Page 34

She mewled.

The sound hit me at the base of my spine.

Nell was warm and soft and already so wet. The first slide of my fingers pulled a low purr from my own throat. She bit her lower lip. Her hands came up to grip my shoulders. Her hips tilted forward to offer me more. I gave her more, sliding a second finger in alongside the first, feeling the heat of her close around them.

"Oh, God," she breathed.

I crooked my fingers. Her nails bit into my shoulders. She repeated her prayer.

I pumped my fingers slowly, then faster as she found the rhythm. Her hips moved in small circles. Her head was still back against the wall, her throat exposed and her eyes closed. I drank in the face I was going to see behind my eyelids for the rest of my days and nights.

"Please." It was barely a word, more a shape her mouth made.

With my middle and index fingers crooked inside her, I pressed my thumb to her clit. She came apart.

Her whole body arched. Her spine left the wall. Her hands pulled at my shoulders for balance. A low, broken sound climbed out of her that she was clearly not in control of and clearly did not care.

I held her through it. My fingers worked her through every tremor. My other arm around her waist, took her weight as her legs made their assessment of the situation and decided reliability was optional. When the last shudder worked its way through her, she went soft against my chest.

I held her. My face was in her hair. Her breath was slow against my throat. Her hands released my shoulders and were now just resting there; palms flat, with the peaceful weight of a woman who had arrived at a precipice and taken the leap. I felt immensely proud that she'd let me push her and trusted that I would catch her.

It felt right. I could stay here forever. I could stay in this elevator in this building between these floors with this woman's weight against my chest and her scent in my lungs and never hit the ground button.

From below us, someone tried the elevator door.

The sound of it — the handle, the mechanism, the impatient human noise of a person waiting for a box to come down — was the sound of my life arriving back online. My family. My pack. The Lobo wedding on the calendar.

I pressed my lips to the top of Nell's head once more. Then I straightened.

My hands moved with the efficient care of a man who had caused this and was going to put it right — her underwear, her jeans, the button, the zip, her shirt tucked back in. Each piece returned to its correct position with the impersonal care of someone doing damage control.

She let me do it. Her eyes were on my face the whole time. I did not meet her gaze I knew what I would find there. I did not have anything to give it right now.

I hit the release button that would take us back down to Earth.

The elevator resumed.

The lobby arrived.

The doors opened.

Nell's detail was there, flanking the car. The men who never left her side waiting to take her home. I walked her out with my hand at her back — the automatic gesture, the courtesy — and opened the rear door of the car.

She stopped before getting in. She looked at me with those clear, direct eyes. "Are you coming home with me?"

"No, Ms. Odhiambo. Hopefully that got the need for sex out of your system and you'll get back to work."

Something in her face went very still and very quiet in a way that was worse than anger. That look told me I'd chosen the exact right insult.

"Understood, Mr. Blackwood. Thanks for the ride."

She got in the car.

I closed the door.

I watched the car pull away from the curb and merge into traffic. It disappeared around the corner with the red of the taillights shrinking to nothing.

I stood on the sidewalk.