Page 33 of Not Your Shoe Size

It was the ugliest thing Ty had ever said to her. It hurt a little to say it, but Kate moaned and rocked and then she came. Her inner muscles gripped him, turning hell into an upside-down heaven.

“Please stop,” she asked in a voice begging for the opposite. “Stop!”

“We’re not done here.” Ty worked his thumb into her asshole, feeling her tighten to a dizzying degree as he fucked her. He was close now and he wanted to come. He closed his eyes as he slid deep, remembering how she’d looked when she first came into the Airbnb, fresh and pale. Light built in his lower body and then he came, his ears ringing, his teeth bared. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Kate slumped forward as Ty shuddered and shook. He swiped the sweat from his forehead, a little relieved it was over. “How was that, baby?”

She nodded, raising a palm a little.

Ty laughed. “Not bad, huh? I hope you didn’t mind me saying you taste like cock, that came to me as a dick thing to say. You know I don’t give a shit about—”

He stopped dead. Kate wasn’t laughing or relaxing. She’d made no move to clean up or even stand. Her shoulders were shaking and he realised with a rush of horror that she was still crying.

Ty leaned over, pulling her back into his arms. “Kate? Katie, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head, her whole body racked with sobs.

“Middleton!” Ty threw himself into the chair and bundled her against his chest, holding all of her as closely as he could. He felt his come spilling onto his pants, but he only held her tighter. Kate was cold, her breathing a hard rattle.

“Ty...”

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

But he already knew; Kate was having a panic attack. He rubbed her back, fighting the acidic terror rising from his gut. He was drunk, too drunk to drive if she needed to go to the hospital. Why had he spent the afternoon pounding whiskey he didn’t even fucking want?

Think about that later, fuckhead. Focus.

“Middleton. Count your exhales for me. One. Two. Three...”

“I…can’t…” she wheezed.

Not great, but she’d answered him. Ty kissed her cold forehead. “It’ll be hard, but you can do it if you focus. Just breathe and count with me.”

But her panting merely sped up. Her pupils shrank and the colour drained from her face. Ty remembered the last time he’d been in this position, watching a plumber lose his shit on his lawn as his multimillion-dollar home burned. He gripped Kate’s arm as hard as he’d gripped the arm of that plumber. “Look at me.”

Kate’s gaze found his, blank and helpless.

“Answer these questions as soon as I ask them,” he said, keeping the threat in his voice. “What’s something you can feel? Anywhere on your body?”

Kate blinked. “Your…knees…”

“What else?”

Her hands rose, gesturing to her neck. “My dress…”

“Good. Good girl.” Ty smoothed a hand through her hair. “What can you smell?”

“I don’t know.” Kate’s panting picked up. “I don’t know.”

Ty’s heart ached, but he kept his grip tight and his gaze stern. “It’s not a trick question. What can you smell?”

A shaky inhale through her nose. “The chair leather...whiskey.”

“What else?”

“New paint on the walls.”

“That’s good.” The colour was returning to Kate’s lips, and there was little focus in her eyes. Her breathing was regulating. He picked up the TV remote. “What’s this?”

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