Breathless の小説・ストーリー

Crysta makes a small, choked sound. And I can’t fucking breathe.

My breathe hitches and I forget how to breathe. I can already see the headlines forming 'heiress dies a shocking death from forgetting to breathe in the presence of a hot heir'......... yeah, that doesn't sound so good. He reaches his hand forward and brings his fingers to the front of my neck to grasp the other end of the necklace. The trail of his finger on my skin sets my body on fire and my breathing starts to become erratic. I think I hear him do a deep intake of breath but that could just be my imagination. This is pure torture.

“Breathe.” “I am breathing.” “Through your teeth. You do that when you’re freaking out.”

"Stay away from me, and don't make a fuss!" Unexpectedly, Lorenzo suddenly pushed Krystal's jaw hard back until the woman's back hit the passenger seat hard. Krystal's moans and her indistinct curses sounded intertwined as she felt a pain run up her spine. And when she was about to voice her protest for the umpteenth time, Lorenzo immediately stepped on the gas pedal so hard that Krystal again had to hold back her annoyance because her body was flung backwards.

His chest rose and fell painfully as he struggled to breathe. “Tell me… how do I breathe?”

Breathing all intense. Lord, not this.

Breathe in one two three four five Breathe out one two three four five Breathe in one two three four five Breathe out one two three four five Breathe in one two three four five Breathe out one two three four five

The air inside his chest seemed to have been sucked out by him, Sweet Pea was breathing hard, her cheeks were not sure whether because of lack of oxygen or because of being kissed by him, but Sweet Pea couldn't stand it anymore. With both hands pounding on his chest, Brene Brian was clearly still unsatisfied, but fortunately he still had a bit of humanity left, letting her go, Sweet Pea was freed, hastily sniffed to In contrast, Brene Brian was beside her, her breathing was very calm, her face was not red, her heart was not beating fast, her eyes were cold.

Then my arms – the numbness climbing like cold water rising, erasing sensation inch by inch until I couldn't feel the note cards I was holding and heard them hit the floor before I realized I'd dropped them. My chest. Someone was standing on my chest. Not pressing – standing. Full weight. Both feet. The pressure so complete that my lungs forgot how to expand and each breath became a negotiation – half an inhale, a quarter exhale, not enough, never enough, the oxygen entering my body and evaporating before it reached my blood. Breathe. Just breathe. You know how to breathe. You've been breathing for nineteen years. I couldn't.

She couldn't, her own breath a series of short, useless gasps. "Okay," he said, his voice unshaken. "New plan. We count. Breathe in with me. One... two... three... four." He breathed in deeply, demonstrating. "Hold. One... two... three. Now out. One... two... three... four... five."