Page 62 of When We Break

“Excellent. Another deep breath for me.”

He’s really good at this. At calming me down.

“Look in my eyes, Skyla.”

Following his orders, I gaze into his eyes, and feel my heart start to slow down just as my eyes fill with tears.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Beck takes my face in his hands and leans in to press his lips to my cheek, simply holding me there. “It’s okay.”

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“Shh. No, Irish. Don’t be. You already told me about this. You’re doing so great.”

“I’m a fecking mess.”

“You’re gorgeous.” He brushes his fingers through my hair and tips his forehead against mine. “Take another deep breath.”

We do it together, sucking in a long breath, and when I exhale it all out, I’m no longer shaking.

I rub Riley and hold him against me in a hug as Beckett pulls back just a bit.

“You’re a good boy.” I kiss Riley’s cheek and rub his sides, and he calms down, too.

“I’m getting a fucking generator,” Beckett says, his voice a little harder now that I’m calming down.

“You don’t have to?—”

“It’s happening.” He shakes his head, and when Riley moves off my lap, Beckett pulls me into his, holding me tight. “I’m so sorry you were scared.”

“It’s not your fault.” Brushing my fingertips through his whiskers, I kiss him gently, feeling like I need to soothe him the way he is me. “It’s my own PTSD from a terrifying, life-altering night, Beck. This was not as bad as it could have been.”

His eyes close as he wraps his arms tightly around me and holds me to him in a hug that has me calming.

The way this man touches me is extraordinary. We’ve only just started seeing each other, yet I feel so connected to him, I can’t imagine not being here like this.

Is it love at first sight? Is it just sexual chemistry? I have no idea, but I’m thankful. Few men would do what Beckett just did. Few men would know how to reach someone in the middle of a panic attack.

Few men are like Beckett Blackwell.

“Okay, we can’t watch TV,” Beck says as he kisses my neck. “I’ll read to you if you want. Did you bring a paperback or one of those doodads with e-books on them?”

Pulling back, I stare at him in surprise. “You will?”

“Sure. Why not?”

A thrill zips up my spine, and I bite my lip in anticipation. “Wow, okay. You’re going toread to me?”

“Don’t look now, but I think that turns you on, Irish.”

“Oh, it absolutely, without a doubt, turns me on. I did bring my Kindle, and it’s upstairs in my bag.”

He kisses me before setting me on the couch, and then he’s jogging through the house and up the stairs, and I have to take a second to pull in another deep breath. The candles make the room look romantic, with the flicker of the flames, and now it doesn’t seem scary at all. It feels sweet and soft, and with the promise of Beckett reading me a spicy book, I’m completely content.

I hear his footsteps coming down the stairs, and he returns with the device in his hand. He turns it over and grins at the back.

“Beg, Baby Girl,” he says, reading one of the stickers aloud, and then raises an eyebrow and looks up at me.

Pressing my lips together, I shrug. “I told you I like spicy books.”

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