With Every Breath (Slow Burn 4)

“Wherever you want,” he said softly. “However you want. I’m here. I’m listening. Whatever you need, I’ll give.”

She leaned her forehead into his chest, resting it there as she simply absorbed everything about him. The way he felt. His scent. The thud of his heartbeat. How safe she felt in his arms. How she wished she’d never gotten that damn phone call weeks ago.

“I told you that I needed to be there today. And why I needed to be there. I told you the truth. I just didn’t tell you the other reason it was so important for me to be there,” she admitted in a whisper.

She held her breath, waiting for his reaction, wondering if he’d be angry because he’d been nothing but honest and blunt with her. Brutally so at times.

To her surprise, he swept her up into his arms in an effortless motion and carried her to the couch. He turned his back and then simply sat down, her cradled on his lap as he leaned back, pulling her with him.

“If we’re going to talk, you’re going to be comfortable and you’re going to be in my arms when you’re talking,” Wade said.

Then he simply arranged her to his liking, tucking her shoulder underneath his so that the top of her head was nestled under the line of his jaw, pressed to the side of his neck.

The fact that his body language, the tone of his voice, hadn’t registered the slightest change after her confession that she’d kept something from him gave her a strong measure of relief and the courage to forge ahead and not fear his reaction.

When had his approval become so important to her? When had it ever mattered to her whether she pissed him off or not? She was still struggling with the abrupt about-face their relationship had experienced and, in the back of her mind, there was a nagging worry that when this was over and she was no longer in danger, things would go back to the way they’d been before when they practiced reluctant tolerance of one another for the sake of their mutual friend.

But then she was far guiltier of being an ungrateful, childish bitch than he was of being an overbearing asshole. She’d never even thanked him for taking a bullet for her. For saving her life. Instead she’d avoided him when at all possible, and when avoidance wasn’t a possibility, she’d been snarky, sarcastic and purposely needled him at every opportunity.

It hadn’t bothered her then. She’d given it little thought. But now it ate at her. Her actions, her behavior and her treatment of this man deeply shamed her.

“You going to share, baby?” Wade asked, interrupting her self-castigation. “Not that I’m complaining about sitting here and just holding you, but you’re obviously upset, and from what I saw and heard, you have cause to be.”

“You watched it?” she asked in a low voice.

“Yeah. Hated that I couldn’t be there watching over my girl so I looked for her by tuning in to the broadcast.”

She curled her fingers into his shirt, wanting, needing to just hold on to him.

“I explained that I’ve worked endlessly to strengthen my mental barriers. And when I told you how he manipulated my mind, you asked if he could still do that. And I said no.”

He gave her a comforting squeeze.

“But I didn’t know that for certain,” she whispered shakily. “How could I? I had once thought to have Gracie try to read my mind to see if I could successfully shut her out, but Thomas was in prison and I thought he would never be a threat to me again and if I asked that of Gracie then I would have had to explain things I’d never shared with anyone and never intended to, so I just let it go but kept working at it. In a way, I think it was a part of my healing process. I was weak and easily manipulated and so desperate to be loved and to belong, and I hated myself for that for a very long time. I still do at times,” she admitted.

“I blamed myself for so many years. So taking steps to make myself believe that I was overcoming what I considered a weakness gave me back some of the power I’d lost. It made me feel protected whether it was true or complete bullshit.”

“Baby, if it gave you even a measure of security, made you feel safer, and especially if it gave you back anything that bastard took from you, then not only is it real, but it obviously provided something you needed. Who gives a shit if it can be scientifically proven? You and I have both witnessed the extraordinary. More than once and in more than one person. Do you think Ramie’s, Ari’s or Gracie’s abilities could ever be scientifically proven? Do you think there is a way to measure their abilities? Ever reproduce them in a lab or an experiment?”

“But it did work,” Eliza breathed, her fingers tightening into a ball, wadding his shirt in her grasp, pulling it taut across his chest.

Wade went still and then he gently pried her hand from his shirt and circled her wrist with his fingers, pulling her from the crook of his shoulder and positioning her so she straddled his lap facing him.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, his brows drawing together in a mixture of confusion and concern.

“I purposely positioned myself in front of the podium so Thomas would see me. Because I knew that when he saw me, he would attempt to manipulate me. He would want to reestablish my love and adoration for him and the desire to go anywhere with him. And I had to know, before this mission went any further, if I was strong enough to block him. I was so afraid, Wade,” she admitted painfully. “I was terrified that I have been fooling myself so I didn’t have to admit how weak and powerless I was.”

The ache in her head, the residual effects of Thomas’s forceful attack, intensified just remembering it. She went silent and leaned in to Wade, resting her forehead against his lips, needing that contact, needing the soothing comfort and unconditional support he gave so readily.

His hand went to the back of her head and gently massaged, nearly making her moan at the brief respite from the pain the simple stroke of his hand gave her.

He gave her another few moments, as if realizing how much she needed them. Just a few to collect herself before she continued. Finally, she lifted her head and met his gaze, suddenly bereft and hollow at the loss of that contact.

“So he tried,” Wade said grimly.

“He didn’t see me right away. He’d begun his ridiculous spiel, but I knew the instant he noticed me. I felt his eyes on me.”

She shuddered, chill bumps appearing on her arms. Wade slid his hands over her arms, chasing the chill away as he rubbed up and down.