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A man held the door and another sardine got on. Hunter tried to make room but there was nowhere else to go. The elevator doors shut, and the car began to rise. But after only making it up two more floors, it jolted to a stop halfway to the third. The car made a dreaded groaning sound—unhappy metal.
Oh, shit.
One of the ladies up front jabbed the button for her floor but nothing happened. She jabbed again. The air in the small space suddenly felt scarce, and a murmur of unrest went through the group.
“I think we’re between floors. This happened earlier,” one of the men said. “Give it a second and it will probably fix itself.”
“No, press the alarm,” someone else demanded. “We’ve probably exceeded the weight limit. The car can’t move.”
“Is it gonna fall?” asked a lady from the back, fear in her voice.
In the corner of his eye, Hunter caught Devon close his eyes and take a wavering breath. Uh-oh. He knew the guy had a touch of claustrophobia. During rush week, they’d had an activity where the pledges were locked in a room, and Devon had panicked.
“You all right?” Hunter asked under his breath.
“Could be better.” His Adam’s apple bobbed.
Damn, the kid was going to freak out.
People were arguing.
“Press the alarm. They’ll fix it faster if they know it’s stopped,” Hunter said louder than the others, his tone brooking no argument, and then he forced his way behind Devon. He wrapped his arm around Dev’s waist and gathered him against his chest. Devon stiffened in surprise but didn’t pull away. Hunter leaned down next to his ear, keeping his voice just loud enough for Dev. “You’re fine. Breathe it out. There’s enough room in here for all of us, and they’ll get this fixed. And when those doors open, I’ll get you off in a hurry, even if I have to knock everybody else down to get there.”
A few glances cut their way, but Hunter ignored them. Right now, he didn’t give a shit what any of these strangers thought.
Devon turned his head and whispered, “Stop promising to get me off in a hurry. I’d rather you take your time.”
Hunter snorted and squeezed Devon tighter against him. The alarm was pulled and someone from maintenance came over the loudspeaker and told them they were getting things fixed. It took a few minutes, but Hunter didn’t let go of Dev. At first he told himself that he was doing it simply because it was keeping Devon calm. But as time passed, his body grew all too aware of what was pressed against what, and then he was just holding on because he liked having Devon against him.
The elevator ground to a start again, earning relieved noises from the group, and people streamed off on the next few floors. He expected Devon to hop off on the first stop, but he didn’t move a muscle. And by the time they reached their floor, no one was left on the elevator, but Hunter still held Devon close.
“You can let me go now,” Devon said softly.
“I don’t think I want to.”
“I don’t think I want you to either.”
Chapter 8
College
This was such a bad idea. Such a fucking disastrous idea. Wasn’t going to stop him, though. Devon grabbed Hunter by the front of his shirt and yanked him into the hotel room. The door clicked shut behind them, and he pushed Hunter against the wall.
He’d given the guy the out. He’d seen the wheels grinding in the hotel lobby. Post-blow-job brain had been clearing, and reality was settling over his friend. Devon had seen the shift. Had accepted that Hunter was about to freak out over their whole lapse in judgment. But then in the elevator, Hunter had surprised the hell out of him—grabbing him and talking him down from a panic attack—in front of all those people, no less. Despite the trapped quarters, one of Devon’s biggest fears, he suddenly hadn’t been able to think of much else besides wanting to tear Hunter’s clothes off right there. And now the adrenaline from their time in the elevator was pushing hard at any remaining self-restraint he had.
Devon pressed his lips to the cord of Hunter’s neck and nipped him. “Tell me to stop, Hunt. Tell me to slow down. Tell me to leave you the hell alone.”
Hunter tilted his head back, giving Devon better access. “Don’t wanna.”
God, he was so fucking beautiful. All muscles and mussed hair and hungry eyes. Devon had imagined touching him like this for so long that he didn’t know where to start. He wanted to gorge on the guy. But he had to be careful. This wasn’t a normal hookup. This was Hunter. Hunter. God, such a bad idea. “Lose the shirt.”
Hunter reached back without hesitation and pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing that ridiculous body of his. Baseball had been good to this man. Devon’s fingers curled into his palms, the need to explore a burning thing inside him.
“Tell me what you want tonight,” he said before he allowed himself to touch again.
“What?”
“How far? I need to know.”
