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I cup her breast, my thumb caressing the skin around her nipple, relishing in how pliant she is. How with each pass of my thumb, she arches into me. And just as my thumbnail scrapes the hard peak of her nipple, she pulls away abruptly. Her breath comes out in pants, and she stares at me with glazed, wide eyes that are the color of molten fire.
"Was that too much?" I ask, desperately sorry that I didn't go slower.
"No, did you hear that?" she says as she steps to the elevator's closed doors.
"Hear what?" And then I hear it. There is a clanking, a groaning of metal, and the sound of some sort of drill.
The rescue party is here. What fucking ridiculous timing.
"Hey! We're in here!" she shouts loudly at the door.
"I'm pretty sure they know someone is in here because they are attempting to pry the doors open."
She looks over her shoulder just long enough to give me a withering glare.
But she doesn’t yell out again. We both stand there, staring at the doors as they slowly start to open. I feel like the moment is slipping from between my fingers. I grab her shoulders and spin her around to face me. Her eyes are darting back to watch the door. “Harry, the doors are almo--” she protests but I cut her off.
"Can I see you tomorrow?" I ask.
Her eyes widen and she stares at me, doubt pouring from every pore of her being.
"I don't know. We’ve been rescued.” She looks around the elevator before she looks back at me, “Doesn’t it feel a little like we were saved by the bell. I mean, maybe the universe just saved us from making a mistake," she stammers.
"Listen, all this fate and universe shit is getting annoying. Either you want to see me again or you don't. Own it," I bite back, unable to hide my frustration.
Her shoulders sag, and then the doors open wide enough for a hand to reach inside the elevator. My limited French tells me that they are asking us to give them a few more minutes and that we are stuck between the 4th and 5th floors of the building.
"I do, but I'm not good at being impulsive. I really wasn't prepared for any of this. Give me a minute," she begs making me feel guilty for pushing her.
"When did you say you were heading back to Accra?" I ask her.
"We have five more days,” she responds, her voice less steady than I've heard it sound since we started talking.
"Well, then sleep on it and meet me for breakfast tomorrow. I am sure that you'll be thinking clearly in the morning and realize that we didn't meet and have this evening for no reason."
She considers me, her head tipped to the side, her eyes contemplative.
"Okay, that sounds fair. But you have to promise to live with whatever my decision is. No pushing me, and no cold feet on your part," she finally responds.
"Fine, now let's get the fuck out of this death trap. And next time, let's take the stairs. You clearly can't be trusted in elevators."
She punches me in the arm and then turns around to pay attention to our rescuers. Soon, they are hauling her out of the elevator and I get a prime view of her thighs and ass as she is lifted out.
I refuse to be lifted out and haul myself up. By the time I'm standing in the hallway, she's reading text messages on her phone. I walk over to stand next to her, and she puts her phone away as I approach. She looks up at me, an easy smile on her lips.
"Okay, macho man. We survived that ordeal. I'm exhausted, and it's late. Bambi's losing her mind worried about me. I'll meet you for breakfast tomorrow, okay?"
I nod as I watch her. Her lips look bee stung, and I feel a rush of satisfaction knowing that it was my kiss that caused it. "You sure you don't want to go upstairs with me?" I ask her. She groans and rolls her eyes.
"Yes, I'm sure. Tomorrow," she says as she starts to walk backwards down the hall.
She winks at me, gives me a little wave, and then she's leaving. I watch as she turns the corner and then turn to head to the stairs. I have to stop myself from calling out to her. I want her to stay. I don't know what happened tonight, but I liked it. As I climb the stairs to the top floor, I think about what she told me. Her father, her family, the disconnect that's happened and how they all seem to be knitting back together without her. I think about what I told her. I don't think even I knew how deep my resentment toward Zara ran. I don't know if I really hate her, but it felt good to get it out. I know I didn't treat that relationship properly, but now I know it was because it was forced on us and not one I chose. I'd accepted that because I was the heir to my father's title. I had to give up the things I wanted to be worthy of it. But my father hadn't. He'd married my mother despite the fact that her family wasn't English. Granted, she's a French blue blood, but I know it still caused a stir.
I wonder how they would react to her. She's American. She's biracial. I think, anyway. I don't know anyone like that in our circles. Inbreeding is more the order of the day than anything.
I give myself a mental kick. None of that matters. I want to fuck her, I want to spend time with her. But the likelihood that I'll see her again once we leave here is slim to none, especially given how reluctant she is even to kiss. I frown at this and unlock the door to my suite, not liking the way that thought settles. Leave it to me to meet a woman I'm interested in halfway around the world and have her live on a different continent.
