I woke.
It was dark.
My head was pounding.
I could feel the dried tears on my face.
The memories started coming back to me. One after another. They filled my head.
I lost my shit.
Straight-up. I completely lost my shit.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The door opened. Light shone in.
Kash was coming into the bedroom, a bottle of water in hand. “Hey.”
My head was still pounding. I groaned, rolling to the edge of the bed. I was in my sleeping tank top and underwear.
The bed depressed as Kash sat next to me, taking my hand and placing a couple of painkillers in it. “Take those. Drink this.” The water was next. I popped the pills in, swallowed, and my throat was parched, so I drank half the bottle before handing it back to Kash.
“What do you remember?”
God. He was being sympathetic and kind, and that was making me lose my shit all over again. I could feel the emotions clogging my throat, but I forced myself to chill out. Stop. Clear the head. Shove that crap back down. I wasn’t going to crumble again. No way.
My nostrils flared as I forced air back out—that was the effort it took to stop the waterworks from having a repeat show.
“I remember the bathroom, and losing it.”
He shifted, putting the water on the nightstand next to me. His hand came to my back. “You feeling nauseous at all?”
I shook my head.
“Pain?”
“Just a headache.”
That was enough.
Kash had an arm underneath me and I was flipped over in bed, then hauled back so I was on his lap. His back was to the headboard and he was cradling me. My head was against his shoulder and chest, and he was rubbing a hand up and down my thigh.
I felt his lips press behind my ear before moving down to my neck, then my shoulder. He moved my tank top strap aside, lingering where it had been resting over my skin. “Fuck. I love you.” A beat later: “Are you okay?”
My throat clogged up. I nodded.
I couldn’t speak for a second, remembering what had happened.
His arms flexed around me before he was turning me.
He rolled me to my back and loomed over me. His gaze was dark, serious.
“What happened?”
God. It washed over me again.
I closed my eyes, trying to shove it back. I needed to hold it at bay.
My voice came out raspy. “A panic attack.”
His eyes flashed. Fierce. “Why?”
I shrugged, looking up at him. “Trauma?”
His mouth flattened. “You know what I’m talking about. What brought it on?”
I looked away. This hurt. This was me being vulnerable in a way that sex could never make me feel exposed. I was raw on a whole other level.
I said, “I was triggered. I think. But who knows what brings those on sometimes. Might’ve been the mix of Peter being at my school. Or Liam talking about how great my life is. Suddenly I was back in my bedroom. That guy was pushing me against the wall, telling me an attack was coming.”
It was there again, pushing to be set free. It was in the back corner of my mind.
I couldn’t let it out. I did, and it would take over.
He eased me back, a finger pushing against my stomach. “Are you okay?”
His words were so soft.
He was looking at me with such tenderness.
I was almost not able to handle him looking at me that way. A girl could cry, seeing love like that looking back at her.
His hands smoothed up both of my sides, a trail of warmth and shivers coming after.
“Let me in.” He pushed on my hip. “Tell me more.”
I sighed. My hands went up his arms, curling over his shoulders, then moving to his neck. “I lost it.”
My lungs were rattled.
I told him what I could handle telling.
“I applied four times for one of their undergraduate internships. Got turned down every time, and I shouldn’t have. I was one of the best of the applicants, but I was rejected every year. Got the scholarships, but not me being in their building, learning from them. I was back there, feeling that same way and listening to Liam talk about how great Hoda thought my life was, how cool it was for me to have Peter Francis as my dad…” I had to stop. My throat was shrinking, as if a piece of bark had been pushed in there. “All I kept thinking was that they didn’t know shit. Over and over again. And then Quinn was in front of me.” I shuddered. “Heard her voice. Felt when she drugged me. It all went black.”
I was trembling again, remembering.
“I came to and Peter was holding me. I was bleeding. Then I bolted. I didn’t want anyone to see me like that, and I wanted somewhere safe so I could regroup, get control of myself.”
I lifted my eyes, and it took effort. My head was encased in cement, and I could barely see him through the sludge.
My voice broke, whispering, “I felt you pick me up, and that was it for me. I knew I could disappear completely. You had me. You’d take care of me.”
His hands sank into my hips at my words. He closed his eyes. “Shit.” A hiss from him. He bent forward, his forehead resting against mine, and he raised a hand to cup the side of my face. “I’m struggling here, because what you need to hear and what you want to hear are two separate things.”
I eased back.
“What do I need to hear?”
His eyes slid to mine, looking raw. “You cut your counseling too quick.”
Oh. Oh no.
He was right. I did not want to hear those words. I began to ease away from him, but his hands tightened, holding me in place.
“You gotta talk, B. If not to a counselor, then to me, and if not me, then someone.”
“I have talked to you—”
“Not enough.” His words were gruff. “Not enough. You gotta talk more, and you need someone to guide you there, to really get all that crap that went on during the kidnapping. You need help shoveling all that shit out. I can be here. I can be a listening ear, hold you, kiss you, make you feel and think other things, but I’m not a pro. You need someone who knows trauma, and you’ve been traumatized. I heard how your voice went soft when you said the word. I felt your pulse skip a beat. Nothing wrong with admitting to being traumatized.”
Nope.
Hands to his chest, I shoved out of his arms and slid across the bed.
I wasn’t fast enough.
He snaked after me, grabbing me, and he hauled me back in his arms.
“Let me go!”
“No.”
He just held me in a cement hold, but he didn’t pull us back to the bed. “Okay. If you don’t want to talk in bed, we’ll talk somewhere else.”
We were up and moving, and we were going to the shower.
I relaxed slightly.
He turned the water on, set me on the counter. “It’s not going to be that type of shower, babe.”
Babe. I gritted my teeth. “I’m not liking the use of that word right now.”
“Don’t care.”
He was taking his clothes off.
My shirt was off.
My underwear next.
He lifted me back again, carrying me into the shower. He backed me all the way against the wall, the water coming down on us, and he lowered his head so he was staring directly into my eyes. “I see you’re dealing, but you’re not. You’re barely treading water. You’re submerging yourself so much that you don’t even know you stopped breathing long ago. Bailey.” He sighed, a caress of his breath against my face. He lowered his forehead to mine again, his lips brushing over me. “I need you with me. This fight against my grandfather, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. He’s making moves every day. I’m countering him, and that’s just business. I gotta tell you something, but you can’t freak. You can’t panic. You have to promise me that you trust me. Do you trust me?”
Oh God. What happened?
But I was nodding without even thinking about it. I did trust Kash. I trusted him more than I trusted myself.
“Good.” His thumb rubbed over my cheek. “He posted bail for Quinn.”
I stiffened.
Feeling that, he said, “That’s his first move that he scored a hit. His first personal move.”
“Aren’t they all personal?”
I lashed out those words, but I was reeling inside.
Quinn was out. Quinn was free.
Quinn could do it all over again.
I began to pull away. “I have to go—”
He moved me back against the wall.
“No! Kash—” Another try.
His hips helped to anchor me this time.
“Kash, stop it. I have to go—”
He buried his head in my neck. His hand went down to my hip, and he lifted it as he moved between my legs. “No, babe. You’re not going. You’re not running.” His other hand went down my other hip, and he lifted that leg, too.
I was completely suspended in the air, being pressed against the wall, and I felt him at my entrance.
But he didn’t move in.
I wanted him to move in.
“Kash.” His name was a plea from me. I wanted him. I wanted him to make me forget.
The panic.
I couldn’t deal.
It was rising.
It was threatening me.
It was choking me.
I gasped, searching for his mouth at the same time. “I need—”
His hand raised up, catching my face, and he paused, his lips over mine. “What do you need?”
What did I need?
Fear was shoving through. Desire was stomping it down.
Hysteria was there, trying to climb up. Inch by inch.
Pleasure, as he began dropping kisses down my jawline, pushed that down, too.
I was in a state of upheaval. One side pushed. The other side pulled. So many emotions were swirling, fighting, and then I latched on to his head.
I pulled him back.
I made him look into my eyes.
I told him what I needed.
Me.
I decided.
“You said this wasn’t going to be that kind of shower.”
His eyes darkened. “I wasn’t intending it to be. Clothes got taken off and I wasn’t fully thinking things through.” He waited a beat, though he knew. He knew. “What do you need, B.? I’ll give it to you.” He bent in, a tender kiss to my mouth. “I’ll give you anything in the world.”
“You want me to talk? You talk.”
He tried to pull away.
My hands held him firm. My legs wound tighter around him.
I added roughly, “I want to know every move your grandfather is making. I want to know every move you’re making.”
His eyes were hot and smoldering. “Sometimes I make moves spur-of-the-moment. Can’t run all of them by you.”
“Then run what you can by me. I want to be a part of it. It’s the only way I’ll beat what’s inside of me.”
I had to know.
I had to be prepared.
I couldn’t have another hand over my mouth, a voice whispering in my ear that men are going to break in.
I couldn’t take another pinprick that makes the world go black.
I hated the rough hands, the rough handling.
The drug in me.
No more of those moments, so that meant I had to know instead.
He was studying me, then nodded. “Okay. Deal.” He nipped my lips with his, and I felt him grin against them. “What else do you need?”
I reached down, found him, wrapped my hand around him, and moved over him. “What do you think?”
That said, he pushed inside at the same time I sank down.
He gave me exactly what else I wanted.
I pulled a shirt over my head later. “How bad was it, really?”
We were both getting dressed after the shower, and my stomach growled the introduction to a composition by the next Bach prodigy. Kash lifted his head, grinned at me, and patted my tummy. “I’ll order pizza. You need food.”
It was after one in the morning, but Kash didn’t care.
It’d been a while since I ordered pizza after midnight.
He walked past me, his own T-shirt falling down to mold so perfectly and so yummy over his backside. “Bad, but not many were actually there. Only a few.”
I trailed after him to the living room. Both of us had pulled on sweatpants, and they were heaven on skin. If I could find the same sweatpants, looking like jeans, I’d buy the entire company in stock. Genius.
“What do you mean? Who?”
I was asking about my meltdown. Kash was trying not to answer my questions. It was annoying.
“Your buds. Your advisor. The guards. Peter.”
I frowned, braking in the middle of the living room. “That’s a lot.”
He threw me a look, grabbing up his phone. “It wasn’t. Really. And who cares. You’re human, Bailey. The shit you went through, you were gonna crash. If you think you weren’t, you’re only fooling yourself.” He waved his phone in the air. “Pull up some psych text on trauma, read it into that head of yours, and you’ll know I’m right.”
Shit.
He was right.
Still.
Annoying.
I grabbed some water, and thinking on it a second, I poured a glass of wine for myself. Kash wouldn’t want one. Taking both beverages into the living room, I curled up on the couch and settled in. Kash ordered the pizza, went to the door and let the guards know, then came back. He paused before me and took in the wine in my hand. “Put it down.”
I did.
He scooped me up, depositing me so I was on his lap. Then he reached for the wine and handed it back. His arms wrapped around me and he nuzzled into my neck. “Better.”
I relaxed back into him. He was right. Much better.
“There’s going to be a banquet at the end of your semester. Peter talked to me about it. He wants to invite all your classmates and announce the internship winners.”
Okay. Not as much better anymore.
Kash slid a hand under my top and it splayed out over my stomach. His thumb started rubbing back and forth. “He’ll be pissed I’m telling you, because he wants to do it, but you gotta know.”
My breath was suspended.
He nuzzled just behind my ear. “He’s getting companies interested in you.”
“Other internships?”
“No. Jobs. They already want to make a job offer, but they’re waiting so they don’t piss him off. You weren’t going to get the internship, because your dad was going to offer you a job at lunch today.”
That’s why he wanted to go out afterward.
“Oh my God.”
He kissed my jaw. “Whatever you decide, congratulations, but I need to inject my two cents. I think you could write some program like your dad. I think yours could blow his out of the water, and I think you could be your own boss. That’s what I’d do, but it’s not my decision. It’s yours.”
My bank account was seriously dwindling. A job would help cushion that.
I’d already laid so much at Kash’s feet to deal with. I’d figure the job out later, but I turned and met his gaze. He grinned. I grinned. We were both grinning, and I knew we were both happy right then and there. That was important. That was good.
“I love you.”
His eyes grew tender. “I love you, too.”
There were words to say. I wanted to know more about my meltdown. Kash was going to avoid it, but it was because he knew that wasn’t a good experience for me to relive. But I was okay with it.
In that moment, warmth seeped all over in me, and I didn’t think it was the wine.