My Beloved ~ H.S.

Chapter Fifty Seven: Under Pressure

Where only seconds before I was reveling in the feeling of his weight on top of me, I now feel as though I'm suffocating under the pressure. Doing everything I can to keep the panic at bay, I begin to take deep breaths, sucking the air in through my lungs and pushing it out forcefully from my mouth. Harry probably thinks I'm just breathing heavily from the heat of the moment, and I pray that he doesn't notice I'm actually in the midst of a breakdown. I squeeze my eyes tight and try to push away whatever is happening to me. When the sensations only intensify, I realize that this is a battle I cannot win right now, and I bring my hands up to push at his chest. He doesn't seem to notice as he continues to kiss down my neck and throat. My vision begins to transform into a tunnel that grows smaller and smaller and I know I need to say something, but my speech seems to be failing me.

I gather the strength from somewhere inside me to gasp, "Harry, stop! I can't...breathe..." He ceases everything immediately and pushes himself up with his hands, his arms still caged around me, looking at me fiercely, his eyes going round and alarmed.

"What's wrong?" He pants, searching my face for answers. I instinctively cover my chest with my arm and when he notices, he grabs his shirt where I tossed it to the side and hands it to me to cover myself with. I wrap the shirt around my chest as a make-shift bra and focus on his eyes, the firelight creating gold specs that dance within the green depths. My entire body feels as though it's going to sink right into the ground, and remaining centered on his eyes is the only thing keeping me buoyant. It's like there's a huge rock sitting on top of my chest, even though Harry has lifted up off of me, giving me the space to breathe. He must see that I'm struggling to take in air because he begins to roll off of me, but I grab onto his arms, digging my fingers into his triceps. Even though being here with him like this is apparently what started this episode, he is the only thing keeping me from loosing it completely. "Breathe...", he whispers. "Just breathe baby... like you tell me, remember? Breathe...", he instructs again, demonstrating by sucking in a big breath, and I do as he says. "Now hold it...good, now breathe out." His eyes look terrified but he remains calm as he nods his head up and down, and I can feel the sensation beginning to subside a bit. He continues to breathe with me slowly, in and out, just like I've done with him on several occasions. "Good girl, keep breathing with me." I can feel my nails digging into his flesh and I hope I'm not hurting him, but I can't seem to let go. As if reading my mind, he reaches around to take my right hand as he balances on one arm, then slowly pries my fingers off his muscles. He brings my hand around to place it over his buttercup tattoo, over his heart. "I'm right here baby, I've got you. Feel my heart beating?" He asks, and I nod as I concentrate on the steady beat. "Try and match my breathing ok? In and out...in and out..." My breathing becomes slower and slower, until eventually I am able to loosen my hold on his other arm and blink my eyes several times to clear my vision. As the anxiety finally begins to melt away, it's replaced by another emotion. Pure and utter embarrassment. I slap my free hand over my eyes, unable to look at him any longer now that I am almost feeling back to myself, and the realization of what just happened settles in.

"Oh my God Harry...", I whimper as I feel the tears threaten to escape. "I'm so sorry..." I can feel the wetness under my hand before I have a chance to suck them back in, and I want to die from the humiliation. I now wish I COULD sink into the floor just to remove myself from this situation, but before I can focus much more on my mortification, I feel Harry roll away and tug at my hand.

"Hey...shhh. You have nothing to be sorry for Kathryn", he says as he finally manages to pry my hand away. I look anywhere but him as I wipe at my face and press my arm closer to my chest. Mercifully, he moves away completely and I wonder if he's just going to leave me here. I wouldn't blame him if he did. But he returns seconds later and works his hand under my back, lifting me delicately. "Come on, sit up a bit", he instructs gently. Then he eases the shirt I was wearing over my head. Once I realize what he's doing, I relax a bit and let him lift one arm into the armhole, then the other. After the shirt is securely around my torso again, I pull his shirt from my chest and hand it to him. I still don't feel strong enough to look at him, but I see out of my peripheral vision that he expertly pulls his shirt back on and stuffs his arms though the armholes. I take a quick peek at him from under my lashes and I'm immediately sorry I did. I know he can't help it, but he's looking at me like I'm a bomb about to explode.