“Maggie!” I’m only faintly aware of two strong hands gripping my shoulders. “You’re hyperventilating. You need to slow your breathing down.”
“Like it’s that easy!” I hiss, my chest ready to cave in from the pressure. I’ve never had an attack like this before.
“Tell me what to do.”
I’m shaking my head, the fire alarm a torturous repetitive echo pounding inside my head. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. I can’t . . .” There are techniques—all kinds of techniques—but I’m too panicked to remember any of them right now. “We’re going to die in—”
Grabbing either side of my head, he yanks my face into his, covering my mouth with his until I’m punching his chest repeatedly to break free.
“What the hell are you doing?” I scream.
“Limiting your air intake. And shutting you up.” Hot puffs of his breath skate over my face a moment before he seals my lips against his once again, forcing me to breathe in through my nose to get air, and curbing the amount that I can exhale. He’s right, I realize, as the pressure in my lungs eases and my heart rate slows and I’m calm enough to become conscious of the fact that I’m basically kissing Jace Everett.
At that precise moment, when the air around us hangs hot and wet and tension streams through my body like a live electric current, his tongue slides against mine.
And then whatever good Samaritan act on Jace’s part this was quickly morphs into lips smashing and tongues tangling and teeth nipping and aggressive hands yanking at hair. I’m hungrily stealing Jace’s air now, tasting the residual spearmint gum flavor, absorbing his body heat and his confidence. Strong hands move feverishly over my legs, under my dress, until he has a good grip around the backs of my thighs. He pulls me onto his lap to straddle him, crushing our chests against each other until my knees are jammed against the cold metal wall, hard enough to bruise, and I can feel his speeding heart beat against mine and his erection digging into me.
And I find myself wanting it.
He’s arrogant and condescending, his morals likely reprehensible, and yet I press myself further against him. He groans as my fist curls around his tie, roping it tight until I can’t be sure that I’m not choking him. And I don’t care, because there’s something about Jace that makes me forget all manners and consideration. There’s something that makes me want to take control.
He doesn’t seem willing to relinquish it, though, his hands fumbling in the dark to find my plunging neckline and the loosely draped material of this wrap-style dress. With a quick tug against it and my lace bra, cold air hits my bare chest a second before his tongue finds a nipple.
I can hear him working his belt buckle and zipper in haste, as if he’s afraid to run out of time. Warm hands find my inner thighs and I hiss in pain as he pinches my skin in his attempt to grab hold of my pantyhose. Before the sting has faded, I feel the pull, hear the tear, sense his fingers pushing past my panties and sliding into me without shame.
“I knew it,” his whispers against my neck, his hand pushing my hips from behind and into him, until the end of his cock is sliding against me.
Lights flicker and then flood into the elevator like a cold bath to whatever insanity just took over my senses, illuminating this mess I’ve gotten myself into. Eyes the color of cool water stare back at me, a question in them. Forceful hands pulling my body closer, slowly inching him into me, tell me that Jace is too far gone to stop now.
And then the elevator jolts, beginning its rapid descent.
Snapping me out of his spell.
I scramble off Jace’s lap, and rush to fix my bra and smooth my dress as best I can. I have my coat on and pulled tight just as the doors open on the lobby level, a wall of firefighters in full gear standing at the lobby entrance. I push through them, my face burning.
Plenty of other bewildered and relieved people wander around. People trickle out of the stairwell, red-faced and rubbing their thighs from the long descent.
“Ma’am! Are you the one suffering from claustrophobia?” a heavyset paramedic calls out. After lying to her—thankfully there’s too much chaos in the lobby to take up more than a few seconds of anyone’s attention—I edge my way out of the circus.
From the snippets of conversation that I hear, apparently there was a serious malfunction with the elevator system, leaving all six elevators and their passengers stranded at various spots in the building. When the backup system didn’t kick in, a security guard triggered the fire alarm to get emergency response here, fearing the worst.
I’m sure the news crews are on their way. I don’t want to be anywhere near them.
I’m twenty feet from the doors when a firm hand grabs my arm. I shake it off, turning to glare at Jace.
There isn’t even an ounce of apology in his eyes. My eyes veer to his mouth without warning. I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe I just let that happen.
He steps in front of me, blocking my path a second before I move to leave. “I still need you to sign the last bit of paperwork.” A bitter laugh escapes me and he grins. “I’m serious. Let’s grab dinner and you can sign everything there. I know a great place nearby. Ground-floor dining. No elevators. I just need to get your paperwork, so let me see how long they think it’s going to be before the elevators are back up and running. We could always just have a few drinks while we wait. Just stay here for a few minutes. Please.”
I watch him head toward the security guys standing near the elevators.
And then I duck out with the crowd, feeling every bit the heathen.
CHAPTER 15
Maggie
“And that is why I hate elevators,” I mutter, balancing the glass of merlot on my stomach, the heat from the fire next to me chasing the cold winter air away.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything like that happen before. Have I?” Grady’s face twists in thought as he peels a chestnut he’s been roasting over the flame for the past half hour. “Nope. Can’t say I have.”
“And yet it happened to a severe claustrophobic.” I didn’t mention what actually happened in the elevator. Namely, Jace. I’m still shaken up by it, having never been one to lose control over a guy—a guy I don’t even particularly like, though I’ll admit I do feel a “thing” between us. Some connection that now brings with it deep shame.