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“You need to breathe, Rainbow, or you’re going to pass out.”
Passing out sounded good. She should do that.
“Whoa, no. You’re not passing out on me,” he said in such a stern voice that surprised her.
Aston hadn’t realized that he could actually be stern.
She jumped as she felt him touch her thigh. She stared up into his face, illuminated by his phone.
“Come on, Rainbow. You need to concentrate on calming down and taking a breath. Can you do that for me? Take a nice deep breath.”
She couldn’t do that.
“Besides, you wouldn’t want to pass out in my presence, right? Imagine all the things I could do while you were unconscious. I could get into your phone and change the names of all your contacts. Or grab a pen from your bag and draw a moustache on your face. You don’t want me to do any of that, right?”
He sat on his ass in front of her. His voice might be light and joking, but there was a serious look on his face.
“Take a deep breath in and hold it for me. No, don’t look away. I want you to follow my breathing. You can do it.” He put his phone on the floor and grabbed her hands in his. She tried to snatch them away, but he held on tight. “Your hands are like fucking icicles. Come on, baby. Breathe in. That’s right. In with me. Hold. Then out, slowly. And again. No, nope. Don’t go into your own head. You’re here with me. We’re doing this together. In. Hold. Out. Good girl.”
She tried to tell herself that she hated him calling her good girl. That she hated everything about him, from his too-perfect hair to his charming grin and straight, white teeth.
But she’d be deluding herself.
“Uh-uh, don’t let your mind wander. You keep your attention on me. I’m the only thing you should be thinking about right now.”
She’d never admit it, not even under the threat of torture, but she thought about him a lot.
“That’s it. Eyes on me. In, nice and slow. Follow my breathing. Hold. Now, out. Good. That was good.”
Urgh, his words should have sounded condescending, which should have made her want to nut punch him.
But they didn’t, and she found herself unwilling to hurt his nuts.
Nope.
Which was annoying. Because life would be so much easier if she actually disliked him.
But then when had life ever been easy for her?
2
Suddenly, just as Aston was starting to breathe more easily, Maxim’s phone cut out and the elevator grew pitch black again.
A tiny, scared sound escaped her. And she hated it.
God, she hated it so much.
It was bad enough that she had chinks in her armor, but letting someone else see them?
Not smart.
“It’s all right, Rainbow,” he murmured. “I’m right here. Fuck, I can feel you shaking. Where’s your phone?”
Her phone . . . where was her phone? Why couldn’t she remember?
“Fuck it,” he muttered. “Do not hate me for this later.”
Hate him? Why would she hate him?
He was being incredibly kind right now. Most people would’ve just ignored her or, more likely, gotten annoyed.
Not Maxim.
Trouble was, she was pretty certain he only knew she was alive when she was standing right in front of him.
She was like a stone in his shoe. Annoying while it was there, but easily forgotten once you threw it away.
Ouch. That was a painful thought.
To her shock, she was suddenly picked up and settled into a wide lap. He wasn’t the biggest guy she’d ever met, a lot of the guys she worked with were bigger.
But he was built. She could feel how firm his chest was against her back. How hard his thighs were beneath hers.
And warm . . . darn, he was warm.
He quickly enveloped her in his embrace. And for the first time in a long time, she felt safe.
Which was completely and utterly terrifying.
Because she had no right to feel safe in his arms. She’d rather not feel anything in his arms. Feeling something for this man would only lead to heartbreak.
He’d been given the title of most eligible bachelor in the state.
He was out almost every night, often not coming home until the early hours. And the reason she knew that was because she barely slept. She spent most of her nights sitting on her balcony, looking out into the city.
So she’d often seen him getting home in the early hours.
And no . . . she wasn’t waiting for him. That would be creepy. She wasn’t a fucking stalker.
She was simply doing her bit for the neighborhood watch.
That’s all.
In no way was she obsessed with him.
Lord . . . she was such an idiot. She was utterly obsessed with him, yet he barely knew she was alive.
Which is why she was kind of . . . sometimes . . . a bit grouchy around him.
