Breathe by Lauren Jameson Page A

brow as something dark worked its way into the light. She didn’t like that question. Why didn’t she like that question?
    “I—” The words caught in her mouth as the darkness rolled over her again.
    Did you like that, little girl?
    The words from her past slammed into her with enough force that her knees buckled. Elijah caught her in his arms before she could fall.
    “Let me go. Let me out.” She shoved at Elijah’s chest, her breath beginning to rasp in her throat.
    No. No . She wouldn’t let these memories ruin this for her. She was stronger than that.
    She struggled to inhale, then worked to release the breath again as Elijah dropped to his knees in front of her and released the cuffs that bound her ankles. She was trembling enough that once her feet were free she stumbled.
    This time when Elijah caught her up in his arms, she didn’t shove him away.
    “Thank you,” Samantha whispered through numb lips. Elijah scowled in response, snapping at a young man in a collar who stood nearby to bring them a blanket and a bottle of water.
    He settled into an overstuffed armchair, Samantha on his lap. She curled into him, her breathing slowing as she registered whose arms she was in.
    She was with Elijah. She was in his arms, at the club, and she was safe.
    “Drink.” A fuzzy blanket was wrapped around her, and Elijah held a bottle of water up to her lips. Obediently she sipped at the liquid, felt its coolness ease some of her throat’s swelling from panic.
    She shook her head when Elijah held the bottle up again. She felt him shift beneath her as he set the bottle aside.
    Then he caught her chin in his hand and turned her head so that she looked right at him.
    “What happened there?” Elijah pinned her with the intensity of his stare, and Samantha squirmed.
    “Nothing. Just momentary panic.” She kept her voice light. She had spent a very long time trying to put the past behind her, and she wasn’t about to drag it out now.
    “I told you not to lie.” Elijah spoke sternly, as if bestowing an important lesson, and prickles of guilt rode out over Samantha’s skin.
    She didn’t know quite why, but she really didn’t like the thought of disappointing him.
    She didn’t know what to say, so she pressed her lips together tightly, sealing the words inside.
    “You liked being bound.” It was clear that Elijah wasn’t asking her a question. Still, she nodded in agreement, though the movement was stiff and jerky.
    The sensation of being locked into the cuffs, the chains—it had been more than sexual for her. It had made her feel free.
    “You enjoyed my touch on your breasts. And you liked it when I used my mouth on you.” Again, Elijah spoke surely. Samantha felt as though she should be embarrassed to be dissecting their encounter like this, but Elijah was so matter-of-fact about it that it didn’t make sense for her to feel mortified.
    “I did,” Samantha agreed softly. There was no use denying it, not when he’d made her come the way he had—in public, no less.
    “So it must have been something after. Either when I released you from the cuffs or when I spoke to you.” Bingo. Samantha schooled her face into what she hoped was an expressionless mask.
    This was not open for discussion. Not now, not ever.
    “Samantha.” There was a command in his voice, and Samantha found that she couldn’t look away. There was deep concern in his eyes, and the depth of it startled her.
    Why should he care about any of this? Why would he bother to find out anything about her? It was clear that she was interested in him physically. Why would he want any more?
    “I can’t.” Samantha tried to rid herself of the tremble in her voice. She’d never been the type to enjoy feeling like a damsel in distress.
    “Can’t or won’t?” Elijah asked.
    Samantha didn’t hear any judgment in his tone, but she reacted as if she had.
    “I won’t.” Struggling to free herself from his arms, Samantha looked away, feeling the