by Jordyn White
Oh yeah. And I’m strangely not as terrified of being in this elevator as I am of what happens if this door opens to a room full of professional colleagues.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
We are a frantic rush of setting ourselves aright and getting properly dressed as quickly as we had become improperly undressed. As I’m hastily smoothing out my hair, he turns away so he can tuck that massive specimen of manhood into a less revealing position.
“Well...” I spit out, disoriented and at a loss for words. Which happens almost never, let me tell you.
But my brain is trying to catch up with what just happened.
Now that I’m out of the heat of the moment—kind of—I can hear that tiny voice in my head saying that it’s definitely better that Dallas Huntington and I didn’t take things any further. We’re colleagues. On opposite sides of the Great Divide. We’d have to live with the consequences later and those consequences could’ve been huge.
But, oh how I wish we’d been stuck in this elevator just a little longer.
The car comes to a smooth stop and we exchange knowing glances just before the doors open. That was close.
“Heh,” I say stupidly, trying to snap my brain into action. “Disaster averted, huh?”
Then the doors ding open to reveal a landing with a white marble floor, and a few hundred fellow cocktail party attendees in the massive room beyond.
I hurry off the elevator without even looking back.
Chapter 2
Dallas
Shit, she really wasn’t in her right mind. Not that I was either.
What in the hell was I thinking?
I step off the elevator less surefooted than I would like. There are a couple people mingling on the landing, holding their glasses of champagne and little plates of hors d’oeuvres.
Rita is already several paces ahead of me, seemingly determined to disappear into the crowd. All I see is her long, dark auburn hair and her lithe body, which is in total command of that snug cocktail dress.
What was I thinking?
I was thinking the woman who’s been the sexy temptation I knew I should never indulge in was wrapping herself around me like a goddess and I did not want it to stop, that’s what I was thinking.
That was the wildest, hottest kiss I’ve ever experienced.
Which is a little pathetic given how close Christie and I were to getting married. Not that there wasn’t any attraction between us, but it was nothing like that. It was more restrained with Christie, I guess, though I didn’t realize it until just now.
Because that kiss with Rita was off the rails.
I don’t know why I should be surprised. Everything that woman does is bold and brash. She’s not afraid of anything, or anyone. Least of all, me.
She said she doesn’t let people take advantage of her, and I believe her. But disaster averted? I can’t help but wonder if she would’ve been so willing had she not been completely freaked out only minutes before.
Rita’s making short work of cutting through the crowd. The party’s in a large room that’s lined on two sides with floor-to-ceiling windows and a stunning view of Boise at sunset.
She’s walking with the confident gait she always has, but when she turns and heads for the far side of the room and I get a glimpse of her profile, I can see how flustered she is under her don’t-fuck-with-me persona.
A woman like that will eat you for breakfast.
But she surprised me.
Not her passion. That didn’t surprise me. I mean, look at her. That woman oozes sorry-boys-this-isn’t-for-you sex appeal. But experiencing it? Fuck. So much better than my periodic imaginings.
What did surprise me was her softness. She was like a little kitten, nestled in my arms. That hard exterior she carries around with her like a shield and a sword, it was gone. Just, gone. And I got a glimpse of the woman underneath it all.
The kind of woman a man maybe could get close to.
And that’s the thing that surprises me more than almost anything. For months now, I’ve been hanging onto the hope that Christie will come around and be the woman I was in love with for so long. Maybe then she’d be ready to try again.
I’ve been nursing this hope even though I’ve known for some time there’s no going back with her. That accident took her on a different path, and the truth is, I’m not on it.
But even though I knew all this, in those moments when I was honest with myself, I still couldn’t picture my future with anyone else in it.
Until now.
Chapter 3
Rita
Dallas is over there chatting up the boss and being charming as hell. He’s handsome as the devil and he knows it. Admired by his peers. Respected and respectable. Everything I’m not.
But I’m going to have to do a little sucking up of my own if I have any chance of landing the Boise job. It’s not exactly my dream job, but it’s a way out of Swan Pointe. A way to save face. Because no way am I admitting to anyone that I just don’t get the satisfaction out of my column that I used to.
God, I’m such a fucking softy now. Rayce Rivers and Emma Swanson took all the fun out of giving the Johnson to people like that.
And maybe showed me that I’m not always right about people.
To top it off, now I can’t stop thinking about the one thing I really want to do. The thing I’ve wanted to do all along but was always too chicken to try.
So Boise could be a fresh start. An opportunity to reinvent myself.
Plus, I’d get to see those mountains every day. The rolling foothills are all lit up with the oranges and reds of the setting sun. This view is novel worthy, that’s for sure.
But even the view isn’t enough to distract me from that unexpected elevator ride with Dallas Huntington.
I take a sip of my champagne and watch him over the rim of my glass. Our eyes meet briefly, and if I’m not mistaken, Mr. Stuffed Shirt over there is giving me one seriously hot look. Not that he exactly looks like a stuffed shirt to me anymore. He looks like one stunning piece of man meat I would not mind unwrapping.
Right now.
In the nearest dark room.
I’m still pretty worked up, wishing we’d been stuck in that elevator for just ten more minutes. Why couldn’t we have had just ten more minutes?
Now I have to try to schmooze the CEO in hopes he’ll transfer me to their new operation in Boise, in spite of the fact that it’s going to be a nice, respectable paper and I’ve been writing gossip trash for their trashy, cash-cow rag.
But my writing is solid, and I’m a damn hard worker who never misses a deadline, and all I need is for him to give me a chance.
I can hardly think straight about any of it thanks to hot lips over there.
I spend the next twenty minutes trying, and failing, to get my lady parts to just forget about Dallas Huntington while I mingle with fellow company folks from various locations: Swan Pointe, Portland, Seattle, Boise, Salt Lake. Writers and accountants and editors and marketing gurus are all here for the same thing: to celebrate the company’s twenty-fifth anniversary.
Mr. Michaelson’s company is killing it, too. His little conglomerate makes a shit ton of money so he probably had no trouble affording all the cash he dropped on this little shindig. It’s not too bad either. Great food and even free wine.
Free. Wine.
I feel bad for the sorry saps who had to stay behind at the local offices to keep things running. It’s gotta suck not to make the cut.
As I watch Dallas and Mr. Michaelson finally part ways, I’m hoping the fact that I did make the cut will play in my favor.
Dallas is coming in my direction, eyes on me, but I’m not letting him get me off task. The fact that I want to find a dark corner somewhere and climb him like a tree will just have to wait.
As we draw nearer to each other, Dallas gives me a truly panting-melting smile.
Stand down, lady parts.
“Rita—”
“I’ll deal wi
th you later.” I brush my hair back from my shoulders and pass him up, making a direct line for the boss.
I have to stay focused. Having a chance to schmooze the boss is a solid follow-up to my interview earlier and is literally the only reason I stepped into that elevator to brave the seventeen-story Ascent of Death. The free wine and heart-pounding make out session was just a bonus.
I glance over my shoulder to find Dallas watching me.
A big, big bonus.
I’m putting little prime rib crudités on my plate, a freshly-filled glass of white wine on the table in front of me, and obsessing about what happened in the elevator. Now that my chat with Mr. Michaelson is over—it seemed to go all right, fingers crossed—there’s nothing to distract me from that coitus almostus with Dallas.
I still can’t believe we did what we did. In the course of mere minutes, my entire perception of Dallas Huntington changed. He went from a good-looking professional rival to a hotter-than-fuck man who I actually got real with. Because he felt safe.
I don’t let people see my vulnerabilities. Because people will screw you every time. But when Dallas had me in his arms, there was no fear of that.
Of course, I can’t be sure, but if it had been anyone else in the elevator with me, I think I would’ve extracted myself from him. I don’t usually like that kind of containment. With anyone else, I think I would’ve finished my little panic attack in a far corner, claws out.
But I didn’t with him.
Why?
“It’s later,” Dallas says from behind me, his low voice resonating in my ear. The deep, rich tone both soothes something deep inside me and makes my thighs clench.
I look at him over my shoulder as he comes around, those gray eyes alight with a mischievous twinkle.
“Huh?” Because apparently I can’t think of anything more clever to say than that. Geez, it’s not like I work with words for a living or something.
The corner of his lips turns up. “You said you’d deal with me later. It’s later.”
“Right. Yes.” I return to my plate and place a couple grape tomatoes on it with a pounding heart. “That wasn’t exactly fair.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Sorry? I look up at him.
He’s close. Not inappropriately close, sadly. Just close enough to make me remember exactly what it felt like when he gave me those knee-buckling kisses, when he squeezed my ass, thrust against me with his cock, yanked my panties down my thighs.
If I could, I’d be all over him this second.
But he’s penitent and apologizing and I have no idea what for.
“Should I not have done that?” he continues.
Oh that.
“Look, it’s not like you took advantage of me when I was drunk or something. I knew what I was doing.”
“Are you sure? Because you seem a little out of sorts.”
“That’s not it,” I say, agitated and irritated. I pick up my wine and take a hasty sip.
“Then what?”
I take a hurried glance around to make sure no one’s paying attention to us, then drop my voice. “It’s just not nice to leave a girl hanging like that.”
His eyebrows raise and I’m reminded of the surprised look he gave when I grabbed that massive cock of his. I’m tempted to glance down. I wonder if it’s semi-hard, craving a satisfying ending just like I am.
And no, it’s not like me to act like this with a guy, least of all this guy, but here’s what I’m deciding. Dallas Huntington is like crack. All I can think about is how to get my fix, truly spiraling out of control.
“Not nice? The elevator started up.”
“I realize that.” Holding my plate and wine, I advance down the line, keeping my eyes on the platters of food in front of me. He follows smoothly. “But still. A gentleman would finish what he started.”
He laughs lowly at my boldness, a deep, throaty laugh. But he’s giving me that same, hot look he’s been tossing in my direction all night. I have years of experience closing a deal and I smell victory. He hasn’t even agreed yet, but my body is humming and throbbing in anticipation.
“You’re a trip, Rita. Not subtle at all, are you?”
“Hey, no point beating around the bush.” Because I’m a crack whore for Dallas Huntington.
I take a step closer. “You can’t tell me I’m the only one who wants to finish things up.”
Our eyes lock and I let him in. Like, deep in and I don’t do that. But here he is.
“And if we do finish things up?” he says lowly. “What then?”
This I wasn’t expecting. “What then?”
He nods slowly, still holding my eyes. This time he’s the one to take a step closer. We’re almost touching. We’re separated by a mere half inch of electrified space.
I’m starting to get serious about finding a dark room. My hotel is just a couple miles from here but I don’t think I could make it.
“Yes, Rita,” he says in that slow, sexy, Rita whisperer voice of his.
That’s when I realize something else.
I’m about to close a deal where I am not the one with the upper hand. Because Dallas is doing something to me. This isn’t just physical. It’s roaring, raging, filthy, hot-blooded desire, yes.
But underneath all that, there’s something more.
“That’s what I said,” he continues in that deadly soft voice. “What happens next?”
Uhhh.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
“Nothing.” I’m slowly shaking my head, but still held fast by those gray eyes. “We just finish it. Get it out of our system.”
His eyes drop to my lips and an amused smile emerges on his face.
Danger, danger. Abort.
The tiny part of me that’s still sane warns I’m at serious risk of getting sucked right into this guy. But there’s no stopping this freight train.
“So we do this, and that’s it?”
I nod my head, in answer to his question. I don’t even have the strength to speak, but I need to stick to my guns about this being a one-time deal. I’ll just get in, and get out. I can do that.
But that sexy smile of his doesn’t go anywhere. Instead he leans in, his breath hot on my ear as he says, “I’ll give you what you want. But I guarantee, you’re going to want more.”
Chapter 4
Rita
Just before we reach the elevator, the doors open and an older couple starts to go in. We’re still seventeen stories high. That thing could totally get stuck again, or worse.
I take a hard left, heading for the stairs. Going down is easier than going up. I can handle it.
“Where are you going?” Dallas asks.
“Stairs.”
He chuckles and slips his arm around my waist, pulling me snug against his body as he gently redirects me toward the elevator. “It’s perfectly safe.”
“How can you say that after what happened?”
“We didn’t get hurt, did we?”
Well, that’s true. Just the opposite, in fact. We step inside and I put one arm around his waist, hanging on.
The doors slowly slide closed and I’m hyper aware of them, how they’re closing us off from all that space beyond and leaving us in this little box with these strangers who are just too damned close and that button panel with all the buttons because we’re so damned high and—
His voice sounds in my ear. “You’re okay.”
I close my eyes and turn into him, wrapping my arms around him and tucking my nose into the crook of his neck. He pulls me into a steady embrace and now it’s just me and him. I’m only vaguely aware of the fact that there are witnesses to my behavior. But they’re strangers anyway so why the fuck should I care if they think I’m too scared of an elevator to ride one properly?
All I know is Dallas is going to carry me safely down and I’m going to let him.
“Alright?” he whispers in my ear.
I nod.
“We should ride elevator
s together more often.”
I tighten my hold on him. “Is it almost over?”
“You mean are you one step closer to finishing what we started?” His voice still has that Rita Whisperer thing going on... that thing that tells me it’s okay and I’m safe.
But it also has this deep throaty quality that made me remember what I nearly forgot. We’re headed to his hotel room where I get to hold this strong body as much as I want. With clothes off.
My clit pulses.
“If there weren’t people in this elevator with us,” he growls deeply.
I make a humming sound, almost a purr, and mold my body to his in a different way. Then the elevator comes to a stop and I turn just as the doors ding open.
Well, that was fast.
The old couple leaves and Dallas brings me out into the building’s main lobby, our arms around one another and our sides linked together.
“How far is your hotel again?” I ask. He chuckles, but we both pick up the pace. He’s staying just a few short blocks from here, but it suddenly feels farther.
We go through the streets of Boise, lit up with street lights and flowing with people out enjoying a night on the town, stuck to each other’s sides and verbally flirting to keep the fire stoked.
By the time we reach his hotel and are stepping into yet another elevator—he’s on the third floor—we’re practically mauling each other. We’re the only ones in here so his hands are on my ass and my breasts and I’m stroking his massive erection all while indulging in shameless, hungry kisses.
I’m barely aware of going down the hall. Or of the door opening and closing. All I know is we’re alone at last and all constraints are gone.
He peels my dress off in one fluid motion. I undo his belt, which he rips out and throws to the floor. His shirt is somehow already untucked. I don’t even know where his suit coat went.
We tackle his shirt as one and when his chest is bared to me at last, I place both hands on his firm skin, followed by my mouth. I move to his taut nipple and suck, swiping the hard peak with my tongue.