Chapter 43 Warm Blue Skies #2
“I can’t breeaatheee,” Sarah whimpers hoarsely, flipping to her stomach before the other pant leg can come off.
“Oh my God, I can’t breathe!” Her lace clad chest heaves as she coughs.
Leaving red marks on her delicate skin, she claws at her breasts, fighting for air that's wheezing out of her throat.
"Sarah, I'm here. I'm here, sweetheart."
“No!” she gasps, her hand sweeps fast along the carpet, trying to feel for something.
But there's nothing. Nothing except me.
I reach over, grasping her hand and squeezing her fingers. “Sarah, I’m right here. You can breathe. You’re having a panic attack, sweetie. Please listen to my voice and let me lead you.”
Tension tightens her face, and she lets out another sob.
Helpless, my heart begins to pound out of control, and the hair stands up on the back of my arms and neck as another uncomfortable shiver rolls through my body.
Sarah reaches around to her back, but then her arm jerks and she lets out a pained cry at the soreness she no doubt still feels there.
Working fast, I finally get her pants off, now revealing a lacy pair of black panties, and I shuffle back a bit to give her room as she flops around on the floor and reaches around once more, trying to find the clasp on her bra but still can't reach it.
And I can't find it in myself to compromise her dignity while she's at her most vulnerable.
My chest tightens even more when she begins sobbing. "He doesn’t want to be my friend; he’s only doing this because I’m pathetic, just like Brandon said."
My eyes widen, and I stiffen as I hear the words, strangled and full of pain, rip from her throat.
I ignore my heart pounding and reach forward to smooth my hands down her hair, her shoulders, trying to comfort her.
I don't care that she's half dressed and flip-flopping all over the floor or if this is improper at all.
I just want to help. However, at this point in her panic attack, I don't even know if she can recognize my efforts or not.
I fight through the tightness in my own throat. “No, sweetie, that’s not true at all. You’re not pathetic, and I am your friend. Listen to my voice. Let yourself reach for my voice. I’m right here.”
"Get it oooffff!" she screams.
She bends her arm and scratches for her bra clasp again.
The choked gasping torn from her throat is my undoing.
I give up trying to preserve her dignity at this point, reaching around and unclasping her bra.
The result is so fast its as if I'd performed a miracle.
Every straining muscle relaxes as she immediately lowers herself into a downward dog position.
Placing her cheek against the rough wool of the carpet, crying big heaving sobs that finish cracking what's left of my heart.
When our eyes lock, she brings her hands up to her face, covering herself.
"Oh, sweetness," I murmur. "You don't ever need to hide herself with me."
Ever.
Standing, I walk a couple feet to the foot of the bed and grab a pillow, before sinking back to the floor with her. "You're safe," I repeat.
I cradle one hand under her head and shoulder, and then lift her to settle across me.
While I work, I try my hardest to make sure her breasts stay out of view, protecting her modesty.
Shifting my legs so I can make her as comfortable as possible, I can't help but notice how her breasts feel squashed in my lap as I settle her across my thighs on the floor.
She cries for long, torturous minutes. Every sob and wet drop that soaks into my thigh fucks with my head.
Tears flow in unrestrained streams down her cheeks as she lays there, trembling.
She stares at my bare forearm, making me aware that at some point I’d pushed up the sleeves of my dress shirt and loosened my tie.
She blinks and sniffs. The tears begin to recede when my hand comes up to rest on her head, just over her left ear.
I press gently, hoping—wishing—to ground her.
My other hand raises to the top of her back and makes gentle sweeping motions all the way to her nape and then back down to her hip.
I can't believe she's letting me touch her like this.
“Sarah… tell me five things you can see.”
Though I try my hardest to keep my tone soft, I still jolt her.
She trembles, her eyes flickering. “Uhm…I see your watch, the blue of your suit…the platform of the bed, the w-window…the desk chair there.”
“Give me four things you can touch,” I say, matching her tone, stroking her hair now. My wrist brushes her cheek as I move, and she takes a deep breath.
“The carpet, your legs, this pillow, my hair,” she breathes on an exhale before dragging another deep breath into her lungs.
“Good girl," I say, keeping my touch light. "Tell me three things you can hear.”
“Your voice, my voice…the—the air conditioner.” Her eyes flutter, and she sags on another slower breath, relaxing even further into me.
“That’s it," I croon. "Relax. You’re safe here with me, sweetness. Now, take another deep breath and tell me two things you can smell.”
Sarah takes a deep breath before furrowing her nose and frowning slightly. “My perfume. Coming from your hip very strongly for some reason,” she whispers, glancing up at me, and I feel my face turn hot and my chest tighten at being caught. “And you. I smell you. You smell very good…like a man.”
I chuckle humorlessly. “Thank God I’m a man. Now, one thing you can taste.” I lean my head back into the mattress, looking up at the ceiling, feeling pained.
But I have to finish talking her through this before I can focus on myself.
I wait a few moments before I suddenly feel the warm wet lash of her tongue on my wrist. To my dismay, my cock hardens immediately at the contact, and I'm grateful she's not that far on top of me to feel. I tilt my head, looking down at her and raise a brow.
“You just…licked me,” I say rather stupidly, wincing as disbelief colors my tone.
“Well, it was only fair since you licked me first, remember?” she says, closing her eyes and going silent once more. I lean my head back to rest against the bed again and continue to stroke her back.
“Your bruises are almost gone,” I say conversationally.
"Your skin is so beautiful." My fingers slow as I let myself enjoy the feel of her skin against mine.
I refuse to look back down at her. Seeing her body like this is going to give me a one-way ticket to hell, and I have a sickening thought that if I look back down at her, there would be no going back.
She's too vulnerable and doesn’t need another man coming onto her.
“Sarah," I harden my voice, "I didn’t see anything.
Your hair covered your breasts, baby. I just wanted you to know that in case you were worried. " I swallow thickly. "I didn’t look.”
Fucking hell, I can’t believe I didn’t look.
My chest expands on a deep breath as I try to get ahold of my emotions and traitorous desire.
“Thank you,” Sarah says in a soft tone, turning her head slightly to face away from me and heaving a deep sigh as if she's content. As if she's settled.
As if she's safe.
I can't remember the last time I felt like someone felt settled in my presence.
“My pleasure. Are you okay to get up? I’d like to get you a washcloth for your face; then, you should probably lay down and rest. You just had a pretty bad panic attack.
" I wait a couple of seconds, but she doesn't respond or move. "I’m going to call room service and have them bring something up since we missed lunch and dessert, which you’re going to eat first. You need something sweet to help,” I say roughly.
"Some chocolate might be nice," she replies in a tired tone before raising to one lithe arm with her back to me. My hand settles at the delicate curve of her back into the swell of her hip. It takes everything in me to not tighten my grip there.
I keep my face averted as she clutches the pillow to her front. I stand and help her up, watching as she walks slowly to my side of the bed and crawls in silently, not bothering with trying to pull any clothes on.
I walk to the bathroom and wet a washcloth before walking back out to her.
I kneel next to the bed and wipe her face gently, careful not to smear her makeup.
I stay quiet, understanding that she needs time to recover, and reach over for the phone and order us some lunch and another piece of chocolate cake, stroking her cheek the entire time.
I may have a one-way ticket to hell for having my hands all over her right now, but I'll be damned if I deny myself these small moments of intimacy. We both need it.
Hanging up, I stay kneeling on the floor, enraptured by her wide, dark-pink mouth and thick lashes that lay just right on her cheeks.
She’d closed her eyes, and her chest rises and falls softly, looking like she's slowly falling asleep.
I'm so lost staring, watching her features settle into being calm, that I inhale in surprise when her hazel eyes suddenly open and lock with mine.
I meet her gaze patiently, wanting with everything in me to close the distance between us and kiss her soft, full lips. She’s beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking.
I can’t believe I’m this close to you, baby.
My chest tightens hard at the pain in her eyes.
“I’m s-sorry,” she whispers, her voice cracking as tears suddenly fall down her face and then onto the pillow beneath her.
“I didn’t mean to. This was supposed to be your week.
" Her face contorts with pain and embarrassment, and she brings a hand up to cover her face. "Oh my god. I didn’t mean to make it all about me, and I couldn’t even make it through the second day w-without—”
"No, don't." Tugging her hand from her face, I put my hand gently across her mouth, hushing her words. “Please, stop,” I plead hoarsely, leaning forward to place my forehead against hers. "You have nothing to apologize for, sweetness. Do you hear me? Nothing!"
We stay like this for long minutes, pressed intimately together.
Her warm breath glides over my hand. I reluctantly let her wrap her fingers around my wrist and gently pull my hand away from her lips.
Her eyes meet mine warily, as if she's worried.
I tense when she tugs our clasped hands to her mouth.
“She said you were cold,” Sarah says quietly, pressing her lips to my knuckles and closing her eyes briefly.
Though I relish her affection, her words give me pause. I frown and tilt my head, my brow furrowing in confusion. “Hm, sweetheart? Who said?” I ask gently, feeling my heart starting to race again. Perplexed. Her wet eyes flicker between mine, somehow warm and sad at the same time.
Cherishing how intimate this is, I allow myself to brush my thumb across her bottom lip, marveling at its plump, smooth texture.
“The women behind me when you were speaking. They were talking badly about you. That’s why I moved seats. They said a few things…but what they said wasn’t true," Sarah says harshly, releasing my hand and reaching for my face. "You’re not cold. Not to me.”
Her hand molds against the side of my face, warm and soft.
I lean into her hand. So touch starved I feel like a man deprived of oxygen, and she's offering me my first breath in so long I forgot what it felt like to breathe. My eyes flicker between hers, and I hold my breath at the first caress of her fingers against my cheek.
A single tear slips from her eyes that I wipe away gently.
“People might look into your eyes and see ice, but when I look into them, I see a bright, clear blue sky with no clouds to bring thunderstorms or darkness. Just beautiful, soft warm blue as far as the eye can see. It reminds me that I’m alive, and I’m grateful for that.
I don’t see what they see, Alex. And I really hope you don’t either. ”
Her words ring soundly in my head, my eyes widen as they stare into hers, and my body flushes from head to toe. Tingles erupt everywhere, and I realize…
I'm in love with her.
My heart stops beating as I kneel here, staring at her for several quiet seconds. So much passes between us. Sacred, intense, indescribable.
Inevitable…
When my body stops betraying me, I let out a ragged exhale.
Tearing my eyes from hers, I snatch her hand up and put my lips to her inner wrist before pushing off the floor, making my way to the bathroom, and closing the door.
Turning the handle to the shower, I go back to the vanity and strip out of my clothes, tossing them to the side.
Her words swell inside my head; the torturous echo on repeat, reminding me I'm so close to what I want but can't have.
Placing my hands flat on the vanity, I lean forward as the steam begins to tumble out of the shower and invade the room around me.
The humidity mists my skin, cocooning me in a warm embrace. But I don't want the steam.
Memories of my ex swirl inside my head. Of the times I'd let my guard down, thinking I could be vulnerable with her. But I never could. It was always a trap. Fake, much like her.
But with Sarah, I want something real. I don't want the steam’s embrace…
I wish it was her.
I glance up, looking at myself in the reflection of the mirror, reaching out a hand to caress down the image of my eyes. The same ones I’d spent my whole life hearing how cold and lifeless they are. How closed off I could be.
The shower roars, pounding against the tile and highlighting how alone I am right now.
Glancing at the bathroom door, I temporarily lose my mind and take a step forward to grab her and bring her in here with me before coming to an abrupt halt.
"Alex," I chastise myself. I look to the side sharply and will myself to get a grip.
Balling my hand into a fist, I fight against walking back in the bedroom and asking her to join me. Instead, I turn away from my image to step into the shower, alone.
Placing my hands flat on the tiled wall, I hang my head. The hot water pounds down on my head, soaking the strands. Tears prick the back of my eyes, and I bite my lip on a harsh sob. Because I'm not icy like everyone's made me believe I was all these years. I'm warm. A soft, clear blue sky.
Like Sarah said.
Keeping my head hanging down, I shudder—weak—on a bit-off sob, letting myself cry. Cry for myself, and cry for the woman in the next room whom I'm in love with…and she's not ready.