Murder_ A Sinful Secrets Romance - Ella James Page 0,92

to him, to hold him. This is Barrett. I think for a moment, I just can’t believe it.

Slowly—maybe seconds, though it feels like years—my mind regroups; my pulse steadies; the empathetic horror that’s gripping me lessens just enough to let me feel a heady swell of need—to comfort him.

Cold sweat sweeps me as I reach for him again. My hand touches his shoulder, and his body stills for just a second. Then he’s sobbing brokenly again. He holds his head and shudders—I hear “Breck”—and something changes; I guess he starts shaking harder, less like crying, more like shivering. His sobs soften and run longer: wracking sobs that fade off into low whimpers. And every few seconds, I hear his breath catch on an inhalation, quivering a few times as if he’s almost hyperventilating.

I rub his damp back. “Barrett?”

I think he feels me, and I feel him try to get control—his shoulders clench, his body stills—but I know how it is: he’s on auto-pilot, somewhere else, someplace where a part of him remains. Still wracked with soft, pained sobs, he reaches out and fumbles with a pillow, pulls it to his face, wrapping both arms around it like he’s trying to anchor himself.

“Barrett… Bear.” My voice sounds small and hesitant amidst his solid sounds. I get him by his shoulders, try to turn him on his back so I can wrap myself around him. Fail. His skin is soaked, his body coiled and rigid. Shudders start to wrack him, and every few seconds, I hear a ghost sound seep around the muffler of the pillow.

I crawl over his bent legs and come around in front of him. I look at his long fingers, dug into the pillow, pressing it against his face.

After a breath of hesitation, I reach out and stroke a light hand down his forearm.

“Hey, Barrett…”

His chest and shoulders move more rhythmically, and when I try to gently pull the pillow down, I hear his hollow-sounding breaths, realize he’s right there on the edge of hyperventilating.

Fuck. What do I do?

I stretch out on the bed beside him, scoot in close, and wrap my arm around his upper back. He’s so much wider than I am, my arm can’t reach too far; I clutch his shoulder and hold on.

I curl my body close to his and rub his cool, damp skin. Chills spread underneath my hand. He gives no other clue he knows I’m here.

I remember something from my own dark time. When I dissociated once at Helga’s office…

I tap him on the arm—a steady tap, tap, tap—and with my right hand, the arm I’m lying on, I reach out and touch his chest. I tap both places.

“Barrett—it’s Gwenna.”

I scoot closer still, and stop my left hand’s tapping, wrapping my arm a little more tightly around him, trying to hold him to me. He’s still coiled in pain, still shaking.

“Barrett…baby.” I press my lips against his throat and run my hand up from his back into his hair. The curls are sweaty. Everywhere our skin touches, I feel his chills. I spread my fingers through his damp curls, stroking softly.

“Hey…you’re safe. I’ve got you.” To my own ears, I sound scared and stupid.

He drags in a deep breath, and his shoulders twitch. I shift positions just a little, so the pillow in front of his face is right under my neck. Then I wrap my hand around his head and pull him up against my chest.

“I’ve got you. I’m not letting go.” I hold him and I whisper and I stroke him and it hurts. To see someone so strong and capable— To see anyone in so much pain…

I feel the pillow pulled away and feel him bow his head. I want to look down at him, check on him. Instead I kiss his hair, offering him privacy. A second later, his face presses against my chest. His face is hot and wet, his breaths warm and still fast. My heart aches as I smooth his curls.

Jesus, if he does this every night…

Breath quivers through his chest and throat, ragged breaths like aftershocks.

When I finally glance down, I see his eyelids cracked, but can’t tell where he’s looking.

“You awake?” I whisper.

“I don’t know.” The words are raspy, almost whimpered.

I hold him tighter.

“Sorry,” he says roughly.

“No, sweetheart.”

He starts to shake a little harder.

I lift my arm from his back. “Just a second. Let me get…”

I pull the duvet up over his shoulders, leaning up so I can tuck it around his