Lust Page 2

  He didn’t say a word. In fact, I couldn’t hear a sound coming from his side of the elevator. I still couldn’t make out a shape in the dark and part of me wondered if maybe I’d imagined the stranger in the elevator with me. Maybe I’d made up his presence to help calm my nerves and keep me from having a panic attack, which, clearly, I was failing at.

  “Hello?” I said into the quiet space around me. I lifted my hand; I wasn’t sure what I planned to do, but that didn’t stop my fingers from exploring the darkness.

  My strangled gasp interrupted the silence when his hand captured mine firmly. I felt a moment of relief that I wasn’t crazy nor alone, but the feeling only lasted a brief second. He tugged on my hand, and I landed against his chest, knocking the breath from me.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded confusedly.

  “Trying to distract you, chaotic, messy Meela Davis.”

  His face was suddenly very close to mine, and the proximity of my body to his was clouding my better judgment, confusing me in ways I’d never been confused before and making it hard to fucking breathe.

  This stranger—only he wasn’t exactly a stranger anymore now that he had introduced himself—had completely turned the world on its axis.

  Reed Pierce.

  I obviously didn’t know anything beyond his looks and the fact he thought very highly of himself. As much I knew you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, it was hard to remember that rule of etiquette now.

  I also knew that our time spent in this elevator was limited. Whether we died right here or managed to get off this damn death trap alive, I would never see him again, and that was a fact. I was a lawyer, and I lived off facts.

  I felt him shift again, bringing me out of my thought bubble. He leaned down, his lips a breath away from the curve of my ear, and whispered, “Are you rambling inside that beautiful head of yours again, Meela Davis?”

  I barely managed to control the shiver his words and closeness invoked. I didn’t like that he knew I rambled. It was too personal, too intimate, but it was also my own fault for talking out loud when I didn’t pay enough attention to know he’d been in the elevator with me to begin with.

  He moved, distracting me, and I froze while his weight shifted once more. The elevator stirred, making an awful creaking sound. I squeezed my eyes shut, and the darkness intensified my fear.

  “Please stop moving,” I pleaded on a whisper.

  I was afraid if we continued to talk too loudly, the thread that my mind had convinced me the elevator was probably hanging from was going to snap.

  “Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he drawled, and I could almost feel the smile in his words.

  He stilled. I could barely feel him breathing even though he was still pressed firmly against me. I felt like it should have been awkward to have a stranger so close, but it was the exact opposite. It soothed and calmed my nerves. It evened my breathing and unclenched my muscles, making me sway into him.

  He made a noise deep inside his chest that almost sounded like a growl, but he covered up the sound by clearing his throat, so I couldn’t be sure.

  “I think I’m okay now.” I lied, but I didn’t think I could stand to be any closer to him.

  I moved to take a step back, but he was talking again, and his words stopped me.

  “I’ve read up on panic attacks.”

  My face scrunched. “You have?”

  “Well, sort of … it was for a paper.”

  “A paper? You mean like a paper you wrote in college?”

  “More like high school.”

  “High school! You want to comfort me with information you probably learned over ten years ago? How do you even know if you remember correctly? You could—” My statement came to an abrupt halt as he moved against me.

  “Are you going to listen to me, or should I let you ramble some more?”

  I swallowed hard and tried not to focus on the heat of his palm on my lower back or the way it was warming every inch of skin on my body.

  I couldn’t find my voice to properly answer him, so I merely nodded. I wasn’t sure whether he could see or feel the gesture, but he continued anyway.

  “When someone has a panic attack, their thoughts become jumbled and they feel out of control. Being close, almost completely as one, to someone helps. Pressure points,” he said randomly.

  “What?”

  Before I could assess the situation, he was moving us, his body pressed against mine as he maneuvered us to the flat surface of the elevator wall. Pressing into me, his body applied pressure to every inch of mine as he held me close, closer than anyone had ever held me before.

  “How does that feel?” he asked after giving me a full minute to wrap my thoughts around our current position.

  “I …” I didn’t know how to respond to his question or the way he was holding me. It took me another minute to find something to say. “How … how does this help?” I asked around deep breaths

  “Being held tightly by another person calms the nervous system, which slows the heart rate. The more of my body covering yours, the better. Can you feel me breathing?” I nodded. “Is it working?”

  That seemed to be a loaded question.

  Was it working?

  Possibly, but it was hard to tell when I couldn’t focus on anything but the feel of his body against mine. He might have succeeded in distracting me from worrying about being stuck in an elevator, but what was going to distract me from him?

  “Look at me, Meela.” Although he didn’t speak above a whisper, his words were demanding.

  “But I can’t see you.” I forced the words past my lips.

  I gasped when I felt his breath against my lips as he dropped his face to only inches from mine. With a quick dart of my tongue, I licked my lips.

  They tasted like mint and the complete and total stranger in front of me. My face flamed, and I was thankful for the darkness.

  “Is this better?” The velvety caress of his words against my lips made my stomach flip.

  My answer was lost in my scream as the ground shook harder than it had before, and the elevator jolted. If I hadn’t been entirely convinced before, I was now. We were going to die. My fingernails dug into the muscles of his upper arms as I waited for the elevator to completely give way. At least I wouldn’t be alone.

  “We’re going to die.” My voice trembled, but I didn’t care.

  “Stop it,” he said, his voice as smooth as steel. “Talk to me, Meela. What are you doing here? You said you had a case, right?”

  His voice was demanding my attention, forcing me to forget everything—the tremors, my first real case, even my own name.

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the case about?”

  I shook my head in frustration. “I don’t know,” I stammered. “I can’t think. I have to get out of here. I need to call my mom, my sister. I need to tell them I love them.”

  “And you will as soon as you get out of here. Now focus. Your case?”

  “Please …” I pleaded, but I didn’t know what I was begging for. I dropped my head forward, and it rested against his chest. I could hear the beat of his heart, and slowly, I lost myself in the steady rhythm.

  “Talk to me, Meela.” His fingers moved under my chin, lifting it, and I wished I could see his face. “Tell me about your case.”

  How the hell was I supposed to have a conversation about something as mundane as a court case? As if we were two people making conversation over lunch?

  Just do it, Meela, I scolded myself.

  “It’s an open-and-shut case,” I said in an attempt to appease him.

  The case was a no-brainer. An open-and-shut, guaranteed to win case. A case that every young lawyer would want because who wouldn’t want to win their first case, right?

  Me. I wanted something challenging.

  “Those are the best kind,” he said, keeping my mind on track.

  For now, it was working, so he played along. “You’re awfully confident,
Meela Davis.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  False confidence slipped in with my words. Plus, he was being so cocky, and I wanted him to know his place.

  Me lawyer. Him messenger boy. There was no contest here.

  “Not that it matters either way,” I said, continuing with a smirk. “I have a pretty strong case.”

  “Really?” he asked doubtfully. “What makes you think so?”

  Pulling back, I lifted my head to look up at him. “And why would I share that information with you?”

  “Because you’re fresh and young. Because the thought of winning still excites you. I know how lawyers work.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, and I know you’re dying to share your dirty little secret with me.”

  “That wouldn’t make me a very trustworthy lawyer, now would it?”

  “On the contrary … I think it would make you a very trustworthy lawyer,” he whispered.

  I hated that I couldn’t see his face. “And how would you know? You have to be one to know anything about them.”

  He took so long to respond I almost didn’t think he would. “I guess that’s true. So then there’s no harm in telling me about your case.”

  Two

  Reed

  Rule number one of lawyer club: you don’t discuss lawyer club.

  And you especially don’t talk so openly about your cases.

  Ever.

  I knew this, but I figured an earthquake definitely trumped the golden rule this time.

  I squinted in the dark, wishing like hell I could see the soft curves of her face and the icy bite of those blue eyes I remembered from earlier. I wanted to lose my fingers in the soft stands of her blond hair and taste the pout of her lips that smelled like honey and looked like fucking trouble.

  Stubborn, delicious trouble and it just so happened to be my specialty when it came in the form of the opposite sex.

  The second I’d laid eyes on the golden-haired firecracker, and that smart-ass mouth of hers opened, giving away her zero-fucks attitude, I was fascinated. I had every intention of getting on the elevator, but when David had called me from across the lobby, my time had run out.

  I had no choice but to let her go. I was determined that this wouldn’t be the last time I saw her. Annoyed and frustrated, I stepped away from the doors. I threw a backward glance at David, and it only took a split second for me to know nothing David was going to tell me was worth not getting on that elevator.

  I slipped in before the doors fully closed, leaving a stumped David standing there alone. With an apologetic shrug of my shoulders and wicked grin, the doors closed.

  Meela had been on the phone, completely unaware of my presence. I’d been eavesdropping on her conversation with her mom when the first tremors started. And when she started talking to herself, it was so damn adorable.

  Then she claimed not to notice me, and I thought she was just playing hard to get. It gave some women a sense of power when they did. Except she wasn’t playing, and the sassier she got, the more I fought the urge to put that mouth of hers to work in other ways.

  She didn’t know it, but she had given me a massive, fucking … challenge, I thought with a smirk, and I was looking forward to accepting.

  It helped that she didn’t know I was a lawyer too. Our breed tended to be very competitive and rarely trusted other lawyers, even if they were our friends. I knew because of the way I was dressed she had no reason to think I was one of her kind. I knew the minute I told her she was going to put up an even bigger guard, and I didn’t want that. So I’d let her think what she wanted … for now.

  But then she said, “My client’s husband is trying to get out of paying alimony, but he cheated on my client.”

  The minute the words left Meela’s lips, I froze.

  She must have felt the shift in my demeanor because she stopped talking and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  The whole reason I had asked her to discuss her case was to keep her mind away from plummeting to our deaths, but now I wish I’d kept my fucking mouth shut.

  There had been other ways, ways that would be far less messy and a hell of a lot more fun in the process.

  “Nothing,” I said, clearing my throat.

  “Don’t say it’s nothing. Your muscles tightened.”

  Her words made me want to flex other muscles just to see how close she was paying attention.

  “How would you know if my muscles tightened? Are you feeling me up, Meela Davis?”

  She breathed. “Of course, I wasn’t feeling you up. It’s just—”

  “Because if it’s helping to distract you, you can feel me up all you want.” A smile pulled at my lips.

  Her breathing paused, and I could almost hear the deliberation in her head.

  “Are you flirting with me?” she asked.

  She was confused; as if the idea of a man flirting with her was ludicrous. She was a knockout, and I was positive men flirted with her every chance they got.

  “Maybe,” I responded.

  She shifted against me, the curves of her body sliding against mine, and I bit back a groan of pleasure.

  “Have you ever made out in an elevator, Meela?”

  Her breath caught sharply. “Excuse me?”

  I smirked. “You heard me. Have you ever made out in an elevator?”

  Her reactions inspired me to want to shock the hell out of her. It was clear she wasn’t used to someone talking to or even touching her like this, and it made me wonder what the hell kind of men she’d been dating. The way she felt against me, the drilling of heart against my chest, it was doing it for me.

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  Her fiery response told me that was a big fat no, and even though I’d asked for the shock factor, her answer pleased me entirely too much.

  I shrugged. “Just trying to distract you.”

  “Asking me how I like my coffee in the morning would have the same effect,” she snapped.

  I grinned. Case in point. “Now look who’s flirting.”

  She grew quiet as the realization of how her words sounded came to her. “I’m not … I didn’t …”

  I heard the click of her teeth as she snapped her mouth shut, and I swore I could feel the heat of her blush through my clothes.

  She was uncomfortable with the turn of our conversation, and even though I couldn’t really see her, I could feel her pulling away from me. I liked her close, and I wanted her to stay there.

  Quickly, I switched subjects.

  “Your case … keep telling me about it.”

  Karma would kick my ass when we got out of this elevator.

  It was wrong.

  So fucking wrong, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to continue to feel the soft whispers of her words when she spoke because it felt too damn good. Almost as good as her entire body pressed against mine.

  “They were married for almost twenty years, and they have three teenage kids,” she said, and as I listened to her, I couldn’t help but critique her. She couldn’t be much younger than I was, maybe three years, but I was sure I had more experience than she did.

  “He worked, and she stayed at home taking care of their children, which, let’s be honest here, that’s a job in and of itself.”

  Her tension was loosening the more she spoke. The stiffness in her spine was lessening, and she was slowly folding into me. Her grip on my arms, with her nails digging into my skin, was also loosening, which saddened me. The cut of her nails was so fucking hot.

  I could have told her we were only two stories up and would more than likely be fine, but I was enjoying the feel of her in my arms entirely too much.

  I was a selfish bastard, and I had no excuses.

  “Did you hear me?” she asked, pulling my attention away from her curves pressed against me and back to her words.

  “Yes. I agree. Raising three children is a job for sure.”

  I shivered at the idea of
three kids. That wasn’t the life for me but to each his own.

  “What else?” I said while wondering just how hot hell was.

  “Well, because she was a stay-at-home mother, she’s having a hard time finding employment with no work background. Alimony, along with the child support her husband has agreed to, would go a long way toward helping her live and take care of the children.”

  Sure, the circumstances sucked, but honestly, none of that mattered when you had a job to do, and my job was to win the case. Not worry about the opponent and how they were supposed to live. It was a cruel world, but you learned quickly what mattered if you wanted to get paid the big bucks.

  “Let’s not forget,” she continued. “The fact that the husband cheated on her. Why he’s even fighting this is beyond me. She has a right to alimony after putting in twenty years for that asshole.”

  I chuckled.

  She had me there. The cheating was the one thing I couldn’t think of a way to get around. I knew walking into the courtroom that I would probably lose because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. I had approximately however long it took for the elevator to get back up and working to figure that part out.

  “So you’ve got this one in the bag then. Should I congratulate you now or afterward?”

  And then she said the one thing I knew would make this case open and shut for me.

  “As long as no one mentions the affair with the brother-in-law, I’d say you can congratulate me now.” She laughed.

  Bless her loose lips. Bless them in more ways than one.

  I laughed, pretending to be casual about the entire conversation.

  “Payback’s a bitch,” I said, but I wasn’t talking entirely about Meela’s client.

  As if I was given just enough time in the dark with Meela, an emergency light clicked on, illuminating the space around us. It wasn’t bright in our little square space, but it was light enough that I could see the brilliance of her eyes and the thickness of her lush lips.

  “Light,” she said, and her body vibrated with relief. “That’s got to be a good sign, right?”