There with You (Adair Family 2)

She pushed against him as if to get up.

“Stay down,” he panted as he unzipped himself.

Regan trembled beneath him, whimpering. She pushed up again, and he assumed she was arching into him, ready to take him.

Remembering how hotly she reacted to him holding her wrists down in bed, he pressed her back down and shoved his way between her legs.

“No!” she suddenly cried out, pushing forcefully against him. “No!” This time the word broke on a sob.

Her panic was the equivalent of ten buckets of ice over his head and body. Thane released but gently reached for her, her sobs scoring through him. He felt like he had razor blades in his throat as he choked out an anxious, “Mo leannan.”

But Regan shoved at his hands, crying, her face red and streaked with tears.

Thane retreated completely. Regan pushed off the table and ran past him upstairs.

Chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath, pulse racing, Thane tried to figure out what the hell had gone wrong so quickly. He’d been rough with her before—she’d told him she loved it when he lost control. He’d taken her on her hands and knees many times … he’d even held her down.

Thane looked at the table.

Always in bed.

They’d never had sex anywhere but in bed.

Fear churned in his gut.

He’d triggered her.

And someone was going to fucking die if it was for the reason he feared it might be.

* * *

REGAN

Panic clawed at my throat, and I couldn’t catch my breath. The memory had hit like a lightning bolt as soon as Thane pushed me onto the table and told me to stay down. Then the terror was all I felt. It didn’t matter that it was Thane and that I loved him and knew he’d never hurt me. All I could remember was that night in Ho Chi Minh City a year ago. A night I’d buried so deep inside, I’d forgotten about it.

Sobbing in the guest-room bathroom, I couldn’t get a handle on the violent heaving of my chest, and while no more tears fell, I couldn’t catch my breath. The more I panicked about it, the worse it got. Oh my God, I was going to die.

I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die. Tears blurred my vision.

“Regan, breathe.” Suddenly Thane was on his knees before me. “You’re hyperventilating, mo leannan. Cup your hands.”

I heaved for breath, staring at him, unfocused, confused.

He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Like this. Try to concentrate on breathing slowly into your hands. Look at me.”

Hands shaking, I watched him as he took slow breaths in and out. A calm filtered through the chaos in my head, and I mimicked him. Eventually my breathing calmed, and the terror dissipated.

But the reality remained.

All that I’d buried, deep, deep within … it wasn’t buried anymore. And there was no escaping it because I could tell looking into Thane’s sad, worried eyes that he knew. Exhausted, I crawled toward him and rested my head on his chest.

His arms came around me as he sighed with relief.

He then lifted me off the bathroom floor. Looping my arms around his neck, I let him carry me into the bedroom.

“Okay?” he asked before settling us on it.

Tormented that he felt he had to ask, I sucked back more tears and nodded.

He laid back against the pillows and pulled me into his arms, and I snuggled into his chest. “I’m sorry.” His words were rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I shook my head as I met his eyes. “Don’t. You did nothing differently from what we’ve done before.”

Thane’s eyes narrowed. “It was the table, wasn’t it?”

I flinched as an image hit, my face pressed to the sideboard in that hotel room in Vietnam. Focusing on Thane’s eyes, I admitted, “Yes.”

Distress ravaged his features and he choked out, “Did someone rape you, Regan?”

A tear slipped down my cheek as I curled a fist into his shirt. “Almost.”

Thane’s eyes brightened with sadness, but rage too. “Was it him?”

I nodded, and every time I blinked, another tear fell.

26

Regan

Ho Chi Minh City

Last New Year’s Eve

District 3 was loud with music, voices, laughter, screams, and drunken revelry. We were delighted when we discovered the Vietnamese celebrated the Gregorian New Year. None of us wanted to miss it. Now I wished more than ever I’d gone back home to Boston to celebrate with Robyn and Mom and Dad. Instead, I’d stayed and made a mess of everything.

Western New Year was over, but with Lunar New Year upcoming on February 1, the city was still bright with color and celebration. I stared forlornly down at the streets filled with people and lights and lanterns. Vietnam knew how to celebrate in style. I’d never seen anything like it. The lights that hung from the buildings and lampposts and wound around the trees were on par with the most impressive Christmas displays. The lights on the street below looked like bright pink flowers and golden birds, while streams of fairy lights sparkled between them. It was truly something.