Sylvie
Pain exploded in my side, red-hot fire that turned to numbing cold. My whole left side seemed to go weak. Just being upright was too painful, so my legs crumpled under me and dumped me to the mat. The shock of hitting it started the pain all over again.
My head bounced off the mat, that sudden, shocking slam, like being a kid again and slipping on the bouncy castle. If it had been the concrete floor of The Pit, my skull would have cracked open.
The bright lights above me were blocked out by Aedan. He came down on one knee beside me, his face contorted with horror.
He’s down on one knee, thrilled some far-off part of my brain.
“Are you okay?” he yelled.
I frowned. What did those words mean? I wondered if maybe I’d hit my head. I thought I remembered something like that happening.
Buttercups.
“Are you okay?” he yelled again. And then his voice seemed to become clearer and the lights didn’t seem quite so bright and I stopped thinking about buttercups and—
I blinked at him and nodded. Christ, my side hurt.
He ripped off his gloves. Then his hand was sliding up under my t-shirt, feeling my ribs. There was the pounding ache of a bruise, but I didn’t feel the sharp pain that would mean broken bones. His hand moved higher, probing gently.
I locked eyes with him. I was lying very still, getting used to the feeling of the rubbery mat under my back. I knew moving would hurt.
His hand reached the top of my ribcage and he stopped there. He let out a sort of pant of exasperation. “You were meant to block that, you feckin’ idiot!” But his eyes didn’t say angry. His eyes were terrified...and relieved.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
We stared at one another. He was looking at me the way a mother looks at the child she’s just dragged out of the path of a truck. Then, as the seconds passed, the fear and relief died away. And....
Both of us seemed to become aware of where his hand was at the same time. His palm was under my t-shirt, right at the top of my ribcage. The edge of his hand was pushed up against the underside of my breast, lifting it a little. The heat of him throbbed into me.
And then suddenly his other hand was cupping my cheek, the tips of his fingers in my hair, and his mouth was coming down on mine.