Page 40 of Driven Daddy

Gently, he held my shoulders, then he smoothed his hands down my arms, then back up.

“Let’s try a nice slow breath, okay?”

“I can’t.” I gasped as my eyes slitted open.

There he was.

So much darkness around him. It blended into his curls.

But that was from me, from my altered panic-induced vision

Because there were little dots around his face.

“Yes, you can.” He moved one hand to just under my breasts. “Stop.”

I stopped breathing and he pushed against my stomach lightly.

“In. Slowly.”

I fought it. My body wanted to keep it shallow, but he pressed a little firmer until I had no choice.

My lungs filled and the roaring in my head slowly retreated.

“There we go. Again.”

I blew out a slow breath and the tips of his fingers dug lightly into my dress as my diaphragm filled and my lungs did a happy dance at the increase of oxygen.

His dark eyes locked on mine. “You’re doing great. Again.”

I blew out slowly, my breath making his curls dance around his shoulders. “Please tell me there’s no bad breath going on here.”

He grinned. “Peppermints and chocolate. Did you sneak a York Peppermint Patty out of Colette’s dish?”

I let out a little laugh. “Maybe.”

“Don’t distract me with that husky voice of yours that I was nearly begging for the other day.”

My heart was still racing from the panic attack, but it was pounding fast for a different reason now.

“Breathe in and hold it this time. My therapist made me do this too. Box breathing is a thing, and we’re gonna get you all settled.”

He needed a therapist?

What for?

This time, I did take a long, slow breath without the jitters, and I got hit with whatever cologne he was wearing. Bonfires and fall mixed with something else. Something sweet and alluring.

“Hold it for a count of four-three-two-one. Now let it out.”

Those stupidly long lashes that no man should be allowed to have lowered as his gaze dropped to my lips. Immediately, he bounced back to my eyes.

I wasn’t aware that my hand lifted from the door to rest at his side. The brush of a fine cotton dented my fuzzy brain. Myfingers twisted into the belt loop of his jeans as we did another few rounds of the box breathing.

Something I was well versed in, as well.

Mostly from panicked searching on the internet to find a way to calm my anxiety brain those first few months after Jenelle dusted our relationship.

Because I certainly hadn’t had any input on the decision.

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