Page 35 of Elevator Pitch

Ross chuckles softly, setting his large, warm hands on my upper arms and rubbing up and down my suddenly goose bumped skin. “I think we’ll be okay.”

While he slept well, I feel like I’ve hardly slept and I’m out of sorts. So, I don’t understand how he’s so calm. Then again, this arrangement is his plan.

He bends at the knees, lowering his bulky body a bit to look me more directly in the eyes. “Let’s just see what happens. If we did it wrong, we’ll fix it.”

My head lifts higher, body stiffening. “Are you saying you want to sleep with me again?”

He laughs a little deeper, louder, while shaking his head. “I don’t want to be presumptuous—”

“I think we’re beyond that.”

“But if this works, I’ll definitely want a repeat.”

We stare at one another, the seconds ticking by slowly. The warmth of his touch seeps into my skin. A spicy cologne scent lingers on him. His nearness makes my legs wobble once more, before his brows pinch, and he removes his hands, instantly breaking a new kind of tension between us.

Suddenly, a pensive look fills his rested eyes. “Do you think I’m taking advantage of you?”

“No.” I swallow. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because you said we’re beyond presumptuous, and I don’t want there to be any assumptions. I don’t want to come across like I’m monopolizing you or this situation. I don’t want to hurt you somehow. I want you to feel comfortable. Safe.”

Just mentioning his concerns settles my anxiety. He’s considerate of my comfort and worried about my emotions, and that right there says more about Ross Davis than Cameron. I don’t like to think ill of the dead, but a decade later, I still have some serious mental scars from what he put me through.

And the truth is, I do feel safe with Ross Davis. Safer than I probably should.

I nod to calm his concerns, forgoing my own. I don’t want him hurt either. I don’t want him upset or disappointed when he discovers this little experiment of his does not help his team.

Instead, I say, “You should probably get going.”

He nods once, but we both remain still, watching one another, eyes trying to read the other. Finally, he clears his throat. “I’ll call you later.”

The comment feels like a dismissal of sorts and as much as my chest pricks, I muster encouragement for him instead.

When he turns, I slap his ass, like they do in sports. The crack is hard and loud, resonating through the room. My palm stings from the firmness of his fine backside.

Ross spins, staring at me in shock. I’m a little startled myself.

Then he lets out a deep laugh, one that comes from his belly and fills the room, while he shakes his head. His laughter brings on my own, forcing a snortle out.

“There’s my sound,” he states, his voice quieting while still full of chuckles.

“Go get ’em, Coach,” I say cheerfully, while struggling to quell my own anxious giggles. “Bring home a win.”

+ + +

I hold my breath until the soft click of my front door echoes back to me in the bedroom, then I dissolve into hysterical laughter.

Oh. My. God. I just slapped Ross Davis’s ass.

I fall face first into the bed, getting a whiff of his distinct cologne mingled with the laundry detergent scent of the sheets.

With Ross gone, the urge to write should overwhelm me but that doesn’t happen. Within an hour, I’m stymied again, staring at the blank page, wondering where my characters should go next. Which collides with my thoughts retracing every step of last night with Ross.

I was relieved when he broke the tension by taking my hand. I don’t know what it is about him massaging my fingers, but the delicate touch from his thick fingers sends shivers through me. Good shivers. Shivers I probably shouldn’t be thinking about.

An hour passes as I mindlessly scroll social media, stalling instead of daydreaming, before I decide I need physical activity.

With a heavy sigh, I accept defeat for inspiration and head outside into the fresh, brisk morning air. Whoever says Scottsdale is constantly hot hasn’t been here mid-March where the weather fluctuates from forty to eighty in a day. The desert air is dry making the temperature feel cooler at times than the humidity-filled air of the Midwest under similar temperatures.