Page 132 of Pierce Me

Manuela: I’m scared, Fee.

Faith: Me too.

Manuela: Don’t tell dad.

Faith: He’s not likely to look at social media, is he? He probably won’t find out.

Manuela: I think he already knows that something is going on with her. He’s got that parental instinct.

Faith:Or he’s scared to death after what happened all those years ago.

Manuela: Or that.

twenty-eight

I lean down and capture her mouth with mine. Her arms come around my neck, as if I’m a life buoy and she’s been drowning for hours.

I drop my hand to her waist and pull her closer to me, until there is no space between our bodies. My mouth dips down to I can explore hers, and she opens her mouth, like she used to do, so I can deepen the kiss.

Do I still do it for you?I think as I moan against her lips.

She swoons on me and I grab her hips to steady her as she tries to climb closer to me. She can’t. She is already as close as it gets. She still keeps trying, as if she wants to climb into me. Into my skin.

I breathe into her mouth, and it feels like all the pain and desperation of all the past four years pour out of me and evaporate in that one, chopped breath, swallowed by her perfect lips. She melts against me and I taste the tears on her tongue. My heart breaks. I turn my head around for a second, hoping to catch a sob that rises in my chest before it turns into a sound, and my mouth grazes the juncture between her neck and her shoulder. The feel of her skin against my lips is so familiar. I’ve missed it like a dying man misses air.

She buries her hands in my hair, pressing my face into her neck. Her head comes to rest on top of mine, her forehead brushing my curls. Her hair falls over my mouth and I kiss it. It smells the same, no matter what color it is.

We stay there like that, curled up against each other, me kissing every inch of her skin, her holding on to me for dear life. I take my first real breath in years. And then Pooh starts circling her and yapping at me.

“What is it, man?” I ask him and look down at Eden.

Suddenly, I realize that I can’t feel her chest moving against me anymore. She’s not freaking breathing. Panic grabs me by the throat, and I lift my head from her shoulder to look into her face.

I can’t. Her head is drooping, her chest contracting.

She can’t breathe. She makes small, choking sounds, as if she’s been trying to get in air for a long time, but a boulder is sitting on her chest, stopping the breath from coming in or out.

“Eden?” I whisper.

“Can’t breathe,” she gasps, her voice almost soundless.

I quickly lay her flat on her back on the floor, and Pooh starts licking her hand. “It’s fine, you’re going to be ok,” I murmur, trying not to sound as freaked out as I am.

I am this close to pressing my lips into her mouth and giving her CPR, but before I do that, I just lay my hand flat on her chest and push. I push it in, then I stop the pressure, showing her how to breathe slowly.

“In and out,” I say gently. “In and out. You can do it, in and out.”

I hold her gaze, breathing with her. Reminding her how to breathe. Just as she did for me all those years ago. She takes a shaky breath, then another.

“You’re ok,” I say again, trying to calm my own breathing as well. “The danger is gone. There is no one here. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you ever again.”

But she is still far from ok. Her breaths are coming out choppy, and I can see a sheen of sweat coating her pale forehead. This is so not good.

“It will be all over the news now, my name,” she says shakily. “They will dig up everything, the whole story.”

“The story will be killed. Dead. Do you understand me?” No way am I letting her name get splashed over the news. I don’t care what I have to do. Watch me bring down entire websites just to protect her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, tears coursing down her cheeks. Silent, violent sobs rise to her lips, but they make no sound. What was left of my heart shatters into tiny pieces on the floor between us. “I’m sorry for what I did to you.”

---