Breathless by Cole Gibsen Page A

his arms—and the reptile in them—at me.
    “What?” I jerked back and tripped on a loose plank at the end of the dock. I landed on my butt on the sandy shore. “Are you crazy? There’s no way I’m holding that thing.”
    “But you have to hold him. It wil help you.”
    I stood on wobbly legs. Sand stuck to my ankles, making my skin itch, but I didn’t dare pause to brush it off. “In what universe is getting my face bitten off considered helpful?”
    Bastin snorted. “Please, Edith. Do you think I’d let that happen? Back home we keep these things as pets.”
    “Real y?”
    “No.” He smiled. “Are you kidding? Al igators are mean as hel .”
    “Bastin!” I moved my arms as if to shove him but stopped when the gator whipped his tail. A squeak escaped my throat.
    Bastin laughed and stepped forward. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. But seriously, I want you to take the al igator. You only have to hold him for a minute. I promise.” He took another step, which put the gator within biting distance to me.
    My pulse skipped as my heart played hopscotch inside my chest. “What’s the big deal? What does it matter if I hold the stupid al igator or not?”
    “It matters,” he answered, “because you told me that you’re afraid of your stepdad because he’s scary, mean, and he wants to send you away.
    But I can guarantee you that this al igator is scarier, meaner, and—not only does he want to send you away—he’d like to eat you. Wouldn’t you agree that makes him worse than your stepdad?”
    “Yes. But I stil don’t see—”
    “The point is that you’re going to face this al igator. You’re going to overcome your fear, and you’re going to survive. After that, how bad can your stepdad real y be?”
    I licked my lips. His words made sense in a crazy sort of way. “But what if he bites me?”
    “He won’t.” Bastin’s eyes locked onto mine. “I’m here, and I won’t anything happen to you. I promise.”
    I believed him. Al I had to do was look into his eyes to know that he only wanted to help. And since he went through the trouble of catching the gator, the least I could do was try. “O-okay. I’l do it.”
    The grin he gave me made the threat of an al igator bite total y worth it. “Good.” He held out his arms. “Now I want you to slide between the al igator and me.”
    I swal owed hard and ducked beneath the thrashing reptile. When I stood I pressed myself against Bastin’s chest in order to put as much space as possible between me and the jaws of death. Too many emotions rol ed through me at once. The heart-squeezing anxiety of having an al igator invade my personal space coupled with the dizzying effects of Bastin’s salty-sweet ocean scented skin swayed me on my feet.
    “I want you to place your hands exactly where mine are,” Bastin said. “One hand wil grip his snout and the other wil support his body.”
    I tried to concentrate on his words, but al I think about were the hard lines of muscles pressed against my back. Focus, Edith! With trembling fingers, I reached for the al igator’s snout. The reptile’s eyes narrowed and he jerked in Bastin’s grip, his tail lashing dangerously close to my body.
    I whimpered and shrank against Bastin’s body.
    “It’s okay.” Bastin tilted his chin down so that his breath warmed the skin below my ear and sent delicious shivers racing down my spine. “I’ve got you. Try again.”
    Slowly, I reached out and ran my fingers along the top of the al igator’s snout. His scales were softer than I expected, leather-like. When I was convinced that I wouldn’t drop dead from a heart attack, I gathered the rest of my courage and wrapped my hand around the gator’s jaw.
    “Good job,” Bastin said. And while I couldn’t see his face, I could hear the smile in his voice. “The muscles that al igators use to close their jaws and crush prey are very strong,” he continued. “But the muscles they use to open their jaws are very