Page 65 of Ink & Stardust

He takes a shaky breath in, following along. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

My heart aches at the way he’s looking at me. Fear is not the only emotion marring his perfect face. I notice the heat of embarrassment there too as if it were my own. Because I understand what it is to let your panic make you feel like less than a person. To let your vulnerability feel like a weakness. It’s exactly how I felt that night at the party.

“You’re okay,” I reassure him, leaning forward to press my lips softly to his. “You’re okay,” I murmur against his mouth. “Just breathe with me.” I throw a leg over his hips, straddling hiswaist. Thanks to the fact that we never redressed after our last go round, I’m bare against him, and I certainly don’t miss the way his length twitches to life against me. “You’re okay,” I repeat as I kiss him again, sliding my tongue along the seam of his mouth.

If I’ve learned anything from suffering from my own panic attacks, nothing works quite like a distraction. It’s why Kai was able to pull me out of the one that night—he distracted me. Hell, he’s done nothing but distract me since the day I met him. But God, is he the most delicious distraction in the entire freaking world.

I smile against his lips when his hands find my hips, holding me in place so that I can feel every inch of him as he grows against me. This time when I slide my tongue across his lips, he captures it, pulling it into his mouth.

I let out an audible gasp when he flips us abruptly, pinning me beneath the incredible weight of him. He lines himself at my entrance and enters me in one swift motion, causing me to cry out into the silence.

I don’t ask if he’s okay. I don’t try to talk it out or figure out what happened or why. Instead, I give him exactly what he seems to need in this moment...Me.

He kisses me like I’m the air his lungs beg for. Touches me like I’m the soothing balm to his heated flesh. And when he spills his release inside me just a couple of short minutes later, he holds onto me like I’m the only thing tethering him in place, and without me, he’d simply float away.

He lets me take his full weight as he stills, burying his face into my neck. I work soft strokes up and down his back, happy to stay just like this for as long as he wants.

“I’m sorry.” His breath tickles my neck seconds before he rolls off me onto his back.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” I shift to my side so I can look at him.

“It’s been months since I’ve had one of those.” He doesn’t need to elaborate. I know he’s talking about the nightmare and probably also the panic that ensued.

“It’s okay. Everyone has nightmares,” I tell him, my hand sliding across his stomach, tracing the lines of his muscles. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I expect him to say no. I expect him to shut me down and never tell me anythingreal. So when he rolls toward me, pulling me flush into him so that our noses are only a whisper apart, I’m more than a little surprised, especially when his lips part to speak.

“I don’t remember the fire.” His voice is so low that if it were any quieter, it would be a whisper. “Not really. But ever since I was little, I’ve had this recurring dream of being trapped by it. Like my subconscious trying to fill in the gaps. I call for help over and over, but no one comes. The room gets hotter, the smoke thicker. And then I’m pinned beneath falling debris. I can feel the way it melts my skin.” He takes my hand, sliding it up his left arm. “Feel the pain of my flesh blistering.” He guides my fingers further, to a point just at the base of his shoulder that has a deep scar, much different from the others, that wraps the exterior of his arm. “Feel the weight of it disconnecting my flesh from bone.” He rests his hand over mine. “But I’m too weak to get it off me. Too young to know what to do. But I’m not just stuck physically. Mentally, I can’t break free either. I’m trapped there, burning, and I can’t get out.” He closes his eyes for a long moment.

I open my mouth to speak, but no words break the surface. What do I say to that? How could I possibly make this better for him?

“When I finally do wake,” he continues before I can think of a single thing to say, “it takes my brain hours to convince itself it wasn’t real. Sometimes the panic is so intense that I feelphysically sore from it afterward. But you...” He pulls me closer, which is a hard feat, given that there’s not any space between us to begin with. “Thank you for staying.” His lips brush mine in a way that makes my heart constrict in the most painful way, like it’s realizing it can’t hide from this. ThatIcan’t hide from it.

I’m falling for him...

Hell, I’m pretty sure I’ve already fallen.

All I know is that when he pulls back and his blue eyes meet mine, it’s all I can take not to blurt it out loud in hopes that maybe he feels it too.

But I know better... He’s told me so himself.

And yet, this feels so much deeper than physical. The way he looks at me. The way he touches me. The way he says my name. Nothing about the way he is with me says that this is just about sex to him. I just can’t decide if that’s actually true or something I just desperately want to be true even if it isn’t.

“The debris.” I flex my fingers beneath his. “It nearly took your arm.” It’s an educated guess but one I’m fairly certain is right.

“It did.”

“How did... How did you get out?”

“A firefighter found me just minutes before the building collapsed. I was unconscious by that point, not that I would have remembered it even if I wasn’t. The memory is so muddled. Like it’s there, but I can’t quite grasp onto it.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

He releases my hand seconds before his arm slips around my waist, his fingers splaying across my bare back. I gently move my fingers down his tattooed arm, feeling each bump and ripple of the scars he’s tried so desperately to hide.

“Me too,” he softly admits.

“Can I ask you something?”

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