"James, please,” I whisper.
The sound barely leaves my throat. He doesn’t hear me.
Air slips away from my lungs. My chest tightens. A hot pressure builds behind my ribs as my body struggles for breath. Black spots flicker at the edge of my vision.
Panic surges first.
But beneath it, something darker stirs. Sharp. Electric.
My pulse pounds harder. Heat rushes through my veins in a way that feels dangerously close to pleasure.
I like it when he chokes me like this.
The danger. The raw edge of it. The way it strips everything away, until there's nothing left but sensation, and the two of us locked inside it.
When he controls my breath, it feels like the purest form of surrender. The realization hits me like a spark. Lust surges through my veins.
I shove the thought away the instant it forms.
My hands fly up, driven by survival instinct. I clutch at his thick wrists.
"James—it’s…it’s your wife." My voice comes out strangled.
I pinch his arm. Hard. Something shifts in his face. His grip loosens.
Like I got through to him.
"James." I manage to yell out through the rawness in my throat. "It was a nightmare."
His eyes focus.
Not all the way. Not yet. But enough that I see the exact moment he realizes it's me. Not whoever he was fighting in his head.
Me.
But he doesn’t release me. Instead, a tremor grips his body.
James Hamilton is shaking. Those blue eyes are haunted, still half-lost in whatever hell he just relived.
“You had a nightmare, but you’re safe now.”
His jaw works. Every muscle in his body is coiled tightly, like he's holding himself back from something.
From me. Or maybe, from himself.
“You’re awake now. You didn’t hurt me. You heard me and you stopped.”
I tighten my hold around his wrist. His pulse hammers against my palm, frantic, terrified, alive.
"You're here. With me. And I'm not afraid of you."
Something breaks in his eyes. The vulnerability in them punches me with the force of a tsunami. This is James. Stripped bare of all posturing. This is James hurting. With his emotions on display. The ghosts of his past still haven’t let go of him completely. But he sees me.
I know then, for sure, that he’d never hurt me. Even if I hadn’t stopped him, he’d have realized it was me and stopped.
Any fear inside me fades away. Everything goes calm.
I slide my hand up. Over his forearm. His bicep. Feeling the tension thrumming through him.
