Page 160 of Waiting Game

I preen. “It’s good that you know how this’ll work.”

Her lips curve as she stands on tiptoe to press a kiss to my lips. “I heard your little chitchat with the butler.”

“Huh?”Innocence is my middle name.

“The ‘Mrs. Korhonen’ part.”

I arch a brow at her in a silent demand to continue.

“You didn’t correct him.”

Just call me cherub.

“You, in fact, looked pleased that he called me that.”

Ah, hell. I wasn’t made to be an angel.

Allowing my hands to slide down to her ass, I draw her into me so that she can feel my erection. “That’s how pleased I am.”

She swallows, but it’s how her pupils turn to pinpricks that has me hiding a smug smile.

“It’s too soon for any of this kind of talk.”

“Nah.”

Her head rocks forward. “It is. But I feel it too, Cole. This is nuts.”

“Deez nuts.”

She rears back to scowl at me. “Be serious! I’m having a meltdown here. I’m standing in a gazillion-dollars-a-night suite with a man who makes me think about stuff I stopped believing in when my mom and dad died, and it’s both terrifying and?—”

That’s whenshescares the shit out ofme.

Mia starts gulping down air like it’s being rationed and her hand cups her throat. For a second, I watch her, certain that she’s pulling my leg or something, but then she fights free of my embrace, flops at the waist, and starts gasping.

“What the hell?” I bend over so that I can see her face. “Do you have asthma?!”

Her cheeks are bright pink but her eyes are terrified.

Then, I remember that text chat we had weeks ago, back when I was Kor to her.

She said she dealt with panic attacks.

Unsure if I should be offended that the idea of being with me triggers one, I focus on getting her into a sitting position.

I hustle her around, something she permits because she’s used to it after our daily sessions at the rink, and I get her to settle in the corner.

It might be the worst thing to do for someone who can’t breathe, but it makes sense to me and she doesn’t argue.

Then, encouraging her to raise her knees, I roll her forward so that she can dangle her head between them.

Slowly, I stroke my hand along her back. “Just breathe, baby. Breathe.”

Gradually, she does, and the panic lessens. Sniffling, she turns into my side. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“I think I should be the embarrassed one.” I keep my tone gentle and maintain the slow passage of my hand down her spine. “The idea of being with me triggered that!”

“I can’t be like my dad and you fit too well.”

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