Page 93 of Play It Sinful

Jesus, can I have a moment to myself?I don’t say that out loud though. Brian hasn’t done anything wrong besides crashing my girl’s night out. I shouldn’t be so irritated about it. The evening ceased to be girls’ night the moment we stepped into The Heritage.

“How about you get me a drink instead?” I ask.

“Okay. What do you want?”

“Vodka cranberry.”

“You got it.” He kisses my cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

I wait until he disappears into the crowd to head to the restroom. No one asks me where I’m going, and I’m thankful for my friends’ distraction. With every step I take, my chest tightens, and then comes the sinking feeling that I’m about to have a panic attack. Fuck. I haven’t had one in so long.

I’m desperate now to get away from the busiest part of the room, but once I hit the hallway that leads to the restrooms and see the line outside the women’s room, I realize my escape plan was shit. I need fresh air, but turning back and braving the crowd once again will for sure make things worse.

Then I remember the back exit—the one Sean used way back when things weren’t horrible between us. I head toward it and don’t stop until I’m outside, inhaling the crisp, cold January air. A shiver runs down my spine. I’m not wearing my coat, and it’s freezing. I hug myself, rubbing my arms up and down. White smoke forms when I exhale, and my teeth are chattering already. This was a bad idea.

The exit door opens with a bang, scaring the shit out of me. I yelp, pressing my hand against my chest.

“What are you doing out here, Ash? It’s fucking cold.”

Motherfucking Sean.

I open my mouth to reply, but my heart is beating so fast that I can’t get the words out. Shit. I can’t breathe either. Wheezing, I step away from him.

His eyes widen. “What’s happening? Are you… are you having a panic attack?”

I shake my head just to be stubborn. I’m pretty sure it’s obvious that I am. Clue number one, I can’t answer him. Clue number two, I’m tearing up.

“Ash…” He steps into my space and pulls me against his wide chest, wrapping his arms around me.

I want to pull away, but I can’t fight the feeling of comfort I haven’t experienced in three years. Instead of trying to escape, I melt into him, inhaling that addictive cologne I haven’t been able to forget all this time.

“It’s going to be okay.” He runs his hands up and down my back in a soothing motion. “Take deep breathes.”

“I would if you weren’t crushing me.”

“Shit. Sorry.” He steps back, but he doesn’t release me. He spins me around and pulls me flush against his body again. Now my back is flat against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around my waist. “How is that?”

Horrible.Wonderful.

Fuck me.

I don’t answer him, focusing on my breathing instead. He seems content to wait for me to get over my panic attack in silence. But as the seconds go by, I feel how much our proximity is affecting him. His arousal presses against my ass, and his breathing becomes shallow.

“Why did you follow me?” I ask once I’m no longer hyperventilating.

“I was worried about you.”

“You shouldn’t be. I’m not your problem anymore.”

“You were never a problem, Ash. And Iwillbe fucking worried if I want to be.”

I pull free of his embrace and whirl around. “You have no right to be concerned about my wellbeing.”

His brows arch. “Excuse me? So am I supposed to just watch you step into a dark alleyway alone and do nothing?”

I cross my arms. “That’s right.”

“That’s never gonna happen. Get used to me being there for you when you need it.”

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