right, sure.” She opened the cabinet below the sink and handed him a fresh towel.
She turned to leave, but he was already stepping out of the shower before she got there. The towel was secured around his waist, but everything else was bare. A flash of desire stabbed her.
“I …” she said, searching for something to say and trying to keep her eyes on his face instead of on the smooth muscles of his chest and those tattoos that currently looked very wet and lickable. Stop it. “I think I have some cortisone cream around here. You’re probably going to need it.”
Keeping one hand holding the towel, he used the other to take the rubber band out of his wet hair. “Georgia—”
But before he could say anything more, there were heavy footsteps on the stairs and someone else calling her name. Her heart leapt against her ribs, and she stepped out into the hallway. Colby was trundling up the stairs, his features pinched with worry. When he saw Georgia, his fierce expression relaxed. “Jesus, I saw the door wide open and a broken glass and both of you were gone. I got worried. What—”
Of course, Keats took that moment to step out of the bathroom in his half-naked, still-wet ensemble. Colby’s eyes went wide.
And everything came crashing down around Georgia.
“What the hell?” Colby didn’t know what to make of finding Keats sopping wet and mostly naked in Georgia’s hallway. He hadn’t been gone that long. The guy couldn’t work that fast, especially with someone as standoffish as Georgia. And if he’d managed to—
“Georgia,” Keats said, his worried voice breaking through the theories racing around in Colby’s head. “Are you okay?”
Colby followed Keats’s gaze. Georgia had backed up against the wall, her eyes were closed, and her chest was moving at a way-too-rapid rate.
Keats put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Georgia?”
She flinched at the touch and shrank back farther again, her palms pressing against the wall behind her. Keats moved his hand away, giving her space.
Colby inched closer. “Georgia, hey, sweetheart, it’s okay. Are you having an asthma attack?”
She shook her head, a quick, darting movement. Her eyes remained tightly shut.
Keats sent Colby a what-the-fuck-do-we-do look, and Colby’s training kicked in. “Keats, run downstairs and see if you can find a paper bag, something for her to breathe into. She’s hyperventilating.”
“Right.” Keats snapped into action and jogged past Colby.
Sweat had broken out on Georgia’s skin, and her chest continued to heave. Colby had dealt with this a few times before—recently, with a submissive trainee at The Ranch who turned out to be claustrophobic in restraints. “Georgia, I need you to try to slow your breathing if you can. Are you having a panic attack?”
A quick, tight nod. Her fingers curled against the wall.
“Okay, it’s all right,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm and even for her. “Keats is going to get something to help, but I want you to listen to me and try to take a deep, slow breath. You’re okay. You’re safe. Panic can’t hurt you.”
To her credit, she gave it a shot. He saw her puff up for it. But she was too far gone, and her breaths turned even more rapid. Tears slipped down her cheeks. Then she swayed on her feet, and he realized she was going down. He lunged forward and got his hands on her before she collapsed to the floor.
Her eyelids fluttered open, then shut again. She was still conscious, not deadweight in his arms, but she was probably dizzy as shit from the lack of air and the panic. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.”
He got his arms situated beneath her back and knees and lifted her against his chest. Keats charged up the stairs with an empty pharmacy bag. “Oh shit, did she pass out?”
“Not yet, but we need to get her lying down.” He held her tight to him, but her body was still jerking with the quick breaths.
Keats hurried past him and pulled open the first door in the hall. But it was a linen closet. “We need a couch or a bed.”
Keats swung open the next door, revealing a small guest room. “In here.”
Good. That’d be better than invading her personal space in her master bedroom. But when he carried her in and saw a set of binoculars on a small table next to the window and a small bullet vibrator, he realized he’d seriously failed on the personal space issue. This wasn’t just a guest room, this was the room—the one she watched him from. A twist of desire went with that image, his libido having no decency when it came to appropriate time and place to get fired up. But he ignored it and focused on the task at hand. Georgia needed to lie down and get her breath back. He’d worry about the awkwardness this might cause later.
The bed was made, so he laid her atop the mint green comforter, and Keats put the bag up against her mouth.
“Breathe, it’s going to be okay. We’ve got you,” Keats said, brushing her hair off her damp forehead in a tender gesture.
Georgia exhaled into the bag and blinked her eyes open long enough to give Keats a grateful look.
Colby frowned, a kick of jealousy going through him. Jealousy and something else. Watching the two of them share a little moment, Keats half dressed and Georgia lying in bed, had his thoughts going in a dangerous direction again. He shoved the thoughts aside. Clearly, it’d been too long since he’d had someone in his bed. His brain was in one-track mode.
Focus.
The sound of the crinkling bag was the only noise for a few minutes, but to Colby’s relief, Georgia’s breathing started to regulate. “That’s it.”
When the breaths became long and steady, Keats left the room for a minute. He came back wearing a fluffy purple robe and carrying a wet washcloth. He kneeled next to the bed and wiped Georgia’s cheeks and forehead with gentle swipes, then folded the cloth and put it over her eyes.
Keats gave Colby a pointed look, then cocked his head toward the table. Colby didn’t waste a second. He slid away from the bed and discreetly tucked the vibrator into the half-open drawer of the side table. He eased it closed, hoping Georgia would think that was where she’d left it. He had a feeling she’d be mortified if she knew what they’d seen.
He stepped back toward the bed just as she was lowering the bag and pulling the towel away. Her dark eyes were clearer than they had been, but the set of her mouth was weary, like all her energy had been sapped. “I think I’m okay now.”
Colby reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. “Glad to hear it.”
She slowly pushed up onto her elbows. Her gaze skittered over to the table behind Colby. Worry flared there in her eyes, but when she looked back to him and apparently read no awareness on his face, she relaxed a bit. He could almost hear her thoughts. Phew, he hasn’t seen them yet.
She glanced at Keats. Her lips curved into a shaky smile when she saw him in her robe. “That’s a good look for you.”
Keats peered down at his purple ensemble and grinned. “I was having trouble keeping that towel on. I didn’t want to make you hyperventilate again. Or traumatize Colby.”
Colby snorted and she smirked. “That scary?”
“No, that impressive,” he said solemnly.
Georgia pressed her hand to her forehead and shook her head. “Shameless.”
Colby clamped his lips together, trying not to laugh. The shy Keats he’d known before had definitely left the building. He was charming the panic right out