Page 51

Chapter thirty-three

Elevator exclusive–not available in stores

Chase

T he drive back is all sunshine and smugness. Zoe hums along to the radio, one leg tucked under her, the other stretched out with a stolen croissant still balanced in a napkin on her lap. Her lips are sticky with sugar, and I’m trying very hard not to crash the car.

“You’re staring,” she says without looking up.

“Just admiring the criminal in my passenger seat.”

She hums. “Charlie told me to take it.”

“She told you to take one. You took three.”

“Two and a half.”

I glance at her and raise a brow.

“Okay, fine,” she sighs, dramatically. “Three and a nibble.”

I laugh under my breath and reach over to steal a bite, but she jerks the croissant out of reach.

“I will fight you,” she warns.

“I helped you steal three from their kitchen like a carb-gremlin, and this is how you repay me?”

She doesn’t reply, just eats it. All of it. Then slowly licks her fingers clean, enjoying my pain.

“I’m calling the police,” I mutter.

“Do it. I’ll eat my way through the county.”

“You’d make crime look hot.”

She smirks. “I’d make the mugshot your lock screen.”

By the time we pull into the underground garage, she’s brushing flaky crumbs from her lap with zero remorse. She barely waits for me to park before she’s out of the car, tote slung over one shoulder, her dress swaying with every step.

We pass Nate at the front desk, who looks up from his phone and nods.

“Hey, you two. Good brunch?”

“Delicious.” Zoe smiles, breezing past.

I flash a quick smile, following her to the elevator. The doors close behind us, and I hit the button for our floor.

Zoe leans against the mirrored panel with a sigh, adjusting the strap of her tote. Her dress pulls slightly at the hip, drawing my gaze like a fucking magnet.

“You’re looking again.”

“I’m trapped in a reflective box with my girlfriend in a sundress and no shame. What do you expect?”

She opens her mouth, probably to toss something smart back at me—

Thunk.

The elevator lurches and the lights flicker, then everything stops. The hum of movement cuts out, and the silence swells instantly.

Zoe straightens. “Um.”

I hit the button panel. Nothing lights up, so I try the intercom.

“Denver Towers, what’s your emergency?”

“Elevator’s stuck,” I say, adjusting my stance. “We just left the lobby. Lost power, maybe. There are two of us in here.”

“Copy that. We’ve had a minor outage. Maintenance is on it. Could be about an hour.”

An hour.

Zoe exhales slowly and rests her head back against the wall. “Of course.”

I reach for my phone and hit the flashlight. A narrow beam cuts through the darkness, and Zoe flinches, shielding her eyes.

“Warn a girl, damn.”

I lower it and sweep the light around. It beams off the mirrored elevator walls and her silhouette. I check my Wi-Fi.

“Reception’s gone,” I mutter. “Figures.”

“Well.” She moves toward the corner and lowers herself to the floor. “May as well get comfortable.”

I move and sit beside her, shoulder to shoulder. Her skin is warm from the sunlight we left behind, her knee brushing against mine. My finger flexes out, stroking the skin of her thigh gently.

“Sad I already ate all the croissants,” she sighs.

“Regret tastes better when it’s stolen.”

She snorts, and the silence hangs again, heavier this time.

Her phone flashlight suddenly flickers across the floor and lands on my hand. I watch as she follows it with her own, dragging her fingers lightly down my wrist, then my palm, then her thigh.

I blink, a gentle smirk stretching. “You’re dangerous.”

“And you’re bored.”

I slide my hand over hers, then lower it to her bare skin. I trace the inside of her thigh slowly, just barely enough pressure to tease.

“I still can’t believe they all knew,” she says, voice quiet in the dark. “That they knew we were faking but thought we’d actually get together the whole time.”

“Sweetheart, you’re insane if you think I was ever faking it,” I mutter.

She hums. “I know, but… apparently they were all in on the joke while we were too busy trying not to combust.”

My fingers keep moving slowly across her skin. “You think they were making bets?”

“Oh, definitely. Charlie would’ve had a spreadsheet.”

“I wanna see it.”

“Only because you wanna win.”

I laugh under my breath and say softly, “I won no matter what.”

Her thigh shifts under my touch in response, and she’s warm there, too. Soft and tense all at once.

Her voice dips playfully. “You touching me like this is not how we die.”

“Baby,” I murmur, dragging my mouth along the shell of her ear, “if we’re going out in an elevator shaft, I’m going out buried inside you.”

She covers her mouth to keep from laughing, and I feel her shoulders shake against mine.

“You’re feral.”

“And you’re trapped.” I slide my hand up the inside of her thigh, slow and deliberate. “And I’ve got fifty-five minutes left to ruin you.”

She tilts her chin toward me, phone screen casting just enough glow for me to catch the flush on her cheeks.

“Chase…”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“There better not be cameras in here.”

I slide my hand up her thigh, deliberately slow, brushing the lace of her panties with my knuckles. She shivers just a little.

“They’re out,” I murmur. “Power cut like this? Half the systems go offline.”

“Half?” she echoes, skeptical.

I lean in, mouth skimming her jaw. “You want a full technical report?”

“I wanna not be on PornHub next week.”

I chuckle, brushing her hair off her neck. “Then you better be quiet, sweetheart.”

She snorts softly. “That’s not how this works.”

“Then take the risk,” I whisper, sucking her pulse point. “Or tell me to stop.”

She doesn’t say a word, just exhales and lets her thighs drop open beneath my touch.

Her breath catches when I drag my fingers slowly up the front of her panties, just the barest pressure, enough to make her hips twitch but not enough to satisfy.

She’s already wet, and I haven’t even touched her properly.

“You always this wet after French toast and fake weddings?” I murmur, voice dark.

She swallows. “I hate you.”

I huff a laugh. “No, baby, you don’t.”

“How are you so sure?”

“You wore my hoodie over this dress and sat on my lap for two hours with no fucking shame.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Oh, I was. Just silently, through gritted teeth and a hard-on.”

She grins. “Poor Dolce Waltonato.”

I slip my hand under the fabric in reply, fingers sliding beneath the lace, finding her slick and ready. Her breath stutters, and I pull back enough to see her eyes flash toward the corner of the ceiling again.

“You sure?” she whispers.

I don’t answer. Instead, I guide her hand to my cock, already hard through my sweats, and let her feel the truth of it.

“That’s not very responsible,” she breathes.

“ I’m not very responsible,” I murmur back. “I’m fucking obsessed with you.”

To make my point, I drag my fingers through her again, gathering slick and circling her clit just enough to make her whimper. I slide one finger in, then two, working them in a slow rhythm. Her breath is hot on my jaw, her thighs twitching.

She presses her face to my shoulder, muffling a sound.

“You gonna be quiet for me, baby?”

Her fingers curl into my shirt, and she nods.

“You like that?” I ask, curling my fingers again. “Like being touched in the dark with your panties still on?”

I pull my hand free, bringing my fingers to her lips.

“Taste.”

She takes them into her mouth without hesitation, tongue flicking over the tips, eyes fluttering shut.

“Fuck,” I mutter, kissing her hard.

Then I’m shifting, kneeling in front of her, dragging her panties down her thighs slowly. She helps me, lifting her hips, and I bunch them into my pocket to keep them safe.

She’s breathing hard now, lips parted, flushed in the faint light. I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her with me, pressing her back against the mirrored wall with a soft thud.

“I’ll go slow,” I whisper, lifting her thighs to wrap around me. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna fuck you stupid.”

Her nails dig into my shoulders.

“I dare you,” she breathes.

I quickly unzip myself with one hand, keeping her steady against the wall with the other. She lifts herself up, then lowers back down as I push in slowly, her body stretching around me with a gasp that goes straight to my spine.

She’s soaked, tight, and warm, and her hands fly to my hair, mouth dropping open against mine.

“Fuck, Zo…”

Her head tips back against the mirrored wall, and I watch her in the low glow. The way her mouth parts, the way her lashes flutter. The way her whole body is trying to stay quiet, trying to behave, just for me.

“You look so good like this,” I rasp. “You always do. Fucking perfect, you know that?”

“Keep talking,” she whispers, voice strained.

“Yeah?” I thrust into her harder, hand back between her legs, fingers circling her clit while I fuck her into the wall.

“You want me to tell you how you feel? How tight you are around me, how wet you are for me? Want me to tell you how I’m gonna come so deep you’re still gonna feel me at brunch next weekend? ”

She lets out a strangled moan, nails biting into my arms.

“You wanna come, sweetheart?” I whisper against her ear. “Gonna make a mess on my cock while I fuck you in this elevator?”

“You can’t talk to me like that, I’m trying to be quiet,” she pants, clenching around me.

I grin, because she fucking loves it, loves when I tell her every filthy thought it my head.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I breathe. “Such a good fucking girl.”

I pound her harder now, the wet sound of our bodies obscene in the dark. She tightens around me, and I feel her coming undone. It’s my absolute favorite thing in the world—something only I get, something sacred.

“Fuck, Chase, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah, you are. Gonna come so hard on me, taking every inch of my cock. Do it, baby, let me feel you.”

She shakes through it, clinging to me, moaning against my shoulder as she pulses around me, and I lose it. I grip her ass tighter, slam into her twice, then bury myself deep, groaning low and rough into her throat as I come inside her, hips jerking with every wave of it.

Eventually, I pull out slowly, savoring the slick stretch and the way she shudders as I slip free. My cum spills from her in a slow trickle, and fuck, the sight alone nearly undoes me again.

She exhales shakily; her dress is rumpled up around her waist as she slowly releases her legs. I drop to my knees, press a kiss to her thigh, then lower my mouth between her legs.

“Chase—” she starts, but I cut her off with my tongue.

Because I need to taste it, need to taste her—us.

I groan the second my tongue finds her wet and swollen, dripping with both of us. I lick slow and deep, drawing it out and licking into her like I’m starving. She moans, legs twitching, hand sliding into my hair.

“Fuck,” she whispers. “You’re actually insane.”

I grin against her pussy, then drag my tongue up, flicking gently over her clit. She jerks with a gasp, thighs closing around my head like she can’t help it. I keep going, tongue sweeping up everything we left behind.

When I finally pull back, I stand slowly, gaze locked on hers in the dim light. Her lips are parted, chest heaving as I lean in.

I kiss her to claim her, and when I open my mouth, I let her taste it. Her moan catches between us as she realizes what she’s tasting.

“Jesus,” she breathes, pulling back just a fraction. “You’re really out here swapping fluids like it’s some kinda love language.”

I grin, thumb brushing her lip as my eyes skate over her flushed face. “Guess I’m fluent.”

She laughs, breathless. “You’re sick.”

“You love it.”

A laugh, and then she pushes me back down to the floor and drops into my lap with a satisfied sigh, her voice light again.

“Is my underwear in your pocket?”

I lean my head back against the mirrored wall, a grin plastered on my face and my arms wrapped around her. “I’m keeping them. Elevator exclusive—not available in stores.”

She snorts. “You’re a menace.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, brushing a kiss to her temple. “But I’m yours.”