“Stop,” he groused, his hands cupping the sides of her face, his forehead falling to hers. “You didn’t do this to us, Isobel. This happened to you. Just breathe, pet.” His rough thumbs stroked along her cheekbones, making her blood hum in fizzling realisation because Mikel Easton was touching her. He was touching her a lot. “Yes, I am.” He let out a gruff sound that might have almost been a laugh. “Focus on that and focus on breathing.”
