‘You’re not, now. You’re here, safe,’ he promised, cradling the nape of her neck so she felt every bit of support he had to offer. ‘You’re safe,’ he said again.
When he felt her relax into him, he knew that he’d finally gotten through.
‘You’re safe,’ he repeated once more.
30
Rae braced herself against the dizzying wave of nausea that always came with this feeling. A panic attack. She’d known that’s what they were, but she hadn’t been willing to admit it to herself until Struan had said the words.
She burrowed deeper into him, feeling him everywhere: her thighs straddling his, his breath grazing her ear lobe, his sturdy arms keeping her upright while also pinning her somewhere still and steady. He smelled like rain, grass, soap, and at his neck, fresh, tangy spices. She nuzzled into it like it would save her, the sensation sending relief through her achingly taut muscles. She’d felt seasick a moment ago, but he anchored her to a place she knew, a place where she was safe, like he’d promised.
‘I was worried about you,’ she admitted when the world stopped spinning and the words would finally come. ‘I thought something had happened.’
‘I’m fine.’ His low voice reverberated against her. She wanted him to keep talking so he would drown out the uneven thumps of her heart. ‘It just took a lot longer than expected, that’s all. I’m here now.’
‘Are the family okay?’
‘Aye, they’re getting the treatment they need. They should make a full recovery.’
‘Was it hard?’ she dared whisper. She couldn’t quite imagine how difficult that responsibility must be: to stand outside in the rain and the wind and the heat, not knowing when you’ll next get to come home, or if the people you’re trying to reach will still be alive when you do.
He hummed, pressing a soft kiss into her hair. ‘Exhausting. Scary, for a minute.’
She held him tighter – for him, this time. It felt selfish to need him like this when he’d been through so much, and as the worst of her panic ebbed, she felt silly for being the one to break down. Whatever she’d been through today, he’d endured far worse.
Just as she was about to pull away, she heard her name being called. The hallway’s rickety floorboards creaked as Martha sang out, ‘Where are you?’
Rae shook her head slowly. Martha couldn’t find them here like this, even if they hadn’t done anything. She didn’t want to have to explain that, when she was falling apart, Struan was the only one who seemed to know how to tape her back together.
Her entire body stiffened with alertness when Martha’s footfalls neared the cupboard. Rae held her breath, too aware of Struan’s heavy hands on her thighs, the calm challenge in his eyes.
Perhaps he wanted them to be found.
In the end, he brushed his nose against hers, a reassurance more than a temptation. Rae’s lids fluttered closed when want pierced through all of the terrible sensations stored on rickety shelves in her body,a reminder that she wasn’t all the way broken. She could still feel pleasure.
With him. Only with him.
An impatient huff gusted through the hall, and then Martha’s heavy steps retreated down the stairs as she muttered something about a disappearing woman.
Rae slumped in relief. Her fingers feathered through the damp hair curling at the nape of Struan’s neck as he stroked up her spine, vertebrae by vertebrae, brow still puckered with concern.
‘I’m going to get you some water,’ he said.
She pressed against him so he couldn’t rise without taking her with him, the fire in her core stoked when she brushed against his thigh with a delicious amount of friction. ‘Please. Not yet.’
The tender pads of his thumbs brushed her cheeks, collecting damp flecks of mascara. ‘You should rest, sweetheart. I can tell them you’re not well.’
Her hands journeyed down his chest, fingers slipping between the gaps of his shirt buttons, where soft hair curled like satin. He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, back sinking against the lavender-painted wall.
‘Rae.’
She didn’t know if it was a plea to keep going or to stop, but with the way she throbbed against his hard muscle, she hoped it was the latter. She needed him, more than she needed water or rest or quiet. She needed his strength to trickle through her frail body, needed him to fill her until there was nothing else.
When her touch sloped down his belly to his crotch, she found his cock already standing for her. His breath turned shallow as she traced the thick outline, teasing him through the zipper of his trousers.
‘We can’t do this now,’ he said.
‘I want to. Please. I need to.’
