Sweet Possession (Sweet #5)(13)

“Damn it, Malone,” she huffed when the elevator doors closed. “I don’t care what you were hired to do. You aren’t staying in my room.”

“The name is Connor. Use it. And get over it. We’re going to be up close and personal for the next two weeks. My advice is to quit bitching and resign yourself to the inevitable.”

She closed her eyes and bumped her head against the back of the elevator. She knew she sounded petulant and unreasonable, but the idea of him being in her personal space was seriously freaking her out.

Her breath huffed out in jerky little spurts until her vision blurred and she grew light-headed. She was dimly aware of Connor’s frown and a muttered curse, but then, that shouldn’t surprise her. It seemed it was all he did around her.

The elevator doors opened but that didn’t relieve the tightness in her chest. She stood helpless against the wall, unable to make her legs cooperate.

Black spots danced in front of her eyes and the world seemed to get smaller and dimmer with each passing second.

Connor yanked her from the elevator and she found herself plopped onto one of the leather couches in the small sitting area on her floor.

“Breathe, Lyric. Look at me.”

When she didn’t immediately do as he’d demanded, he coaxed her chin upward with gentle fingers. “Look at me,” he said again. “That’s it. Focus. Now breathe with me. Just like this.”

She watched as he inhaled deeply and then exhaled in one smooth motion.

“Think about what you’re doing. Watch me. Do what I do. I won’t let anything hurt you. You can trust me.”

If she could manage the breath, she’d laugh. Trust him? He had no idea what he was asking. Trust was as foreign to her as the things most people took for granted. Love. Friendship. Companionship.

His fingers stroked soothingly over her cheek and it was all she could do not to lean into his touch and rub like a cat. It shocked her how good it felt to be comforted, to be touched by someone who didn’t want something from her she wasn’t willing to give.

She sighed and closed her eyes as some of the awful pressure in her chest eased. She could literally feel her lungs open up and shudder with relief as fresh air rushed in.

Her hands shook and her knees were so wobbly she’d never make it down the hall to her room. How humiliating to fall apart all because she was faced with the prospect of sharing her space with Connor Malone. Wouldn’t the tabloids have a field day with this? Superstar suffers panic attack and passes out in hotel elevator.

“Where’s your room key?” Connor asked quietly.

Her fingers trembled so much she nearly dumped her clutch on her feet.

He took the purse, and, after a moment of digging, he flashed the room card. He handed her back the bag. “We need to get you to your room. Can you make it if I help you?”

She nodded, furious with herself for allowing this to happen. Embarrassed. Gutted for making such an idiot of herself.

Gritting her teeth, she clutched at his arm as she rose from the couch.

“What room number?”

“All the way to the end,” she whispered. “Last one on the left.”

“Okay, take it nice and slow. Hold on to my arm and don’t get in a hurry.”

With each step, she regained more of her strength and some of the panic abated. By the time they reached her room, her knees had stopped shaking. Connor slid the card into the slot and opened her door. A rush of cool air blasted her in the face and gave her a much-needed shock.

“Christ, it’s like a meat locker in here,” Connor said as he ushered her inside.

“I like sleeping in the cold,” she mumbled. “With the covers up to my ears.”

Connor sat her on the edge of the bed. “Do you have anything to drink in here?”

“There’s water in the fridge.”

“You need something a little stronger than water.”

“I don’t drink,” she said defensively. “No matter what you might read about me.”

“I wasn’t suggesting alcohol,” he said dryly. “If anyone will be drinking, it’ll be me. I was thinking more along the lines of something with caffeine in it for you.”

“Caffeine makes me jittery and I don’t sleep well.”

He went over to the fridge and returned with a bottle of cold water. He opened it and shoved it toward her. “Drink.”

She sipped at the refreshing liquid and took in several steadying breaths. “I’m fine now. Really. I’m sorry. I feel like an idiot for losing it like that.”

He sat beside her on the bed and was silent for a long moment. He seemed to be studying her—or the issue—she wasn’t sure which. The idea of him analyzing her made her twitch. Enough shrinks had done that to last her a lifetime.

“Why did you lose it, Lyric?”

She frowned. She hadn’t expected him to be so . . . blunt. Most people danced around her. The few times she’d ever had a panic attack in front of someone else, they’d pretended it didn’t happen, and she was more than happy to do the same.

He cocked his head sideways, and she could feel his gaze boring into her. Lifting and peeling back layers that she was helpless to defend against.

“Does my being in your room scare you that badly?” he asked softly.

Her nostrils flared and it was on the tip of her tongue to deny that anything scared her. But that would be pretty stupid, and Connor Malone wasn’t stupid.