Breathe for Me

chapter Nine





Darkness surrounded her. She couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. But she had to try. She had to keep trying. Diving deeper into the darkness, fumbling to find him. To help. But she was useless. Useless against the weight, the lack of light, the burning instinct pushing her to the surface…

She woke—gulping in a deep breath, her lungs screaming to burst. But she wasn’t screaming aloud. She’d not been able to scream. It had all been blocked inside. Her screams had only sounded in her head.

Wide-eyed she stared in front of her, her fingers twisting on the sheet at her side.

Light. It was light.

Reality—the day—flashed back. Her decision to work from home. Lunch. Xander.

She flinched again, then froze. He was right behind her—a furnace of heat and hardness. Oh hell. A different panic washed over her. Please, please let him still be asleep. Please don’t let him have woken when she’d stiffened as she’d woken. She didn’t want to admit to the nightmare, definitely didn’t want him to think she was a total nutjob.

She listened, holding her breath again so she could hear. His breathing was regular and smooth but his arm banding across her ribs tightened infinitesimally. It was such a slight increase in pressure she wasn’t sure if it actually happened or not. She remained as still as she could, but his warmth and evenness slowly seeped into her again. Relief swept through her as she recognized his relaxation. He hadn’t woken. Her vulnerability remained hidden. He wouldn’t know, wouldn’t ask. And she was cocooned in an embrace. Alive and, for once, not alone. She covered his strong forearm with her hand. The demons driven away by the light, by company.

But inside the torment remained. It might have been a dream today, but that night all those months ago, it had been real. And while she was safe now, the man she’d loved then, wasn’t.



Xander counted, keeping his breathing regular, even, deep. Some nightmare she’d just had. She hadn’t cried out, hadn’t thrashed around the bed and punched him by accident or anything. Instead she’d curled into even more of a ball, shaking like some terrified kitten, her entire body twisted in an expression of raw pain. Agony.

Her jaw had clamped shut and she’d seemed to contract in on herself until it was too much and she could hold it in no longer. She’d woken with a harsh gasp, as if she’d not breathed fresh air in eons.

He’d felt her shock as she’d stiffened. Then she’d caught herself and gone completely silent—catching her breath again, he’d almost been able to see her listening for his breathing. She hadn’t wanted him to know.

He could understand that. He’d never wanted anyone to know the fears that had once made him hide. So he feigned sleep now with regular, deep breaths, working hard to keep his body relaxed. Eventually she settled again, resting her hand on his arm, keeping it tight about her. Only then did she relax, finally falling asleep again.

While he lay awake.

He knew nightmares. He knew the extreme vulnerability those first few seconds upon waking, just before you realized it had been a dream and that you were safe after all. For years he’d had dreams like that—too many to count. Trapped in icy dread, fear, futility. He knew what it was like to hide and hold your breath until your lungs burned, for fear of being heard.

You can’t leave me. You’ll never get away from me. You and the brat. You’re mine.

Always he’d woken covered in horrible cold sweat and with a racing heart that took too long to settle. He mightn’t have had one like that in while, but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember. Some things could never be forgotten. Not least the real memories that served as muse for the nightmares.

But he wasn’t going to intrude on that vulnerable just-woken moment for her. He didn’t know her well enough. Frankly he didn’t want to know the cause of hers—though he suspected it had to do with the accident that had claimed her fiancé and crushed her leg. But he had enough terrors of his own to deal with, he couldn’t take on hers too. Yet he felt a quiet satisfaction that his presence had helped her. She’d burrowed back into his embrace and found enough comfort there to fall asleep again. It was instinct, of course. He was bigger than her, stronger and she probably felt safe in his arms. But it felt absurdly good to know she trusted him not to hurt her. And she was right, he wouldn’t. He was only about having a good time. Easy was all he ever did and ever wanted. Nothing serious, never heartache. A lot of fun for a little while.

That ability to have fun didn’t come as easy to her though. For all her sass talk back at him, she couldn’t initiate the play. She’d wanted—needed—him to take complete control. To give her no ‘choice.’ Why? Did she need to be absolved of ‘guilt’? Did she have some ‘good girl’ hang-up about sleeping with a near stranger? Well, she wouldn’t be the first woman he’d met who’d worried about that—for about five seconds.

Frankly Xander loved a game. He loved taking control. But there was always choice at the heart of it. And she’d responded to that lame superhero scenario. Once involved she’d given it good. She’d risen to his challenge, every bit as strong as she’d reckoned the other night. Yet every bit as soft and needy as he’d thought.

Sensitive. Insatiable.

The sensual promise between them had been strong, but the reality had been a revelation. Her unfettered response had pulled an intense reaction from him. As fantastic as sex usually was, that was spectacular.

He’d known she was emotional afterwards. You couldn’t allow yourself to be that exposed, experience sensations that extreme and not have a moment of vulnerability in the aftermath. He’d been the same. But he’d said nothing despite the weight in his chest—that heavy, aching feeling that had nothing to do with the physical. He recognized something within her that he shared—that thing that caused nightmares.

Pain. Loss. Fear.

But the only way to work through that intense aftermath was in a calm, quiet embrace. He’d kept her turned away from him to keep it purely physical. That was all this was and all it could ever be. He didn’t want to face her, to kiss her, to let her confuse comfort with caring of a deeper level. Because she was screwed up, no doubt about it. And so was he.

But she was trying hard to work through it and he respected that. He knew how much effort it took to come out the other side.

If it were only fantasy sex, some night-time companionship that she needed, he’d be happy to provide more. Having her underneath him—her breathing erratic, with those little whimpers escaping haphazardly—was insanely good. He’d do just about anything to have her like that again and again and again.

Except that was exactly what he shouldn’t do. Because she needed more than a few fun f*cks. Already she’d clutched his arm closer. Needing contact. Comfort.

He regretted having to do it, but he knew it was the right thing. Carefully he slid his arm out of her hold. Very slowly he slipped off the bed, as silently as possible. He grabbed his clothes, tiptoeing through to her plant-packed lounge to put them on. It was a struggle but his cock could just quit with the erection already. He wasn’t doing her again. It wouldn’t be right. Not for her or, he had the feeling, for him.

He left her apartment and climbed the few flights of stairs to his own. He went straight to the shower to refresh, pulled on some jeans and sat at his desk. Not tired. Not hungry. Not going to think about her or the sweet taste of her that lingered despite that damn shower.

He glared at his computer and forced himself to focus. He finished two reports, researched a new proposal, got to the point of clearing his emails because it was a mindless click-click-click task he could zombie through. He still refused to think. Refused to let that wedge of regret widen.

His phone rang. He glanced at the screen and with a sigh picked it up to answer. No point trying to hide from Logan. Ever.

“Where are you?” Logan asked. “I have a zero-sugar, all caffeine soda on the bar.”

“Can’t,” Xander closed his eyes and rubbed them. “Working.”

“It’s nearly midnight, you geek. Come get a life.”

His cousin Logan had been teasing him about working too hard for the last eighteen years. Logan’s brother Connor had been more of a study buddy, but even he hadn’t had the urgency, the drive, that Xander had. Conner and Logan had their trust funds, their family millions to fall back on. Xander had nothing. His mother had nothing.

It had been Xander’s job to fix that.

Now he pushed his chair away from his desk and spun it so his back was to the screen. He stretched out his stiffened muscles. “I didn’t get as much done today as I’d like and this is a big project.”

“Yeah well, this is a big night. Lingerie fashion show, Xan, you really need to be at the after party. Rocco’s. Now.”

Of course the after-party was at Rocco’s bar. And of course ultimate-party-animal Logan was in the thick of it. It always amused Xander given Logan and Connor’s father was such workaholic, patronizing, controlling tyrant.

The punitive reaction of Xander’s uncle had meant his mother had been on a good behavior bond the rest of her life. Xander had too, while he’d lived there in the Hughes family compound. It was like any minute his uncle expected him to go bad.

He never had. Not evil bad—not like his father.

Instead he’d wanted to break himself and his mother free from the ‘good-willed’ oppression of their family. To earn enough for them not to have to be dependent on someone else’s damn magnanimous gestures. Because the charity had been so close to animosity. She’d been there under sufferance. Reminded daily what an ‘idiot’ she’d been. His uncle was an unforgiving bastard, but Xander’s mother had been too scared to leave her brother’s protection. And Xander didn’t blame her.

“Get Rocco to party with you.”

“He’s working. Hunter’s gone AWOL. You’re it.”

“Not tonight, Logan.” Last thing Xander felt like was an all-night party and the potential for another hook-up. He was still working through the intensity of this afternoon.

“Are you seriously turning down a night with these models? I’m talking glitter and ink. Girls who are excited and ready to party—”

“Like it’s 1999, yeah I got it. Not tonight.” Just the thought of it made him feel rocky.

“What’s wrong—you sick?” Logan asked.

Xander smiled. His cousin was as blunt and nosy as ever. “I’m crunched with a deadline. Got to get it done.”

“You still work too hard. You not got it through your head it’s not necessary anymore?”

Logan and Connor had never taken the hard-line attitude of their father. As kids they’d split everything they’d gotten three ways with Xander—or tried to. Xander refused much of it. But he knew they’d do the same with the property and the trust funds if they could. But he was never going to let them try.

“It’s necessary.” Xander stifled a groan. “You ever thought that maybe I like my job?”

They all knew the injustice of their grandfather’s will—that he’d cut Xander’s mother from it. It had made her dependent on the benevolence of her brother. She hadn’t had the energy or resources to contest it at the time. She hadn’t wanted to. She’d agreed. It didn’t make it right. The Hughes machine was too big a bulldozer. So Xander had worked. He’d succeeded. He’d skipped a year at school, started and completed his degree ahead of all those his own age. His strength?

Security—installing systems for all kinds of organizations. He’d started small—from cafes to bars to hotels and bigger businesses.

He’d won financial security for his mother. That had been his long-term goal and he’d done it. And in the process, he’d discovered success was addictive. He wanted to be the best in his industry. He’d formed a partnership with Hunter—who was a personal protection specialist—so they covered two aspects of the market. And now Hunter was looking out for cyber specialists as well. Physical security—premises and personal—was one thing, but the Internet element needed its own management. They wanted to be able to offer the full package. So work was taking almost all his time and energy. And that was good.

“I like my job too,” Logan said in the hard-edged tone that sent his assistants scurrying to obey. “Actually, I love it. I also like to party hard. You need better balance”

“I’ll find my Zen another day.” Xander grinned at his cousin’s obvious irritation. “Tonight I’m working.”

Logan’s growl of disapproval rattled down the line. “Fine. Be boring then.”

“You don’t need me anyway,” Xander soothed. “In five minutes you’ll have found some flexible twins or something and be upstairs in one of Rocco’s rooms, banging them both to nirvana.”

“Hmm.” Logan still didn’t sound pleased.

Xander finally tuned in to the fact that beneath Logan’s grouchy tease there was something else. “You jaded?”

There was a micro-pause. “Nah. You’re right. Twins. I guess I could work with that idea. Most of these models all look the same anyway.”

Jeez, he did sound bored and in a bad mood. “So why not see if you can find yourself a perfect pair.”

“Alright, I’ll go find a f*cking orgy.” Logan hung up.

Xander put his phone down, looked at it in mild concern. Maybe he should go buddy with his cousin to jolly him out of that uncharacteristic grump. But knowing Logan, he really would find some twins. By the time Xander got there Logan would be out of sight and all action. Xander grimaced, his own grumpiness claiming him again. Last thing he wanted was to be with another woman. Maybe he’d forget about women for a little while. At any rate, there’d never be just one woman.

Having a family wasn’t something he was ever doing. His blood-line ended with him—the weakness and brutality of his father. And it had been enough to achieve security for his mother. He didn’t want to have to do it for a whole family of his own. He didn’t want more of that responsibility. He gave enough in his career, in his work. He just wanted fun. And usually the women he chose were easy, loving fun. Usually he didn’t stay awake for hours after sex. Usually he walked away feeling light, relaxed, and satisfied.

But he was so unsatisfied now—his capacity for sleep killed all because he kept seeing a pair of deep blue eyes and a lush red mouth in his mind.

Temptation bellowed in his blood.

There was only one way of coping. He’d leave town. He’d fly to Houston and personally check on that cinema project that Hunter had sent his way. The one that his most junior engineer had been forever on the phone to him about.

Out of sight, out of mind, right?

But two days later he still wasn’t sleeping, despite the literal distance he’d put between himself and temptation. He was still thinking about her. Still dreaming of a replay—dangerous territory. And then his phone rang again.

“Where the hell are you? I’m in trouble,” said Logan.

Xander tensed. “What kind of trouble?”

“Sleaze.” Logan growled. “It was your idea. It’s your fault.”

“What is?” Xander wasn’t in the mood for random charges.

“Check your email again.”

Keeping Logan on the phone, Xander quickly opened his inbox and clicked on the attachment Logan had sent. For a moment he just stared at the image. “Shit Logan—”

“How was I to know they were filming the whole thing?” Logan growled. “You ever meet women that hungry to be celebrities? It’s sick.”

Logan had definitely found look-a-like models. And he’d definitely done them—Xander had the photographic evidence in his hand. “They filmed it?”

“Uploaded it all over the Internet.”

Xander couldn’t help laughing.

“It’s not funny. You should hear Connor.”

“Connor’s come down on you?” That was unusual, Connor might appear to be the more serious, but he was as wild as any of them when it came to women.

“I’m the star of a f*cking sex tape. It’s horrific.”

“You’re not the star Logan, the girls are.” Xander tried to make light of it. “Most of the footage will be of them, right?” Hell he hoped so.

Logan grunted.

Xander shook his head. “How did you not notice the camera?”

“I was getting my rocks off at the time. You never been flat on your back with a girl riding your cock and another on your face?”

“Jeez.” He hadn’t actually.

“Don’t ask for the U.R. F*cking L. I was drunk, alright? I didn’t know they were Playboy wannabes. Or bona fide porn stars. What the hell am I going to do?”

Clearly being proud wasn’t an option. “Carry on as normal. Never concede defeat. You’ve done nothing wrong—wait, they were both adult, right?”

“Of course they bloody were.”

“Well that’s okay then. Your privacy has been violated but there’s no getting the genie back in the bottle now. The horse has bolted.”

“The clichés aren’t helping.”

“Course they are. Chin up brother, ride out the storm.”

A string of cuss words came through the receiver and then the line went dead.

With a half laugh Xander immediately went online to look up flight times. He’d go home and see Logan. Together they’d swear off screwing around. They’d play sport or something instead. Neither of them needed a woman.