Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“What the hell was that?” I whispered.
I thought back to him, moving me like a rag doll and commanding me. I stroked along my neck and chest, remembering his hands controlling my breathing.
“Why did I let him do that?”
Not that I had much of a choice in the middle of a panic attack, but I hadn’t even tried to stop him.
The most confusing part of it all was that I was more calm now than I’d ever been after a panic attack. I’d had many over the years, especially after my mom died, but they usually left me exhausted and worn down.
The fatigue lingered now, but so did a different kind of energy—one I’d never experienced before.
“What the fuck?” I muttered.
Not sure what to do with the experience, I fell back on what I knew. I dug my phone out of my purse and sent a message.
Me: Are you free tonight?
Ash: Dammit. I’m out of town.
“Shit.”
I tossed my phone back in my purse and checked the time. Seven-twenty-two.
I looked around, trying to decide my next move. The only thing I knew was that I didn’t want to be in the office anymore. I didn’t want to be confronted by my loss of control or anything after it.
With that decided, I grabbed my things and headed home, leaving behind the entire afternoon and blocking out the almost kiss between me and Lucian Daire.
CHAPTER 6
LUCIAN
Thirty minutes later, I pulled into the long driveway of my godparents’ house and realized I never even turned on the music.
Despite Aspen accusing me of having zero connection to music, I never purchased a company I didn’t have confidence in, faith, or a connection to, and I loved music. I may not understand it, but I rarely went anywhere without something playing.
Which made the silence during the twenty-minute drive more shocking.
Flashes of finding Aspen in her office in the midst of an anxiety attack consumed my thoughts. I’d followed her with more to say about her tantrum, but every argument slipped away when I walked in. She’d been so consumed that she hadn’t heard me call her name.
Every thought of a spoiled princess slipped away when I closed the distance and acted on instinct. Not that I had a plan before I reached her. I just grabbed her arm and prioritized getting all her attention on me and slowing down her breathing. The only way I thought to accomplish that was a combination of breath play and a blood choke.
She’d looked up with wide, amber eyes, and my intuition took over. I used every resource I’d learned as a dominant.
I laughed. Who used being a Dom as a way to pull someone unused to the lifestyle from an anxiety attack?
Fuck if I knew, but it made sense. I’d seen more than one member at The Berkshire push a submissive to the edge, only to pull them back. I’d just never imagined using it outside of a controlled environment. But I’d do it again. Especially if it meant I got to experience her coming down, her breaths syncing with mine, her body softening under my grip as her eyes skimmed over my lips.
That shocked me the most—her reaction. While one part of my mind went to work on calming her, the other braced for impact. She’d fought for control at every step over the past couple of weeks, and I waited for her to do the same then.
However, when I pinned her to the wall, she gave in to the dominance. She gave me the control.
As much as I hated her, I hated her suffering too. Yet, I couldn’t wish it away, because helping her come down from her panic had been one of the most exhilarating experiences that left me wanting more. It left me longing to see how far my control could go.
It left me realizing how fucked I was.
Aspen Quinn already had a million red flags warning me away. The last thing I needed was the memory of her body relaxing under my command haunting me day in and day out.
The front door opened, casting a golden light across my car, pulling me from my ruminations. Despite the fact my godmother probably hadn’t left the house today, she looked ready to attend any country club in her wide-leg, beige slacks and black sweater with her hair and makeup done to perfection.
“Grace,” I greeted, stepping around my car.
“I thought you were going to stay out here forever,” she accused with a perfectly white arched brow.
“And miss dinner with you? Never.”
“Mmmhmm.” She stepped aside and welcomed me into my home away from home—but not without a muttered reprimand. “You’re late, young man.”
“Sorry about that, Grace. Something…kept me longer than expected.”
“Mmmhmm,” she hummed again, taking my coat with a knowing look. “Hopefully that elusive girlfriend of yours.”
“I wish.” I forced a laugh, wincing at the lie as I followed her to the dining room.