the romantic in her wanted to believe that it was something else. Another “A” word. Attraction, perhaps?
Before she had a chance to launch a visual investigation to determine the “A” in his eyes, her phone dinged, alerting her to a text.
When she read it, the walls felt like they were closing in on her and she was pretty sure that there was an invisible—but large!—elephant sitting on her chest. “Oh shit,” she breathed.
“What’s wrong?” The concern in Logan’s tone took Emma by surprise, mainly because she wasn’t used to anyone asking her what was wrong.
It almost trumped the fact that the text had knocked the wind clean out of her. She would’ve told him how much she appreciated his worry, but unfortunately, she was too busy hyperventilating.
A part of her mind knew there was enough oxygen in the world to breathe normally. The problem was it didn’t seem to want to go into her lungs. Not since she was a kid and had battled with bouts of allergy-induced asthma, that hadn’t been helped by the humid southern heat, had she experienced this much trouble catching her breath.
“Emma?”
Logan saying her name registered, but it was distorted, like she was hearing it while underwater. Which was appropriate, she supposed, since she felt like she was drowning. Gripping at her chest, she concentrated on slowing her gasps and pants.
“Emma?” Logan sounded even more muffled and far, far away.
When she looked up at him, his face was spinning—or maybe it was the room. Either way, she needed to sit down. Moving into the room he’d put her suitcases in, she stumbled over the corner of a rug. Thankfully, the bed broke her fall. Face first, but it was still a soft landing pad.
The next thing she knew, large, warm hands were wrapped around her upper arms and she was being pulled up to a seated position as her body was turned, her legs hung off the side of the bed. It was odd to feel like a puppet, her body as limp as a rag doll, but she had to admit that having Logan as the puppet master wasn’t all bad. Nope, not bad at all.
Instinctively, her body trusted him. His voice. His touch. His strength.
“Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Slowly.”
Her body instantly responded to his authoritative command. It wasn’t like she decided to do what Logan instructed. She’d just done it. Closing her mouth, she inhaled as deep and unhurriedly as possible. Then, parting her lips, she deliberately blew her breath out.
“Good girl. Now, do it again,” he rasped.
And just like the first time he’d spoken, her body obeyed without hesitation. After several more Logan-coaxed breaths, Emma opened her eyes. Logan was kneeling in front of her, his large palms covering her thighs. Her eyes lifted to his, and he continued talking her through the technique that seemed to be combatting her hyperventilation.
Surreal. That was what this was. It was as if she were floating. Like she was weightless and there was a distinct disconnect between her brain and her body. Every inch of her skin and every cell in her entire being was tingling. Whether it was from sexual awareness or a side effect of oxygen depletion, she couldn’t be sure.
Slowly, she drifted back to the present, her faculties returning one by one. Thankfully, it wasn’t a jarring crash. With Logan’s assistance, her return to the here and now was a soft and well-supported landing.
A private smile pulled at Logan’s lips, and his thick fingers squeezed her leg. “Better?”
His one-word inquiry and innocent gesture hit her in complete opposition to the gentle return to her senses she’d just experienced. The rumble of his voice combined with the touch of his strong hand, sent a jolt with the strength of a lightning bolt straight between her legs. It was powerful. Impactful.
“Yes.” Emma pressed her lips together and continued to breathe in a steady, deliberate pace.
“Good.” Logan remained perfectly still, his eyes
Before she had a chance to launch a visual investigation to determine the “A” in his eyes, her phone dinged, alerting her to a text.
When she read it, the walls felt like they were closing in on her and she was pretty sure that there was an invisible—but large!—elephant sitting on her chest. “Oh shit,” she breathed.
“What’s wrong?” The concern in Logan’s tone took Emma by surprise, mainly because she wasn’t used to anyone asking her what was wrong.
It almost trumped the fact that the text had knocked the wind clean out of her. She would’ve told him how much she appreciated his worry, but unfortunately, she was too busy hyperventilating.
A part of her mind knew there was enough oxygen in the world to breathe normally. The problem was it didn’t seem to want to go into her lungs. Not since she was a kid and had battled with bouts of allergy-induced asthma, that hadn’t been helped by the humid southern heat, had she experienced this much trouble catching her breath.
“Emma?”
Logan saying her name registered, but it was distorted, like she was hearing it while underwater. Which was appropriate, she supposed, since she felt like she was drowning. Gripping at her chest, she concentrated on slowing her gasps and pants.
“Emma?” Logan sounded even more muffled and far, far away.
When she looked up at him, his face was spinning—or maybe it was the room. Either way, she needed to sit down. Moving into the room he’d put her suitcases in, she stumbled over the corner of a rug. Thankfully, the bed broke her fall. Face first, but it was still a soft landing pad.
The next thing she knew, large, warm hands were wrapped around her upper arms and she was being pulled up to a seated position as her body was turned, her legs hung off the side of the bed. It was odd to feel like a puppet, her body as limp as a rag doll, but she had to admit that having Logan as the puppet master wasn’t all bad. Nope, not bad at all.
Instinctively, her body trusted him. His voice. His touch. His strength.
“Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Slowly.”
Her body instantly responded to his authoritative command. It wasn’t like she decided to do what Logan instructed. She’d just done it. Closing her mouth, she inhaled as deep and unhurriedly as possible. Then, parting her lips, she deliberately blew her breath out.
“Good girl. Now, do it again,” he rasped.
And just like the first time he’d spoken, her body obeyed without hesitation. After several more Logan-coaxed breaths, Emma opened her eyes. Logan was kneeling in front of her, his large palms covering her thighs. Her eyes lifted to his, and he continued talking her through the technique that seemed to be combatting her hyperventilation.
Surreal. That was what this was. It was as if she were floating. Like she was weightless and there was a distinct disconnect between her brain and her body. Every inch of her skin and every cell in her entire being was tingling. Whether it was from sexual awareness or a side effect of oxygen depletion, she couldn’t be sure.
Slowly, she drifted back to the present, her faculties returning one by one. Thankfully, it wasn’t a jarring crash. With Logan’s assistance, her return to the here and now was a soft and well-supported landing.
A private smile pulled at Logan’s lips, and his thick fingers squeezed her leg. “Better?”
His one-word inquiry and innocent gesture hit her in complete opposition to the gentle return to her senses she’d just experienced. The rumble of his voice combined with the touch of his strong hand, sent a jolt with the strength of a lightning bolt straight between her legs. It was powerful. Impactful.
“Yes.” Emma pressed her lips together and continued to breathe in a steady, deliberate pace.
“Good.” Logan remained perfectly still, his eyes
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