He was watching the road. “I’m not patronizing you.”
“Of course you are. Pretending that you rejected me because you don’t want to hurt me.”
“I didn’t reject you, Ivy.” He laughed as if the idea was absurd.
“Whatever you want to call it—you pretty much kicked me out of bed.”
“Nothing could be further from the truth.”
“Please stop trying to rewrite history,” Ivy said, her voice feeling strangled. “It’s insulting. Do you know how awful it was to make myself that vulnerable and then have you walk out of the room the way you did?”
Cullen finally glanced at her, and his eyes were full of emotion. “Walking out of the room took all of my willpower,” he said. “You have no idea what I would do to you if…”
“If what?” she cried. “If I wasn’t a pathetic virgin?”
Cullen shook his head. “You’ve misunderstood me entirely.”
“No, I think I understand you all too well.” She felt like she was going to cry and she refused to let him see her sobbing, snot pouring out of her nose like a baby. “Pull over and let me out.”
“Ivy,” he began.
“I said, let me out of this fucking car!” she screamed. Her heart was pounding and suddenly she was having trouble catching her breath. “Shit,” she said, closing her eyes and grabbing her purse tightly in her hands.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“I—I can’t…” she licked her lips, feeling her throat tightening. She took a breath but it felt like no air was entering her lungs. “I…I don’t…I can’t breathe…”
“Calm down,” he said, and he pulled the car over and parked.
She kept her eyes closed, because she was slowly losing her mind and terrified if she opened her eyes, she might somehow go crazy and die right there on the spot.
“Just leave me…alone…” she managed, but her breathing was getting shallower, and her heart was racing faster.
She felt Cullen’s hand on her back, rubbing gently, and then his voice close to her. “Listen to me. You’re fine,” he soothed. “Lean forward, put your head on your knees.”
“I can’t breathe!” she said, panic rising inside her now. She felt like she might actually be dying. Was it some kind of allergic reaction to something she ate at lunch—a delayed response of some kind?
“You can breathe, you’re just hyperventilating,” he said. His voice was calmer than ever, and he didn’t sound remotely worried.
She leaned forward as he’d suggested, clutching the purse to her chest as her forehead touched her knees. Meanwhile, Cullen rubbed her back and spoke words of encouragement.
“Breathe slowly, along with my instructions. I’ll count to three. You take a breath in while I count. And then you’ll hold for one second, and then we’ll breathe out to the count of three. Ready?” he asked.
She nodded, trying desperately not to freak out. She felt like the air whistling through her throat was coming out of a straw. It was similar to being underwater, and someone refusing to let you up to take in a gulp of air, but you were somehow supposed to stay calm.
Still, it helped that Cullen was talking to her, and he wasn’t afraid. He was a doctor after all—so if something was truly wrong, wouldn’t he know it?
Cullen counted slowly to three, and Ivy inhaled along with his voice. Then he told her to exhale as he counted backwards from three to one. He started counting backwards and she did as he said, letting the air slowly out her mouth.
Her body trembled.
“Now we do it again,” he said. “Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
They ran through the process a few more times, and slowly she began to feel more herself. Her hands were tingling a little bit, but the panicky feeling had subsided for the most part.
She took another minute or two to make sure she was actually okay and not just imagining it. Finally, she sat up straight again and looked at him. “I freaked out,” she told him.
He gave her a slow, easy smile. “You had an anxiety attack.”
“I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before.”
“It’s nothing serious,” he told her. “There’s nothing wrong with you physically.”
“I’m just an emotional basket case, is that it?”
His gaze intensified. “You’re afraid of allowing yourself to let go,” he told her. “You’re afraid of losing control.”
“Are you sure we’re still talking about me?” she said.
His jaw set and she saw a twitch in his temple. “We’re most definitely talking about you.” His nostrils flared. “I haven’t forgotten about your disobedience, and the fact that you took Xavier Montrose’s business card.”
Ivy sighed. “I don’t know what you expect from me. I was willing to give myself to you this morning, and you didn’t want me. But I suppose you don’t want anyone else to have me either.”
“It’s complicated,” Cullen told her. “I’m no good for you. That much is very clear to me.”