Page 51 of Ruled By Rivalry

I wanted to let my hands disappear in his hair, feel his lips on mine without any guilt, and experience his fingers tracing lines down my bare skin. Just to know what it felt like. To realize that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal.

He was just another man who probably didn’t floss and left his clothes scattered across his room. Almost certainly.

My head fell back in another exhale, a futile attempt to get my mind out of the gutter and then Elliot out of my mind. My foot tapped against the floor, willing this ride to go faster when it felt like we’d been in this elevator for hours. I didn’t want my gaze to search for his again.

But we realized at the same time. That the ride was taking way longer than it should’ve. Our heads shot up in sync, and both of our eyes were a little wider. Okay, fine, mine were about to pop out of their sockets.

“No,” I warned, like he could do anything about it.

We weren’t moving. The button for the second floor wasn’t glowing a soft orange anymore, and then, as if on cue, the lights flickered and went off.

I guess the darkness had one benefit: I couldn’t see him.

“Okay,” Elliot conceded from somewhere. I was too busy hammering against the doors to locate his voice. “Maybe we should’ve taken the stairs.”

“This isn’t funny.” I could hear the grin in his voice. “I need to finish that dress and apologize to Camila. Plus, we’ve got a meeting in ten. I don’t have time to be stuck in this thing—”

“But you are.”

“—with you,” I added for good measure.

“Okay, ouch.” But the amusement in his tone hadn’t wavered, and it was starting to piss me off. Technically, nothing had happened between us. But it was a lot of nothing, and he couldn’t just act like everything was normal.

I whirled around to point at him. Or, at least, in the direction I assumed he’d be in. “Don’t even start. You’re the reason we’re in this situation in the first place.”

With his looks and flirting and desire to kiss me, apparently. If he hadn’t looked at me that way, if I hadn’t felt his breath on my lips and his touch on my cheek, the only problem right now would be the stuck elevator.

Now him, inside of it, was another one.

“Oh!” He laughed. “This is my fault, is it?”

“Yes.” I’d just listed every single reason for it in my head, and they were all logical. “Of course it is.”

“Of course it is,” he repeated teasingly. The emergency lights flickered on in sync with his next words, casting a low, red glow. He pushed off the wall, stepped into the middle of the elevator, and stood directly over the Ashwood logo. His arms, of course, crossed. “And what exactly makes this my fault, Maeve? Did I tell you not to take the stairs? Did I force you into the elevator? Did I cut the power?”

No, but yes.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” I said.

“And what would that be?” He took another step toward me. “Because I’m not sure I do.”

“You’re doing it right now.” My back hit the elevator wall, and the tiny step did nothing to ease whatever hung in the air between us. Possibilities. Want. Need. Elliot followed, and I wasn’t sure if he meant to do it.

“Huh.” He huffed innocently. “Am I?”

As if he hadn’t placed his hand on the closed doors, right beside my head. With the other, he started playing with my ponytail.

“I’m serious, Elliot. You need to stop.” But my words were barely above a whisper, no conviction at all in what should’ve been pure willpower and certainty. Maybe because a part of me didn’t want him to stop. Maybe because that same part of me almost started screaming at him to do it. Just once.

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like that!” I squeezed my eyes shut to escape that shade of blue still recognizable in the red sheen of the emergency lights. “Touching me like that.” Innocently, teasingly, and in a way that somehow just made me want him that much more.

He dropped his hand, but brought no distance between us.

“Maeve,” he muttered, and the sound was barely a wisp against my lips. “I can’t help my reaction when I look at you.”

“Stop saying things like that too.”