“Who…?” Gwen tried to catch her breath. Her hands moved forward and stopped against his chest. Smooth, warm skin. Hard muscles beneath her palms and fingers. He was a brick wall—an enormous brick wall. Terrified by the sheer size of the giant who sat in front of her on her bed, in her bed, she pushed back.

“Cease.”

That one word, spoken with gentle authority, shocked her. Cease? Who said cease? And who said it like that? A voice so deep, a timbre so rich. It seemed familiar but… “Who”—she took a short breath—“are…” Larger gasps followed.

“Breathe,” he demanded in the same tone. “In…out…” He continued his litany, but Gwen couldn’t seem to follow. “Good God, not again.” It sounded like a curse and a sigh. Then strong lips covered her open mouth. Warm and determined, he stole her breath.

Then he gave it back.

Calm. Steady. Even.

The hands that covered her shoulders moved. One palmed her head, long fingers holding her steady until her breathing matched his own. The other splayed her chest, directly over her heart, as if willing the erratic beat to slow.

It beat the hell out of a paper bag.

He pulled back. But his mouth drew upon her lips, ending his unconventional first aid with what could only be a kiss.

He did not release her. Her head remained in the palm of his hand, her back supported by the circle of his arm, his other hand still covered her chest.

Greylen couldn’t have let go if his life depended on it. Too many emotions and not one of them in check. He’d slept as never before. That ache he was so used to was gone.

He awoke as always, in that hour before dawn, but ’twas the first time he had not to reach out. No pain greeted him, no emptiness. Instead he held her closer and kissed her. He felt her sorrow afterward and asked her of its cause, yet she’d succumbed to sleep. Her steady, even breaths, warm upon his chest, lulled him to a light slumber. He’d felt her stir when she first awoke, then sensed her panic.

Anyone else he would have soothed with words. But for some reason he knew she would not have listened. That same awareness told him now that she was bracing for a fight.

He wanted to kiss her again. Instead, he brushed his fingers across her face. Errant wisps, freed from the braid fashioned the night before, swept back once again.

“If you’re done being my human respirator, I’d like to see my chart.”

Greylen smiled—riled was a very becoming state for this woman. “And just how did you plan on seeing this chart?” he asked her.

She obviously heard the amusement in his voice, but her now relaxed facial expression warred with her ridiculous attempts to push him away. “Listen, mister—”

“You will call me Greylen.”

“I will call the authorities.”