Nolan (Dangerous Doms 3)

I try to take another breath, but my chest feels as if someone’s sitting on it. With my wrists restrained and my legs spread apart like this, I can’t do a damn thing to move from this position, to draw a deeper breath, to quell the rising panic.

A sob rises in my chest and I scream a second time. “Nolan!”

I close my eyes when panic darkens my vision.

I can’t breathe. I can’t draw in breath. My lungs are constricted, my need to breathe instant and terrifying.

I’m a little girl again, trapped in a closet while my mother fucks her boyfriend. She’s punishing me for being stupid, in this dark and dank room. I can hear the baby crying in the other room, a sick cacophony that clashes with the grunts and moans on the other side of this door.

I can’t open the door. I can’t get the baby. She’s kept me in here to silence me, but I will not be silent. One day I will escape from here and I will never be silent again.

I’m sobbing, tears falling freely down my cheeks, so caught in my misery and panic that I don’t even hear him entering the room until I feel strong arms on my wrists.

“Easy, lass,” he says. “For Christ’s sake, you’ve worked yourself into a feckin’ frenzy. Take a deep breath and relax.”

I try but the air’s too thick or my mouth won’t open, I don’t know, but I can’t. He removes my restraints, and for one brief moment, I remember. Back at The Craic, the night I was abducted and he and the others saved me. How he wrapped me in a blanket and took me to safety. It was the one and only time I’ve ever seen tenderness from Nolan McCarthy, and I’ve not forgotten it.

“I—I can’t,” I gasp, trying to catch a breath.

After my wrists are free, he goes to my ankles next and unfastens those. When I’m finally free, I don’t flee. I curl up in a ball, gasping for breath. He climbs up in bed beside me.

“Shh, now.” He’s holding me, naked and trembling, to his chest.

“Sheena. Easy, doll. What the hell happened? I was only out of the room for a minute.”

But I still can’t breathe.

He spins me over to look at him, his strong hand cupping my face to hold my gaze.

“Are you having an asthma attack?”

I shake my head.

“Do I need to call the doctor?”

I shake my head harder. “No,” I gasp. “No doctor. Panic.”

Understanding dawns quickly, and he nods.

“Okay, Sheena. Look at my eyes.” His voice grows stern and commanding, and I instinctively obey. “Now. Do what I do.”

He draws in a deep, steadying breath, then lets it out. I can’t breathe on my own, but when he does this, I can imitate him. I hold his gaze and draw in a deep breath. Cool air fills my lungs and the haze of panic begins to ebb away.

“Good girl,” he says softly. “Just like that. Again, now.” He draws in a huge breath again, his shoulders rising, and again, I imitate him.

I do it again and again, until I’m breathing freely.

“There, now,” he says. “Better.”

My hair’s plastered to my forehead, my whole body dotted in a fine sheen of perspiration.

I try to put my wall up, to defend myself against the rush of emotion and relief. I don’t need to see the tender side of Nolan McCarthy again, goddammit.

If I do, I might lose control.

All this work, all this effort to get here, to follow my script and find my answers, vanishes when I devolve into a sobbing fucking mess. I’m so angry with myself I could scream.

Once I’m breathing freely, he holds me at arm’s length and gives me a serious look, his eyes probing and sober.

“Y’alright?”

I look away. I don’t want him to see the devastation I can’t hide, how stupid and foolish I am for showing weakness.

I take in one breath, let it out, then take in another, steadying my nerves.

I nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He’s still guarded, on edge, as if he’s waiting to see if I’m fooling him. Hell, I don’t blame him. I’ve feigned panic attacks before to get something I needed, and I’d do it again. Big, strong men like him enjoy being the protector, and I know how to play that.

I’m not playing now, though, and a part of me wonders if I’m the girl who cried wolf. If I keep manipulating him, will he ever really trust me?

Do I want him to?

He sits up in bed and releases me, watching how I react. I reach for the duvet, grab the corner, and pull it over myself. I feel so wildly exposed, and I don’t like it. Minutes ago I was restrained and naked and it didn’t bother me like being bared to him does now.