Page 19 of The Pakhan's Sold Bride

Her breathing is sharp and fast. Her hand reaches out and grabs my arm, her fingers digging into me.

“Lara, look at me. You’re okay,” I say again. Her eyes meet mine.

Her body is soft against me, her scent washing over me.

She looks bewildered as I turn away from the gate, not willing to put her down because she feels too good in my arms.

She hasn’t said anything, and her eyes are still wide.

“Are you afraid of heights?” I ask, carrying her back towards the house.

“I-I-I shouldn’t have climbed the gate,” she whispers so softly I can barely hear her.

Chapter 6 - Lara

My heart is racing with panic. My skin is cold, and my head is spinning with fear.

I can barely get a breath of air.

My lungs are screaming and aching, and my vision has gone blurry.

That was so stupid of me. I could have hurt myself badly.

I don’t know what would have happened if Nestor hadn’t caught me.

His arms are wrapped around me right now—they feel so good. His body feels so good.

Oh my fuck, he’s not even wearing a shirt. Okay, this is okay.

Don’t panic even more now. Just breathe.

I close my eyes and the sensations of being held against him get more intense, distracting me, but not in the way I want to be distracted, so I quickly open them again.

He smells amazing.

Like pine forests soaked in fresh rain. And dark musk. Tempting and masculine.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soothing and deep.

The panic is beginning to subside, and I manage to take a breath, my lungs filling with air.

But the memory of what happened all those years ago is too sharp in my mind.

“I broke my ankle,” I blurt out.

“Uh. No, you didn’t,” he says, confused, his hand drifting over my body, along my leg, and wrapping around my ankle as he carefully looks at it.

“Not now, I mean before. When I was younger, I think it was the first time in my life when I realized my father was selfish and didn’t always have the best intentions for me. My father made me deliver something to this really horrible guy. He had three massive dogs, nasty, biting dogs—and my father made me do the delivery because he didn’t want to go onto the property. But he didn’t tell me that it wasn’t the right thing. Whatever it was, I was dropping off. It wasn’t the right amount or something, and the guy got so angry he told his dogs to get me. They all came snarling and running after me and I climbed a tree to get away. I was crying and I wasn’t watching where I was going, and I slipped. I broke my ankle. Since then, I’ve been terrified of heights—and falling—I was so stupid to try and climb that gate, I just—I just—"

My voice trails off.

Why in the world did I just tell him all of that? That had nothing to do with him. The memory just flooded through me now, and it spilled from my mouth without me having a chance to think about it.

Nestor pulls me close to his chest, running his hand up my back, along my neck, knotting his fingers in my hair. I close my eyes and rest my cheek against his shoulder. I forget my worries for a moment, enjoying his hands on me.

“You’re okay, little one,” he says gently. His voice vibrates in his chest, rumbling against my body.

I take a deep, slow breath and let myself feel safe. My heart is beating a little slower now, the fear subsiding.

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