by Lexi Blake
“Becca,” he replied, his voice low. “Concentrate on me, on our conversation. You’ve done incredibly well. You’ve been able to hold it off, but this has gone on far longer than you ever should have been expected to handle it. This elevator is tight. I feel it, too, but we can hold off the anxiety together.”
She doubted the man in front of her was anxious. He looked solid, like the kind of man who took whatever came his way and simply dealt with it. He wouldn’t have needed two freaking years to figure out what he wanted. He would have signed his divorce papers and moved on, not hiding in his work.
It struck her forcibly that she might never have met a man like Owen Shaw. Her childhood had been fairly sheltered. She’d constantly been surrounded by intellectuals, men and women who were far more concerned with their work than anything else.
The ground beneath her shifted and the elevator dropped what felt like ten feet, but she knew in her head it was mere inches. Her heart rate tripled, and she grabbed on to the closest thing she could—him.
His arms went around her, holding her up, and she heard it. He was so tall that her head naturally rested on his chest, and she could hear his heart beating in rapid time.
He was nervous.
The phone rang and Owen cursed, reaching out to grab it. The shaft was so small, he didn’t have to let her go to grasp the handle.
“What the bloody hell is happening, Colin?”
She could hear his voice over the line. “Sorry. So sorry. We had to lower the car the tiniest bit. I should have warned you. It’s not going to fall. Just needed to reposition to get to the problem. Not long now. Another half an hour or so and I’ll have you right out of there.”
“If you do that again, do you know what I’m going to do to you, Colin?” Owen asked.
There was a pause over the line and she could practically hear Colin’s gulp. “Write my father a tersely worded letter of complaint?”
“No, I’m going to pull your heart out through your throat and then I’ll shove it back up your arse.”
Colin’s breath hitched. “You sound very much like Liam Neeson in that movie.”
“Liam Neeson is Irish. I’m a Scot. I assure you what I’ll do to you will make you run into Liam Neeson’s arms and beg him to save you.” He reached back and hung up the phone with a resounding clang.
His arm went back around her. “It’s going to be all right. They’ll move faster now. So you’ve taken a sabbatical from men.”
She breathed him in, loving how he smelled. Were men supposed to smell this good?
She could feel herself relax as he held her. She’d known him for three hours. She shouldn’t let him hold her like this.
And why the fuck not? Because it wasn’t smart? Because he might think she wanted something she shouldn’t?
She was human. Why shouldn’t she want him? Because society told her that good girls didn’t make out with guys they’d recently met in an elevator?
Society sucked, and she wasn’t a good girl. When her husband had tried to put his name on her work, she’d told him to fuck off and write his own paper. When he’d cheated on her, she’d walked away.
She was single.
God, was he single?
She stepped back.
“What’s wrong?” Owen asked.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
His lips curled up in the sweetest grin, as though he knew exactly why she was asking that question. “No, love. I don’t have a girlfriend and I don’t have a wife.”
He was single. She was single.
The moment lengthened between them.
He stepped back. “I’m sorry. I’m coming on way too strong.”
He wasn’t. He’d been gentlemanly, friendly. Up until the last couple of moments, he hadn’t put a hand on her or leered. She could feel his attraction. It was there in the warm way he looked at her, in the set of his shoulders, relaxed earlier and tense now that he’d touched her. He was thinking about the same thing she was.
“I’m very nervous, Owen. My logical mind knows that it’s far more likely for me to die getting hit by lightning than in an elevator, even one that’s stuck.” Unfortunately, her logical mind was slowly losing control of her dumbass lizard brain.
“Will talking help?” Owen asked. “Because I’m willing to do that. Or whatever you need to take your mind off things.”
There was a wealth of promise in those words. Dirty and sweet at the same time. They’d shared her wine, passing it back and forth between them, her lips touching the same place his had been moments before. When she’d drank after him, she’d thought about kissing him.
It had been too long. Two years was way too long to go without sex.
They had a half an hour or so. At least that’s what Colin—who might be murdered soon by Owen Shaw—said. She even thought his name was sexy.
What exactly would it hurt if she did kiss him? If she touched him and let him touch her? Hell, what would it hurt if she fucked him? They were both single, both a little needy. They had some time to kill. They’d done everything else.
“I would like to kiss you.” If he didn’t want her to, he could say no and they could find something else to do. She wasn’t going to be embarrassed because some guy didn’t want her. Some stunningly gorgeous guy. Some funny, sexy guy. After all, she wouldn’t see him after this. She’d never seen him before. He’d told her he was moving in, but she went into work early and came home late. He was a bodyguard, so he likely worked odd hours and traveled a lot.
He was safe. She could open that door, enjoy herself, and then close it again. Owen Shaw could be her first good memory in a long time, the start of many because it was time to get serious about finding some joy and balance in her life.
But only if he wanted some joy, too.
He moved, placing his back against the elevator wall, the sweetest smile lighting up his face. “You have no idea how much I want you to kiss me. I’m right here, love. Do your worst.”
He was letting her make the first move. And probably the second. And the third. He was obviously a careful man. It would be easier if he took over, but he was right. This needed to be her choice, and she had to make the move.
She’d been the girl who’d told her parents at the age of five that kindergarten was boring and she wanted to move through the grades until she found something challenging. When they’d told her they wanted her to slow down and enjoy her childhood, she’d gone on strike until the teachers at her school begged her parents to let them move her up.
She was the girl who’d put it all on hold to take care of her mother, too.
Now she was the woman who took what she wanted, and she wanted Owen Shaw.
“It’s been a long time since I did this.” But her body was already heating up. Her body remembered. Her marriage might have sucked, but the sex had been fairly good. It had been the reason she’d married him. She’d gotten used to regular, good sex.
She’d get used to it again, just on her terms this time.
“Somehow, I think you’ll remember,” he said. “You play all you like. Stop when you want to.”
She’d been right about him. He was a careful man. “And if I don’t want to stop?”
“Then you should be happy I’m a man who believes in being prepared,” he said, his voice huskier since she’d gotten closer. “The minute you know what you want, you let me know and I’ll make it happen. I promise you won’t be sorry and you won’t be thinking about anything but how good I can make you feel.”
He was making her feel alive, and it had been so long since she’d felt like anything but a brain.
Though she knew her brain was a part of this. Her limbic system had been triggered, had been slowly churning for a while now.
She touched him, finally getting her hands on him, and she could feel her respiration rate tick up. The decision made, she gave up on feeling self-conscious. Maybe it wouldn’t be as good as she thought it could be. Maybe she was only nervous and killing
time in a situation that made her want to pull her own hair out. It didn’t matter. He was an indulgence and she’d earned it.
She went up on her toes and brushed her lips against his. Soft and warm and somehow still masculine. His scent washed over her, piney and clean. She could see him in the shower, soaping up his muscular body and oh, yes, it was very muscular. Her hands found his waist and ran up his torso. He was solid and fit.
He stayed still, seemingly willing to let her explore. He kissed her gently, as though he was afraid to scare her off. He obviously did not understand how much it would take to scare her off. Her body, so long denied, was pretty damn determined to have its way at this point.
His hands moved to her waist and he leaned over, deepening the kiss. This was what she’d needed for weeks.
She let her tongue play at his bottom lip and a thrill went through her as she felt his big body shudder, his hips moving against her as if he couldn’t help himself.
He was already hard. He seemed to realize what he was doing and while he didn’t stop kissing her, he tried to move his hips back.
Nope. She didn’t want that at all. She pressed herself against him, trying to let him know she loved the feel of that hard cock against her belly. She leaned into him and his mouth opened, tongue touching hers.
“Tell me I can take over,” he whispered between kisses. “Let me off the leash, love. It’s killing me not to touch you the way I want to.”
How did he want to touch her? Would he be gentle, or would he let his harder side out? She had no doubt this man had a hardass side, and she was curious about it. “Show me how you want to touch me.”
A long sigh went through him and his hands came up to her shoulders, drifting over the cardigan that suddenly seemed way too confining. She didn’t need it, right? His hands moved up to her neck while he kissed her and then he tangled his fingers in her hair and the kiss seemed to go wild.
His tongue invaded, stroking against hers. He held her still while he plundered her mouth. A wave of insane lust threatened to shake her to the core. Her body seemed to melt against his. All that mattered was his next kiss, the next touch. Her fingers found his shirt, pulling it free from his jeans.
“God, yes, Becca,” he groaned against her mouth. “Touch me.”
She ran her hands under his shirt, her palms finding his smooth, warm skin, and yes, all those muscles.
He reached down and dragged the shirt over his head, tossing it away before he kissed her again. “I know I shouldn’t do this, but I can’t help myself. This is going to come back to bite me in the arse, but I can’t make myself care. Do you feel what you do to me? Do you know how long it’s been since I felt like this?”
She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt this out of control before, and it was glorious. She let go of any thought beyond him. She’d kicked off her shoes long before, but now it was time to dump more of her clothes.
She wanted to be skin to skin with him. It couldn’t happen here, but she needed to at least feel his hands on her, and she couldn’t do that with the cardigan between them. At least the thin camisole she wore underneath would offer him access.
The idea of his hands on her breasts, cupping her and running his fingertips over her nipples, lit up her libido.
She slipped the cardigan off her shoulders and let it slide to the floor.
His hands immediately smoothed down her arms, as though he couldn’t wait to touch her. A low, sexy growl came from the back of his throat and he turned her around in one powerful move, shifting her so her back was against his chest, his mouth against her ear.
“Do you have any idea what I want to do to you, girl? I want to eat you up. I’m the big bad wolf and you’re going to let me in, aren’t ya?”
That accent pierced through her. Fuck yeah, she was going to let him in. “Yes, Owen.”
One big hand cupped her breast over her shirt and she leaned back against him. The sex had been good with her husband, but she’d been the aggressor. This was new. He was taking over, and it did something for her. She’d always thought she wanted to be in charge, but now she was reconsidering her position.
He’d told her she could stop him at any time, and she believed him. What if she could cede power and control for a single encounter, enjoy herself without having to think and strategize?
His left hand shifted from her breasts to her skirt, dragging it up. “I want my hands on you, my mouth on you. I want to make a meal of you, love. Do you understand what I mean? I want to bloody well lay you out right here and shove my tongue up your pussy. I bet you taste like honey.”
Every word shot through her. “I want to taste you, too.”
She wanted her mouth on his cock. She wanted to suck him until he was dry. She’d missed this, missed sex and intimacy. Why had she waited so damn long?
Maybe she’d waited for him.
She let the thought float away because there were more pressing matters. His hand was dangerously close to her underwear. Her breath held as he teased his way in.
“I think I should make sure you’re satisfied. I’m not sure how long I’ll last,” he said against her ear. He nipped her lobe, the tiny sting shooting straight to her pussy. “I bet you’re going to be hot around me. You’re already wet for me, aren’t you? Tell me you’re wet and wanting because I promise you, I’m hard as hell and desperate to get inside of you.”
Her hips seemed to move of their own accord. They shifted against his hand, trying to get him to touch her where she needed it the most. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten so wet so fast. I usually need way more foreplay.”
But now that she thought about it, the last four hours had been a long kind of foreplay. She’d been attracted to him the moment she’d seen him, and she rather thought he’d felt the same. They’d been thrown together. Wasn’t it natural that they should follow the path nature had set for them?
A single finger caressed her clitoris and she had to force herself to breathe.
She’d thought about lightning earlier. This was definitely a storm. Need rolled through her, quick and hard.
“You’re luscious,” he whispered, and she could feel his tongue running along the shell of her ear. “You’re ripe and ready. Relax and let me take you there. Come for me and then I’ll do the same for you.”
He pressed on her clitoris, his free hand cupping her breast and holding her hard against his body. She was trapped and it felt like heaven. There was nothing at all to do except take the pleasure he was offering her.
Her whole body bowed as he pressed down and rotated that single finger. Pleasure swamped her senses and she rode the wave, pumping her hips against his finger, taking every single second of decadent sensation he gave her.
Her whole body felt languorous as she came down from the high of her orgasm. She was soft and deliciously malleable when Owen turned her around.
“Tell me I can have you.” His handsome face was tight as he stared down at her.
Did he think now that she’d had her fun, she would turn him away? She wasn’t even thinking about it. She wanted him. She wouldn’t likely see much of him after this single encounter. They would go their separate ways and he would become a wild, crazy happy memory she could hold onto when the days got long. She wanted as much of him as she could have, and that definitely included his cock. Even in her dopamine-induced languor, she knew she would regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t have the memory of that hard cock pressing inside her.
“I want you, Owen.” She reached for him even though her legs felt like Jell-O. “You said you were prepared.”
“Fuck all, I am. You have no idea how prepared I am.” He leaned over and kissed her, his tongue tangling with hers, and then he was reaching into his back pocket. His hands were shaking as he opened his wallet and pulled out a condom. The leather wallet fell to the ground, but he didn’t seem to care. He was far too busy tearing open the fly of his jeans and releasing his cock.
She had the briefest glimpse of
a truly beautiful cock. Long and thick, it was uncut and jutted out of his jeans. He quickly sheathed it and then her back was up against the elevator wall. He drugged her with kisses, tugging her skirt back up.
“I should get out of my panties,” she managed to whisper.
“No time,” he said as he pressed her against the wall and his free hand simply shoved the sucker aside.
His cock pushed against her pussy and she looked up into his eyes. They were ocean blue and they pulled her in like nothing else could. Not even the sensation of him fucking up into her body had the same effect as those eyes staring down at her. There was some unnamed emotion in his eyes that made her reach up and wrap her arms around him, not for balance or to let him get a better angle. She hugged him to show him her affection, to let him know she was here with him.
Then the desolation she’d seen there was gone, and he warmed up again.
“God, you’re beautiful, Becca,” he said before his mouth lowered to hers and he pressed up inside her. “I knew you’d feel like heaven.”
She was crushed between him and the wall, and she clutched him for all she was worth. She wrapped her legs around his lean hips as his hands found the cheeks of her ass and he physically moved her, sliding her up and down on his cock. Her nails dug into his skin, but he didn’t seem to mind. He nipped at her neck, gentle bites that sent her higher and higher.
She hadn’t thought she could possibly come again. She’d always been a one and done woman, but she felt the delicious pressure build once more. He was big inside her, perfectly stoking the fire. His pelvis rubbed her exactly the right way, and it didn’t take long before she went careening over the edge again, calling out his name.
Owen. Owen. Owen.
God, she would remember that name for the rest of her damn life.
He shoved inside her one last time, his body quaking as he came, and then he was simply holding her.
“I did not expect that.” The words were shaky and deep, rumbling from his mouth across her skin.
