Chapter 10

Abby:

I knew the second Paul got on the elevator with me that being so close to him was a bad idea. When the doors shut, trapping me in the tiny space with him, the only reason I didn’t try to peel them open with my bare hands was because I thought it would only be a minute or so before they opened again and freed me on the top floor of the parking garage. But Paul had gotten the idea to trap me in here with him. And now we are well and truly trapped.

“Fuck.” Paul mutters and pulls out his phone, hopefully to call someone for help. He dials a number, presses the phone to his ear, and waits. And waits. After a few moments he hangs up with a sigh. “John’s not answering.”

Dread is a growing storm in the pit of my stomach. Being stuck in an elevator is inconvenient. Being stuck in an elevator with my ex who I made a completely fool of myself over just a few days ago is a nightmare. Not to mention the fact that he’s looking damn sexy. There’s nothing special about his dark jeans, a dark blue V-neck sweater, and brown chucks. It’s the way his lean, tone physic fills them out that makes my mouth water.

I shake my head against the unwanted lustful thoughts and avert my gaze to the floor before he can read the desire in my gaze. I’m still furious with him, but the heat of attraction is spreading, seeping deeper into my veins with every heartbeat.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Paul dial again. This time he puts it on speaker, and the ringing fills the quiet carriage, echoing off the metal walls.

On the second ring, a sweet, perky voice answers, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Embry,” Paul says quickly, and I don’t miss the way he shoots a glance in my direction. Does he think I’m going to be jealous that he called her? Hell, if it gets me out of this elevator any faster, he could be booty calling her for all I care.

Okay, that’s not true. The idea of him booty calling any other girl doesn’t exactly fill me with warm fuzzies. But we’re not together, I remind myself. It’s not like I’ve been celibate the last three years.

“Hey, can you go to Security and get John?” Paul asks, holding the phone out in front of him like he’s worried it might come to life and bite him.

“Is everything okay?” Embry asks.

“Abby and I are stuck in the elevator in the parking garage.”

Embry chuckles. “That sounds cozy.”

I roll my eyes. Yeah, as cozy as walking into a spider web.

Paul brings his free hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “So, you’ll go get him for us?” I recognize the tight tone of his voice. He’s trying to keep his patience.

“Okay, sure. Let me get someone to cover the desk for me, and I’ll call you back when I find him.”

“Thanks, Embry.” Paul hangs up and slides his phone into his pocket. Then he leans his head back against the wall and bangs it softly once, twice.

We stay like that for what feels like hours, neither one of us speaking. We’re not even looking at one another. Part of me wants to confront him about the fact that he trapped me in here so he could talk to me, but now that we’re actually stuck, he hasn’t said a word. But I know if I say anything, he’ll take that as his cue to actually talk about what happened the other night. And that’s the last thing I want.

I thought I was over him, but judging from how quickly I fell into bed with him, my body, at least, has not moved on. In fact, every time I look at him, I was confronted with memories of touching him, kissing him… coming in his arms. “Shit.”

Paul straightens and brings his attention to me. “Are you claustrophobic?”

I would absolutely lie and say yes if I thought it would get me out of this elevator any faster. “No.” I shake my head.

Instead of going back to his corner, Paul takes a step forward, then another. Until he’s standing directly in front of me. Against my better judgement, I let my gaze slide up his legs, over the hard planes of his chest, his neck, his face. When we make eye contact, I feel the connection deep in my soul. How does he still have the ability to affect me this way?

“About the other night…”

I roll my eyes and shift away from him. I’d know the words were coming, but they still hit like a punch to the gut. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Abby please. I need to tell you how sorry I am. I don’t know why I did that to you.” He sounds sincere, and his tone borders on pleading.

“Because you aren’t into me,” I supply.

Paul shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

I look up at him in surprise and a jolt of excitement zings through me. “You are into me?” I hope I don’t sound as vulnerable as I feel right now. Who knew whether or not Paul feels something for me would be the thing leaving me feeling exposed and defenseless? It certainly wasn’t something I ever expected to feel again.

He takes a step forward and slowly, gently places his hands on my upper arms, calling my full attention to him, to the narrow space between our two bodies. “Abby, being into you has never been a question. I’ve always wanted you. Even when I hated you.”

Hated. He hated me. Disappointment becomes an unbearable weight, threatening to crush me. “You sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself,” I mutter.

Paul curses and lowers his hands to his sides. “That’s not what I meant. I’m doing this all wrong.”

“I’ll say.”

“What I’m trying to say…” he looks off into space like he’s trying to find the right words, “I’m scared.”

That gets my attention. “Of?”

He sucks in a deep breath and holds it so long I worry he might start to turn blue. Then he blows the air out from between pursed lips and takes a solid step back, putting the full distance of the elevator between us in one move. “My feelings for you.”

My heart leaps in my chest. I’m pretty sure I know what he’s trying to say, but I need him to say it, need to hear the words. “How do you feel about me?” Fuck. I sound like a lovesick kid, hanging on his every word. I hate myself a little for need him to announce his feelings for me, but I can’t escape it.

“I want you,” He sounds tortured, maybe even a little angry.

Understanding dawns. He wants to have sex with me and he’s mad at himself for it. Well, newsflash, buddy, I’m mad at myself for wanting to get into your pants, too. “So… what... you wanna fuck?”

Paul shakes his head, looking even more miserable than before, if that’s even possible. “No. I mean, yeah, that too, but no. I want to be with you, Abs.”

Abs. He hasn’t called me that since we were together. I’d almost forgotten how much I loved hearing my nickname on his lips. I close my eyes against the memory of him whispering it against my ear while driving into me. “Paul.”

When I open my eyes, he’s standing directly in front of me again, so close, I could lean forward and be wrapped in his arms. It would be so easy to fall back into him, into this. I meet his gaze, and his expression is earnest, his eyes shiny with what might be tears. Is he on the verge of crying right now?

Is it possible to be completely conscious and have an out-of-body experience? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what happens next. Almost in slow motion, I lean forward, tilt my head up, and press my lips to his. One heartbeat passes, then two. On the third beat, he lurches into motion, wrapping his arms around me, and moving us so that my back is pressed against the wall, his body pressed tight to mine. His lips move against my hungrily, insistent, begging entry.

I open my mouth for him, and his tongue slips inside, mimicking the most carnal of actions. He rocks against me, and I feel his arousal against my stomach. Suddenly, I can’t get close enough to him. I lift my leg, and he responds by gripping my thigh, holding it tight. With a little hop, I raise my other leg so that he’s holding me, and I cross my feet behind him, using the leverage to press myself against his erection.

Paul breaks the kiss to trace a path down my neck to my collar bone, and I tilt my head back to give him access. His hips move against mine, the movement a promise of pleasure to come, and I gasp as he hits just the right spot with the motion.

He pulls back from kissing my neck to look down into my eyes, a thousand questions in his expression. I answer every one of them with a single nod. He wastes no time diving back into kissing me passionately, and damn if the way he’s moving against me isn’t enough to have me on the edge of oblivion already.

Brrrrriiiiing. A phone interrupts us with its rude trilling. Paul freezes, his lips still pressed against mine. Without lowering me onto my own feet, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone just as it rings again. He presses the talk button and places the phone to his ear. “Hello?” His voice is husky and laden with arousal, and I tamp down a twinge of amusement at him having to talk on the phone with his sexed-up voice. “Em, hey.”