by L A Pepper
“Don’t start hyperventilating again.”
“I’m not. I’m going to melt into a puddle.”
“Take some water,” I reached for the bottle.
“No. I’m too hot,” she said, which made no sense, then she reached for the buttons of her blouse, which she’d never re-buttoned after she fainted. And suddenly she was ripping her blouse off.
“What the hell are you doing?” I was feeling a lack of air in this elevator myself.
“It’s too hot I’m dying. You’ve seen plenty of naked women before.”
Well, yes, but this was different. I didn’t know why it was different, but it was, locked in this elevator with a woman who hated my guts. I was having a hard time hating her, after she just spent long minutes in my arms, pressed up against me, warm and heavy and needing my touch.
Immediately my own temperature went up. Her face was flushed and sweating and her skin her chest gleamed. “Chloe…” I said although I did not know what I had intended to say next. The sight of her creamy olive skin overwhelmed me. Nothing about this was sexy. She wore a simple blue bra, an everyday item of clothing, with only the slightest bit of lace trim, covering her full, round breasts. I shouldn’t want to fill my hands with them, feel their weight. I should not want to bend my head down and let my tongue taste her skin. She squirmed next to me, uncomfortable. I, too, was getting more and more uncomfortable.
She moaned and the sound shot right through me. “The air…” she said. “It’s too hot. I can’t breathe.”
“No. Yes you can. Chloe,” my voice was tight. I cleared my throat and shoved the water in her face. “Drink, dammit.”
She made a frustrated sound and took a swallow, then pulled away, her head twisting to the left. “Ugh, it’s not helping.”
I grabbed her discarded shirt and doused it with water. Not the brightest move, possibly because I couldn’t help thinking she should put it back on. Instead, I wiped her forehead with the damp shirt, down her face, to her neck. She sighed and closed her eyes. Leaning into me. “Yes…” when she swallowed, I followed the movement down her throat, running the compress down to her chest across the soft curves of her breast. I was going to hell.
“Distract me, Nick,” she said, and I damn near jumped out of my skin because I knew exactly how I wanted to distract her, and not only was this not the right time or place, not only was she vulnerable, not only did she hate me and would never have allowed me to touch her like this if she weren’t claustrophobic, but she was also my employee, and there was no way this could end well. I froze where I was, my hand between her breasts with the wet cloth, trying to cool her down but only managing to rile myself up.
“Tell me about your life, please. You’ve lived such an exciting life.” I laughed under my breath.
“My life is not that exciting, Chloe.” My voice was deeper and huskier than I wanted it to be. I brought my hand back up to her neck. “Lean forward,” I said, and she braced her forearms on her thighs. I pressed the wet cloth to the back of her neck and she took a big breath. And then another.
“That’s better, thank you. It is. You’ve gone everywhere. Done everything.”
I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see and left the wet shirt there on the back of her neck, draping the ends around her shoulders to her front. I poured a bit more of the water onto it so it to keep it cool and reached for the ponytail holder that had stopped doing its job. I let her hair free, and it fell around neck and shoulders.
“Oh no.” She tried to swipe at her hair. “It’s awful. It’s too hot.”
“Relax,” I whispered in her ear, then ran my fingers through the apple blossom scented locks and twisted it back up, into a knot on the top of her head, making sure to get all the straggling strands that were wet with sweat. She let her head loll on her neck and sighed. Dammit, I liked that. “You already know everything about me, sweetheart.” She took a shocked breath at the endearment. Why did I use that word? “You wrote a whole expose on my naughty life, remember?”
“That wasn’t you. That was just your public persona.” I blinked, surprised that she thought that way about me, that I was someone else under the billionaire playboy, the pretty empty face used to sell copies. “Tell me about the real you.”
Her words struck a chord within me and I was suddenly tightly strung. I needed something from her that had nothing to do with all that delicious skin I was struggling to ignore. I grunted. “No. Not me,” the thought terrified me and thrilled me at the same time. “You.” That thought thrilled me and terrified me too, but the idea of learning about her made me eager too. “Tell me about you. I don’t know anything about you except you have an excellent resume and you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” she sighed, and I hung on the next words— they might change my life. But the next thing she said wasn’t what I expected, “I’m from the country.”
I was half way between relief and disappointment that she’d backed away from telling me about her feelings for me. “So you’re a farm girl?”
“No. I mean, my parents raise honeybees and flowers and they have some fruit trees and a cottage garden, but no, not a farm. My dad is a poet and my mom writes cookbooks. Does some editing work on the side. No. But no farm. I grew up in the mountains, twenty minutes away from the nearest town. With a population of six hundred people.”
I had to laugh. “A real metropolis.”
“Yeah,” she said, and I’d never heard her voice so full of humor, so without that knife edge tension that she always had.
“It sounds like you had a perfect childhood.” I didn’t know if she could hear the envy in my voice.
“I guess it was. It’s beautiful up there. I know they wanted me to settle down with my childhood sweetheart, Leif.”
“Leaf? Like a tree leaf?”
This time she laughed. “No. Leif like Leif Erikson, the nordic explorer. Oh he was perfect, too. Tall and blonde and strong and all the girls in town were in love with him.”
“But you didn’t stay. You’re here in the land of tall buildings with death trap elevators. How did that happen?”
“I guess none of it was perfect for me. I wanted to travel the world. Make my mark. Face down the dangerous elevators. Really live. Like you.”
“Like me?” I drew back, only just realizing that I’d slid my fingers into her hair and was massaging her scalp.
“Dashing, rich, worldly. You’ve been on adventures I’ll only ever write about.”
“You’ve had a home like I’ll only ever dream about.”
She lifted her head and looked at me out of the corner of her eye. For a second I thought there was a flash of blue fire in her glance, but she dropped her head again. “Yeah and I guess I could have stayed to write poetry and harvest honey and marry Leif.”
She was already sweet as honey, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. “You write poetry?”
“No,” she laughed, and it came from the depths of her soul. “I don’t. I write articles. You’ve read what I write.”
“Yes I have. And they sound like poetry to me. Your words speak to me.”
“Is that a compliment, Mr Meryton?”
“Call me Nick, Chloe,” I said, and it felt dark and threatening. I couldn’t let her be so formal with me.
“Oh I suppose after you’ve seen me half naked, it’s silly to stay on a last name basis.”
I deserved a medal for not commenting on her half naked status and how much I’d like to make it all the way naked.
She shivered against me. “Oh dear.” She said. “It really isn’t hot in this elevator, is it? Oh my gosh it’s freezing.” The shivering intensified. “Well, Nick, you did your job too well. I can breathe and I’m not having a hot flash. Now I’m covered in cold sweat.”
He took the wet cloth off her neck and shook it out. “Dammit. Sorry. I’ve soaked your shirt. You’ve got nothing to wear.”
“No, you had to do that.”
I leaned forward and whip
ped off my jacket. “Here, take this.”
She didn’t argue with me, just slipped her arms into the jacket and wrapped it around herself. This time she looked at me fully. “Thank you, Nick. You’re not at all like I thought you’d be.”
Her eyes were swimmingly blue. As blue as the seas lapping the coast of the Greek isles. I could drown in them. I wanted to.
Chapter Five: Be Free
Nick Meryton wasn’t just handsome. Laying on the floor of a tiny little box, in his arms, Nick Meryton was overwhelming. His warm pine and salt smell surrounded me and I wrapped his jacket around me tighter. I could feel the beat of his heart as I leaned up against him, and the rumble of his laughter in his chest.
“What did you think I’d be like?”
“I didn’t think you’d take care of me.” I didn’t think his arms would make me feel so secure. I didn’t think his chest would be so broad and strong. I didn’t think I’d want to lick the point on his neck where his pulse beat so close to my head leaning on his shoulder.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever been alone with a woman having a panic attack. I’m just glad I didn’t make it worse.”
I fought the urge to run my hand up his shirt and feel his muscles, unfasten the buttons, and slide my fingers underneath to his skin. I wanted to press my bare chest to his. “You definitely didn’t make it worse,” I said. I could not look at his face right now, or rather, I couldn’t make myself look away from his body. I couldn’t resist. I covered his heart with my palm. His heartbeat was strong and steady. “How... how much longer until we get rescued from this death box, anyway?”
It turns out I couldn’t help but look at his face, and when he turned his face to me, his amber eyes were full of warmth and concern. I felt the warmth resonate within me.
“Are you panicking again? Do you need me to distract you again?”
I shook my head, watching his sensuous lips form words. “Panicking? No.” He brought up a hand to my neck. Did he feel my pulse beating fast? Because it was. Not from panic. “But I need you to distract me,” I said. And I wasn’t going to think too hard about it. I reached up and pulled him down for a kiss.
He did not resist at all. His lips felt so soft, at first a question, then just a breath fluttering against my lips, then he took me, swallowing me with his passion. His tongue opened the seam of my lips and delved as if I was already his to plunder. I gave in. I gave myself to him.
I should have known, I should have known. The moment his lips touched mine I craved them more. I did know. This whole time, I’d known I wanted him, and that was why I had hated him. I was too self aware to allow the deception anymore. This had always been what I wanted, and I had been trying to keep him away.
Oh stupid. So stupid.
But there I was in his lap, straddling him, and he was sliding his hands up my bare back, so big and strong and making me shiver not with cold but with lust. Oh. My skirt rode up high on my thighs because I needed him closer, he clutched at my ass bringing me in to feel his desire for me right where I needed it.
“Fuck,” I said. “Yes.” And stripped out of his jacket. He had his own shirt unbuttoned and off before I could come back to clutch at his jaw. The end of the day stubble rough against my cheek. His lips were swollen and soft. He had beautiful lips, and I wanted them to be mine.
I claimed his mouth with my tongue and he groaned, and I didn’t think I ever wanted this kiss to end. He broke away gasping, held me back when I went in for another, his eyes heavy lidded and a smile on his face that made me melt. “Chloe,” he panted, and I leaned in for another kiss, because I needed to, but he left a hot trail down my neck instead, biting at the swell of my breast and finding my nipple. I gasped and sank my fingers into his hair, thick and silky. I held on while drove me crazy with tongue, lips, and teeth. It was too much. I ground down against him and we groaned together.
The intercom in the elevator hissed to life, a static rent in the sultry air of the elevator. It had been just us. Now the real world interrupted. “Custodians!” the box squawked. “You all okay up there?”
We were trapped in an elevator at work and had just been about to have sex on the floor while waiting for rescue.
I jumped to my feet, desperately tugging my skirt back down, raking my shaking hands through my hair that had again come down. I left it.
“Dammit,” Nick said. He was at the intercom, his shirt already back on. He moved hastily. “We’re here. We’re fine. How much longer?” He shot his eyes over to me. I couldn’t pinpoint the message he was sending me. Guilt? Desire? Worry?
“Mmm. Shouldn’t be too long. Don’t worry, we’ll have you out soon as we can.”
“Great,” Nick said and turned to me, he watched me as he buttoned up his shirt and reached down to grab his suit jacket from where I flung it in my haste to be naked on his lap.
“Great,” I said, repeating him inanely. I pulled on my jacket, buttoning it up as high as it would go to hide my shirtless state, but it didn’t really help. I found a scarf in my work bag and tied it around my neck, tucking it into the lapels. I held my wet shirt helplessly in my hand. I couldn’t even stuff it in my bag. It would soak all my papers.
He watched me, his eyes narrowed. “You can’t go out like that. You’re not wearing a shirt. It’s too cold.”
“It’s an Indian Summer. Practically balmy. I’m just glad we’ll be out of this elevator.” I laughed nervously, but he wasn’t fooled. He grimaced. “I’ll be fine. You can’t even tell.”
“I’m not letting you take the subway without a shirt. I’ll drive you home.”
I glared at him. I didn’t like him telling me what to do. But it also struck me like a bolt of lightning. How did he know I took the subway to work every day? “My hero,” I said, again. And it came out sarcastic, but in my heart, it wasn’t.
After all the terror I had felt at getting stuck, it was anticlimactic when the elevator started moving again without delay, and the doors opened on the lobby. I picked up my bag and Nick put a hand low to my back to usher me out of the elevator without a bit of fuss.
He stopped me right at the reception desk as he leaned over and snapped his fingers to the guard. So he didn’t just snap at me. The arrogant ass. “The surveillance tape,” he said sharply, brooking no dissent.
My heart stopped. There was a surveillance tape?
“Give it to me. Miss Beckett has claustrophobia, and I won’t have her panic attack spread about.”
The guard assured them that no one would ever say a word, but Nick just smiled serenely and waited for him to hand it over. Which he did. Nick nodded and then escorted me out.
“So we’re back on last names are we?” I asked.
He didn’t respond, just looked at me with those amber eyes and I felt drunk.
He walked me towards a black Cadillac Escalade. His driver opened the door and Nick graciously settled me into the back seat. He climbed in beside me. It smelled rich and luxurious. I sank into the leather seats, feeling safe and protected. His driver took me home without much discussion at all.
It wasn’t until I got home and had closed the door behind me that I realized what exactly the refrain was that had been going through my brain through this whole thing. “My hero. My hero. My hero.” And there was nothing sarcastic about it.
Chapter Six: Unattached
“Unacceptable!” Nick said, firm and clear. He definitely did not shout. He made sure to avoid any and all eye contact with me before he stormed out of the staff meeting. The rest of the staff muttered and collected their things, before filtering out to do their boss’s bidding. But not me.
I calmly continued my note taking. He hadn’t spoken to me, anyway. He had not scolded me, or criticized my work, or instructed me in my failings the way he had every single other member of the staff. So, his anger was not directed at me. I finished the sentence in my notes and added a period. Very emphatically. Possibly more than once.
I slammed my pen down on the table and fin
ally had control of my emotions to look up in the empty conference room.
It was not empty.
Rachel sat there, at the end of the table, looking at me over the tops of her glasses. I hated when she did that. It meant that she was observing and making connections. I didn’t want her observing me right now.
Nor making connections.
“Fun meeting,” I said, with that grimace people make when they are pretending to smile but not really and everyone knows they aren’t.
Rachel wasn’t having any of it. “What did you do to him?”
“Me?” I was too shocked to even feign nonchalance. “What makes you think I did something to him. He didn’t yell at me.”
She chuckled and pushed her glasses back up on her nose with one finger. “I noticed that. So what did you do to him?”
Nothing. I had done absolutely nothing to him. We had barely spoken in the three weeks since I had a panic attack in his arms. And I had done everything in my power to forget what his lips felt like. I had done my damnedest to act normal when he ignored me. Again. My fake smile turned stiff. I could feel it settling hard and cold onto my face. “Nothing.” Clearly. “We are exactly the same as we were before.”
“Before?” She jumped on the word. “Before what? What happened?”
Dammit. Clever people were so annoying to be around. “Before he turned psychotic. I don’t know, Rachel. We hate each other. I thought that was clear as soon as he came back from lollygagging around the globe while you ran his magazine.”
She cocked her head at me. “Hmm. Is that what was clear?”
I stood and gathered my things. “That’s what’s clear to me, I need to get back to work,” I said. It would be best to end this discussion.
“Hmm,” she said and the danger in that hum set me on edge. “Make sure you’re on time to the Meryton Gala. Actually, I’ll need you to be there early.”
I picked up my notes. “I’m not going to the Meryton Gala.”
