone. All that was left was her racing heart and the rapid pants that always sounded like she was begging for it.

She hated the sound of her breathing.

Damon’s fingers continued to work their magic over her scalp. “S-stop,” she said.

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