Page 10 of My CEO Neighbor (Neighborhood Hotties #5)

"I need to get out of here." Ted struggled to his feet, immediately bumping his head on the low ceiling. "I need—"

"Ted." Monica's hands found his face in the darkness, cool palms framing his jaw. "Breathe with me. In for four, hold for four, out for four."

"I can't—"

"Yes, you can. We practiced this. In through your nose."

Ted tried to follow her instructions, but his lungs felt like they were filled with concrete. His heart was beating so hard he could hear it echoing in his ears.

"I'm going to have a heart attack."

"You're not going to have a heart attack. Your body is just responding to stress. This will pass." Monica's thumbs stroked across his cheekbones. "Breathe with me. Feel my breath."

Monica leaned closer, close enough that Ted could feel the warm exhalation against his lips as she demonstrated the rhythm she wanted him to follow. In for four, hold for four, out for four.

Gradually, incrementally, Ted's breathing began to match hers. His heart rate slowed from frantic to merely rapid. The black spots receded, and the crushing weight on his chest lightened to mere tightness.

"Better?" Monica asked, her hands still cupping his face.

"Better," Ted managed, his voice hoarse.

"Good. Keep breathing."

Ted became aware that they were sitting very close together, Monica's knees pressed against his thighs, her face inches from his own. Her hands were soft against his skin, and she smelled like lavender, warm and feminine.

"Monica."

"What?"

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me."

"Yes, I do." Ted's hands found her wrists, his thumbs tracing over her pulse points. "I haven't had one of those in years."

"A panic attack?"

"Feeling like I couldn't control what was happening to me."

Monica was quiet for a moment. "How do you feel now?"

Ted took inventory: his breathing was steady, his heart rate was approaching normal, and the crushing anxiety had receded to manageable levels.

But more than that, sitting in the darkness with Monica's hands on his face and her body warm against his, he felt something he couldn't immediately identify.

"Calm," he said, surprised by the truth of it.

"Good."

"And..." Ted paused, trying to find words for the unfamiliar sensation. "Present. Like I'm actually here instead of thinking about seventeen other places I should be."

"That's meditation."

"That was a panic attack."

"Same difference, sometimes."

Ted laughed, a shaky sound that held more relief than humor. "You have a very unconventional teaching style."

"I work with what I'm given."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Monica's hands still framing Ted's face, his fingers still circling her wrists. Ted became aware of the warmth radiating from her body, the soft sound of her breathing, the way her hair had fallen forward to brush against his forehead.

"I want to kiss you." The admission escaped before Ted could stop it. It was completely inappropriate given their circumstances. But sitting in the darkness with Monica's hands on his skin and the taste of vulnerability still fresh in his mouth, appropriate felt less important than truthful.

Monica went very still. "Ted..."

"I know it's a bad idea. I know we barely know each other, and we're trapped in an elevator, and tomorrow morning we'll go back to being neighbors who annoy each other. But I want to kiss you anyway."

Monica was quiet for a long moment, and Ted could feel the tension building between them like a held breath. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"If we do this—if I let you kiss me—what happens tomorrow?"

"I don't know."

"That's not a very CEO-like answer."

"I'm not feeling very CEO-like right now."

Ted felt Monica lean closer, her breath warm against his lips. "What are you feeling like?"

"Like a man who's spent three years forgetting how to be human, and you're reminding me."

Monica's sharp intake of breath made Ted's cock even harder. Her hands slid from his face to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

"Ted," she whispered.

"What?"

"Stop talking."

Monica closed the distance between them, her lips finding his in the darkness. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like she was giving him a chance to change his mind. But when Ted's hands slid into her hair and he kissed her back with three years of suppressed hunger, tentative became urgent.

Monica tasted like mint tea and like everything Ted had been too busy to want. Her mouth was warm and responsive under his, and when she made a soft sound against his lips, Ted groaned back.

This was what he'd been missing. This was what Gwynne had tried to tell him, what his body had been craving beneath the caffeine and adrenaline and relentless forward motion. Connection. Presence. The simple, complicated pleasure of being entirely focused on another person.

Ted deepened the kiss, his hands tangling in Monica's hair, and she responded by pressing closer, her body warm and soft against him. He could feel her heartbeat, rapid and strong, matching his own.

The elevator jolted.

They broke apart, both breathing hard, as the car shuddered and dropped several inches before catching again. Emergency lighting flickered back on, harsh and sudden after so much darkness.

Ted blinked in the sudden brightness, disoriented. Monica's lips were swollen from kissing, her hair mussed from his hands, and she was looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite read.

"The power's coming back," she said unnecessarily.

"Yeah."

They stared at each other in the yellow light, the intimacy of the past few hours suddenly feeling exposed and fragile.

Ted could see Monica's face clearly now.

The flush across her cheekbones, the way her pupils were still dilated, the slight tremor in her hands as she smoothed her hair enchanted him.

She was beautiful. More than beautiful, she was real in a way that made him ache for things he hadn’t known he wanted.